Post by J.H. "Goose" Traynor-Wagner on Aug 10, 2020 19:25:10 GMT -5
Our Heroes Of Basket-Ball, freshly arrived in the swamp-hot sick-s-hit peat bogs of the Holy Colony of La Florida of the Viceroyalty of New Spain, smelling of offal and Cheap Italian Liquorillos, muttering prayers to assorted Gods, Hindu, Moeslem, Black-Christian and even Irish, eyes Terra Cotta Red from days of Unremitting Doleful Tears as they sat Clenched to the Mast in Horror as the breakneck Transit on the Manifest Glorious, the Most Aerodynamic Schooner in the Navy, running full sheets windward Zihg-Zahged down the Hostile Coast of the American Atlantic Shoreline at speeds Up to 13 Knots Per Nautical Hour, then Ushered to a Man into the dreadful Arena of Fools and Brigands, constructed of the finest Eritrean ply-wood at great Cost by our nation's Tar and Spelt taxes, given fortuitously to the craven slime Waltimer Disney III. A palace of death and Basketball rises in the Summer Heat. But the Los Angeles Methodist-Lakers will find that Summer, o! is a season of Harvest for the fruits and soil-vegetables planted by their departed leader, the mysterious Greek gentleman known only as Kobe, of whose death news has reached the League Offices at the blinding speed of only seven months after his traditional Greek Burial (body placed into advanced mourning Machinery wherein his Corpse was spun by gears in increasingly rapid circles, powered by Coptic oxen, until his Organs Flew out of his Mouth and into the Salty Sea). For Years, Kobe toiled at his Garden of Basket-ball, planting Powerful Dunks, throwing away all Passes, and tilling without Mercy. Will his surviving Team-Mates honor his name, Harvest his Crops, and bring a Championship Bounty to the city they love? Or will they Betray him and succumb to the enticing Floridian offers of Latinas and Gun-Fighting?