Game #51: Denver Nuggets 108 – Chicago Bulls 81

“Zlatan, I presume?” DaRose asked the Swede, who had just recently stopped his laughter.

Zlatan glared at our two heroes, then barked, “What the fuck are you looking at?”

Unsurprisingly, Taj did not take to this too well. “Say, you turkey, tell us what this is all about.”

Zlatan repeated his now signature line.

With that, Taj started over to the table with determination in his stride. After a few steps, the unknown man from the table, hitherto with his back to the rest of the room, sprang from his seat with a pirouette. His identity was immediately revealed. There stood Agent Zero himself, Gilbert Arenas. “Not so fast, sucka!” declared Agent Zero. “Take another step and you shall feel the rancor of Agent Zero delivered upon your head.”

Taj threw out a, “Nuts,” and proceeded toward the table. With that, the familiar cackle of Zlatan started up as the Swede jumped over the table and Agent Zero. In mid jump, he shifted into a kung-fu style kick aimed right for Taj’s chest. Reacting quickly, Taj shuffled left, grabbed the incoming leg and spun Zlatan a full revolution before letting him go. Zlatan flew across the room, smashed into the far wall and shattered into hundreds of pieces. The pieces of Zlatan then lit on fire and burned.

Taj turned his attention back to Agent Zero. “Was that weak-ass Swede your rancor? Step aside, you has-been, and let me collect Mike Jimmy and Joakim.”

Agent Zero was not impressed. He cocked back his right fist and let it fly. Its destination was Taj’s face. It did not reach it, for Taj anticipated the move and answered likewise. Taj’s right fist flew at Agent Zero’s and they met somewhere in the middle. Upon impact, Agent Zero’s fist exploded. The villain crumpled to the floor in agony. Crickets flowed out of his forearm in lieu of blood. The little insects sang their song as they popped out. With a seemingly endless flow of them, their song grew in volume. Soon Agent Zero’s body was a deflated version of itself and the crickets stopped spewing forth.

The cricket’s chirping was deafening. Taj and DaRose covered their ears while they headed over to the two occupants of the table. DaRose went over to Mike Jimmy and Taj to Joakim. The two missing persons were unmoved by any of the recent activity. They sat there, dead eyed and staring at each other. Our two heroes yelled their names at them over the din of the crickets. They kept their eyes locked on each as their hands began to move in unison. The two pairs of hands reached out to a blue wooden box on the table and raised it up a foot. The box had a red zero painted on its lid. DaRose grabbed a blue key resting on the table and looked at Taj. Taj nodded for him to continue. With that, DaRose inserted the key into its home and turned it to a click.

At that moment, the crickets vanished and everyone in the room appeared to do likewise, with their clothes dropping to the floor. However, upon further scrutiny, one would have noticed something about the size of a basketball moving within the confines of each set of clothes. One by one popped out from underneath the clothing tiny baby versions of each of our characters. There was a baby Taj with his neatly shaved head. A frizzy-haired Joakim stood on his chair, unsure of how to proceed. Mike Jimmy and DaRose were there too. I usually do not care much for babies, but these four were awfully adorable, with their gurgling and cooing noises.

The lounge singer on the speakers smoothly sang, “Yeah, a denial… a denial.” I found that part odd, as I do not remember that song being so long.

Somewhere deep inside the ship, a used car salesman put the finishing touches on a clipper inside a bottle and corked it. It is time to start another one, he thought to himself.

THE END

About Judas Pato

Just another hard working member of the press, covering the Chicago Bulls and nonsense - often both, simultaneously.
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