“Hey Steph, you know, this doesn’t seem like a great idea.”
“Shut up Klay. I can’t remember who broke the NBA record for made threes this year, maybe you could remind me?”
“You did. That doesn’t change the fact that this is a bad idea, even by your standards. My hieroglyph-parsing skills are diminished since college, but the ones on the wall we just passed seemed to say, and I’m paraphrasing a bit here, that anyone who enters Djedefra’s burial chamber is doomed to madness.”
“Yeah, well, I saw those same hieroglyphs and I thought they said, “Klay Thompson is a huge pussywillow”.
The two explorers continued through the forbidden passages of Djedefra’s lost pyramid. The dusty walls, illuminated for the first time in millennia, contained, along with sinister hieroglyphics, pictographs depicting what seemed to be people suffering various forms of torture, both mental and physical.
“Are you sure you know how to get out of here? It’s like a maze in here. A pyramaze, if you will. And you just seem to be going randomly.”
“Klay, how many times do I have to tell you to shut up? I’m the leader here, and I know exactly what’s going on. We’re getting close, I can feel…”
A loud voice, emanating from a left hand passage, rang through Djedefra’s labyrinthine halls.
“Turn back, explorers. Djedefra does not wish to be disturbed. Turn back.”
Their lights went out. Stumbling, they retreated as fast as they could, but without illumination, they were quickly hopelessly lost.
“Well, this is it, I guess. We’re never getting out of here. Djedefra claims some more victims. I should never have listened to you, Steph, you moron.”
“You should have warned me if you thought this expedition was unsafe. Anyway, you wanna hear a story? Let me tell you about the time I hit 272 threes in a season…”
“Shut the hell up.”