LeBron James drove up to the private Miami marina where Kyrie Irving’s yacht was kept. He hadn’t brought much with him; just a small bag (his teammates called it a “man-purse”) containing sunglasses, sunscreen, wallet, and, of course, condoms. Kyrie’s yacht parties always necessitated condoms.
He parked his car and, after being easily waved through security, he walked along the docks until he got to the spot where Kyrie’s yacht was bobbing lightly in the water. Kyrie himself was standing on the deck of the boat, waiting for his guests to arrive. “Yo, man, glad you could make it,” he greeted.
“You know I’d never miss one of your yacht parties,” LeBron replied as he embarked. Then he looked around at the seemingly-empty boat. “Where everybody at? Am I that early?”
Kyrie shook his head. For some reason, he looked tentative. “No, they’re all in the cabin.”
“In the cabin?” LeBron repeated. “But white chicks love nothing more than sitting out in the sun to tan or whatever. And I know you ain’t gonna let anybody other than white chicks and your own teammates on this fine boat of yours.”
“That’s the thing,” Kyrie said. “After last year’s PR disaster, I decided to play it safe.”
LeBron laughed heartily. “So you let on some black chicks this time? Or just latinas? You know I’m cool with both, man.”
Kyrie didn’t share in his teammate’s mirth. “None of the above. I didn’t want to hurt anybody’s feelings again, so there’s no chicks at all this year.”
Thinking of all the condoms in his bag that were about to go unused, LeBron’s mood deflated slightly, but he was still excited to go on a yacht cruise with his teammates. “No dude, I totally get it. That’s the right move. There’ll be girls galore when we hit the clubs tonight.” He walked to the door of the cabin and pulled it open. When he saw what was inside, he stopped in his tracks.
“I was gonna tell you,” Kyrie said apologetically from behind him. “I invited a bunch of YouTube nerds instead. You know, good PR and stuff.”
LeBron shook his head in disappointment at the collection of pale young men in front of him and turned to leave. But when he looked out over the deck, he saw the dock quickly receding; the boat had already set sail.
Kyrie had put a banana boat behind the yacht, hoping to spur some activity at the dull party. LeBron now sat on it by himself, despite it being completely stationary, wishing that there was a chick – any chick, even a 4/10 – within ten miles of them. But there wasn’t. There were just a bunch of dweebs who refused to sit in the sunlight even when offered sunscreen, and who only wanted to talk about “monetization” and “sub counts”, and who had eaten all the potato chips on board but left behind the mini-bottles of Smirnoff Ice.
Suddenly, there was a splashing noise behind him. LeBron curiously looked behind, wondering if one of the pathetic losers had actually ventured outside of the cabin.
A skinny young man was presently trying to pull himself onto the banana boat. LeBron felt sympathy for him, and offered a hand to help. The young man accepted it eagerly and was soon sitting in the second seat of the craft. “Man, I can’t believe I’m sitting on a banana boat with LeBron James. I’m going to have to write a description about this.”
LeBron didn’t know what this last comment meant. “Nice to meet you too.”
“Sorry, I’m DownToBuck. I should have said that first,” the man said. LeBron didn’t know who “Down To Buck” was, but figured it must be a YouTube name or something. “I make NBA highlight videos.”
“That’s real cool,” LeBron responded sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “I bet you wish there were chicks at this party, too, huh?” This was meant to be an insult at the man’s odd appearance and perceived virginity, but it wasn’t taken that way.
“I’m done with chicks for the time being,” said the man in a serious tone. “Right now I’m more concerned with an upcoming business proposal.”
LeBron’s raised his eyebrows. “Is that so?”
“I’m about to make an offer you can’t refuse, Mr. James. A video which compiles and showcases all of your dunks from this season,” the man said.
“Sounds cool,” LeBron answered, and he was being honest this time. A video like that would be cool. “You do this for free or what?”
The man’s tone was as humorless as possible when he replied, “Two-hundred thousand dollars. Cash. Today. Or no deal.”
There was a period of silence as LeBron weighed his options. The quoted amount of money was nothing to him, but he didn’t know what the going rate was for YouTube highlight videos. It was possible he was getting ripped off, but in the end, he decided he didn’t care. “Sure. When we get back to shore.”
There was another splash as the man, “Down To Buck”, hopped off the banana boat. “Oh man, those losers up there are gonna be so jealous,” he said happily, before beginning his swim back to the yacht. “Thanks LeBron!”
LeBron just shook his head in confusion. YouTube highlights were serious business, apparently.