Mario Hezonja adjusted his sunglasses as he emerged from his car. It occurred to him that it might have been better to plan this operation to occur during the nighttime, but it was too late to back out now. It also occurred to him that, if he expected to sneak into his target’s house undetected, that he shouldn’t park his car (with the license plate HEZONJA) right in front of said house, and then get out of the car wearing a “disguise” which consisted of black jeans, a black hoodie, sunglasses, and a black beanie.
Hoping he wasn’t arousing the suspicion of any neighbors, Mario quickly darted into the shadowy, grassy space in between two houses to consider his next steps. His outfit was making him uncomfortably warm in the 80-degree Orlando winter, and his overheated brain didn’t want to function properly. All he knew was that he somehow had to get in the house.
He was standing near a window, so he cautiously took a peek inside. When all he saw was an empty kitchen, he stepped in front of the window and pressed his face against the glass to get a better look. Dimly, he could make out the flickering of a television screen in the adjacent living room. Knowing that his target lived alone, that gave Mario some vital information.
But how to get inside? He walked around to the back of the house, where there was a deck and pool. A fresh pair of wet footprints led from the pool’s ladder to the house’s back door, so Mario followed the footprints and gently took hold of the door handle. To his surprise and delight, the door opened with a quiet click and swung open, offering him entrance to Scott Skiles’ house.
Mario paused here to take off his shoes (also black, like the rest of his outfit); his socked feet would allow him to proceed whisper-quiet through the house. His mission was aided by the fact that the TV’s volume was turned up quite high; from the sound of things, Scott liked his daytime court shows. Taking careful steps down the hallway, hardly daring to breathe, Mario bypassed the kitchen and dining area, which looked unused except for half-empty pizza boxes, to finally reach the living room.
Mario chanced a look around the wall and was relieved to see that he was positioned directly behind Scott, whose ample bald spot shimmered in the bright noontime sunlight flowing through the windows. The former Magic coach was still wearing his swimming trunks and held a can of Miller Lite loosely in his hand; a sudden snore indicated that he had fallen asleep in the recliner.
Not believing his luck, Mario walked in front of the sleeping, unaware Scott and readied his attack. He was not going to use conventional weapons; no, it would be much more satisfying to do things this way. Taking several steps back, he formed his hands into fists before charging directly at Scott’s chest, leading with his head like a defensive end making a tackle.
Scott’s eyes flew open as Mario’s shoulder crushed his sternum. “WHAAAA?” he yelled as his recliner tipped backwards, sending him sprawling to the floor with his former player on top of him.
“YOU HOLD ME DOWN MY ROOKIE YEAR! YOU RUIN MY CAREER!” Mario bellowed, his hands holding down his former coach. “BUT NOW…NOW I HOLD YOU DOWN!”
“Get off me, Mario, and we’ll talk about this!” Scott wailed, struggling under the grip of the larger man. “I said, get off m-” His words were halted in his mouth by a devastating punch connecting directly with his jaw. Dazed and moaning, he did not attempt to speak again.
Mario wanted badly to continue throwing punches, but the one had been enough to incapacitate his victim. Instead, he took out a sharpie from his pocket and began to write words across Scott’s flabby belly. When he was done, he stood back and admired his work, and when Scott weakly tried to prop himself up on his arms, Mario roughly forced him back down with a kick to the face. “PROPERTY OF MARIO HEZONJA, WHO SCORED 28 IN THE NBA” read the words on Scott’s body. After pouring the rest of the can of beer onto Scott’s face, causing Scott to choke and cough, Mario took a picture of the pathetic sight for later posting to his Instagram, then turned to leave the way he had entered.
“Now, I have finally been unchained,” Mario thought to himself as he helped himself to a slice of cold pizza. “And I have made sure that Skiles will regret his mistake…forever.”