Marcus Thornton 24 Points Full Highlights (11/13/2013)

“Marcus, do you ever feel like maybe your conditioning isn’t at the point where it should be?” coach Malone asked.

Marcus grabbed hold of a handful of nacho chips, dunked his fist fully into a container of cheese sauce, and crammed the entirety of his fist in his mouth. Chewing noisily, he managed a garbled, “No,” before going back for more.

His coach continued the questioning. “Where did you get that bucket of nacho cheese sauce?”

Finishing the last swallow of chips, Marcus responded, “I found it next to one of the concession stands. I work here, so technically, it’s my cheese.”

“So you didn’t get it from DeMarcus?”

Marcus looked at his coach with an eyebrow raised. “No. Why would DeMarcus have buckets of cheese sauce lying around?”

“Never mind. Marcus, I think it’s time we got you into a weight-loss program. Your muscle definition is flabby and your cheeks look like a squirrel’s.”

If coach Malone was expecting a reaction, he would have been disappointed, because his player didn’t provide much of one. “I don’t see any problem with my weight,” Marcus said simply, rummaging through his duffel bag. “Found ’em!” He exclaimed, holding up a large bag of cold, uncooked french fries. “The woman who runs the restaurant on the B level said they’re just as good raw.”

He happily stuffed multiple handfuls of fries into his mouth as his coach looked on sadly. “Marcus, all of us here in the organization want what’s best for you. And eating entire rotisserie chickens in the locker room at half time is not what’s best for you.”

“I offered to share, but nobody wanted any. It’s not my fault that I find food to be tastier than other people,” Marcus said, words garbled through mouthfuls of pulverized frozen potato. “You know what would be good with these fries? Cheese sauce!” Marcus tipped the large tub of nacho cheese sauce into his mouth, much of it missing its mark and ending up on the front of his shirt. He smiled widely, clearly savoring the new taste combination which he had just created. “Mmmmm. That’s good.”

Coach Malone stood up. “I think that concludes our meeting. I really hope you take my words to heart, Marcus.”

“Sure thing, Coach.” Marcus grabbed his bag and walked out of the office, leaving behind a mess of partially-chewed food. When Marcus was finally gone, Mike Malone closed the door, shut all the blinds, and turned off the lights. He sat down at his keyboard, logged into a pseudonymous twitter account which only he knew of, and composed a tweet:

@OfficialMT23 Yo fatty loose some weight, u an embarisment 2 sactown #marcusthorntonisfat #smh #notcoachmalone

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