Kevin Durant walked through the halls of the Thunder practice facility after getting some individual drills in. It was late, and he though he was the only on there. But as he walked, he thought he heard a wailing voice. Curious, he navigated his way towards the source of the noise. Soon, he stood outside a closed door that was marked “Storage”. The wailing was louder now, but hardly any clearer, and there seemed to be a low rumbling now accompanying it. He opened the door, and was greeted with a terrible sight.
There was Jeremy Lamb standing in front of a microphone, holding a hot pink guitar and wearing some sort of multi-colored, glittery bodysuit. Behind him, surrounded by a huge drumkit and similarly clad, was Ryan Gomes. Jeremy looked startled and opened his mouth to explain, but Durant cut him off.
“What in the hell is goin’ on here?”
“Yo, Kevin, what’s up man? Didn’t know you were here this late. We’re just jamming some Crüe tunes. Ain’t we, Ryan?”
“Yeah alright, I guess I get that part. I thought I heard somethin’. But what’s up with the outfit?”
“Well if we’re gonna be a glam metal band, we gotta look the part, don’t we?”
“Glam? I don’t want to be racist, Jeremy, but glam is a genre strictly for white people. Not least because you can’t pull off that teaseled hair look. Can’t you just form a hip-hop duo or somethin’?”
“Sometimes you gotta make sacrifices in the name of art. And, by the way, hip-hop is the lowest form of music. Glam is a higher art for seasoned music aficionados like myself and Ryan.”
Gomes looked down at his drums, as if he was embarrassed to be there.
“So you guys got a name yet?”
Ryan piped up. “Yeah, a real slick name. Jeremy and the Little Lambs. You can guess which egomaniac picked that one.”
“Shut up Ryan, your idea was ‘Mouzz Trapp’. I mean, come on. I’m the frontman. It only makes sense that the act is named after me.”
“Hey girls, cool down. I think it’s a good name. Catchy. But where’s your bass player?”
Jeremy cast a sidelong glance at the unused bass amp in the corner. “Steven flaked out on us again. I’m beginning to doubt his commitment to the Little Lambs. It’s a shame, too, cause that motha’ can slap out some really funky stuff.”
“Sorry to hear that. I guess I’ll be getting goin’ now, leave your guys to your ‘art’. But if you ever need someone to lay down some sick rhymes, just give me a call. Let it be known to all that Kevin Durant has mad flow.”