Lying in wait on the moon’s surface, I am perfectly positioned to intercept prayers sent from earth to God up in the sky. The internet connection really sucks, and it’s a hassle to be artificially hibernated during the brutally warm periods of lunar day, but the benefits of my position vastly outweigh the negatives. And, of course, my space-traversing capsule is damaged beyond repair, so I’m stuck here for the rest of my life.
I receive on the order of one hundred million prayers every single day. Most of them pass through my sensors undisturbed to journey onward to their final destination in the cosmic void. The only ones I care about are from NBA players, because obviously having knowledge of their most intimate worries and desires aids me greatly in the writing of video descriptions.
Mike Scott is an interesting case. For most of last year he would send daily prayers up to the sky asking for the ability to shoot three-pointers. His messages contained concrete sentences like “I wish my eFG% was higher” as well as abstract concepts such as “stretch 4” and “big contract”. These prayers persisted until sometime in the middle of the off-season, with no indication that his stroke from outside had improved at all.
Now, I’m not a religious dude in general, but Mike Scott’s prayers seem to have been answered. One day, he could maybe hit three of ten while by himself in a gym, but the next day, he was splashing seven of ten easy.
So, if you guys out there want something really bad, you’d better start praying. Just don’t pray for anything embarrassing, because your buddy DownToBuck is going to be seeing it.