Channing Frye 21 Points/5 Threes Full Highlights (4/12/2014)

Sitting in his Portland apartment, Channing sadly contemplated his unsuccessful career. He was a free agent now, but after scoring a mere four points per game the previous season, he wasn’t even sure if there was a place for him in the NBA anymore. His agent tried to put on a brave face, but Channing knew that there weren’t any teams that had expressed interest. They were already exploring overseas options.

He knew he had to reinvent his game, give teams a reason to at least give him a look, if he wanted to stick in the NBA. “I would sell my soul to have a three-point shot,” he mumbled to his empty living room.

There was a puff of smoke from behind him. He turned around, thinking that maybe his hot pockets had burned again, but the origin of the smoke was not kitchen-related. A large being, cloaked in black, was standing next to the bookcase. Its body seemed humanlike, but its head was that of a goat. Two large horns spiraled out of the top, near the ears. In its left hand, a leather-bound book; in its right, a chalice containing either wine or blood.

“God dang! It’s the Devil!” Channing exclaimed, eyes popping out of his head. “I wasn’t really serious about that soul-selling stuff, I swear.”

“God dang indeed,” replied Satan. “You mortals are always getting my hopes up. I do wield the power of wish-granting, but when it comes down to it, you humans would rather hang on to that useless scrap of ether known as your soul.”

Now Channing reconsidered. He didn’t remember the last time he had actually used his soul for anything important, and the ability to hit threes would turn him into a coveted stretch-four.

“I gaze into your mind, Channing, and what I see pleases me greatly. I can assure you that, in due time, you would get perhaps a 5-year, 30-million contract if you only possessed the ability to shoot from three-point range. All that is necessary is for you to give me permission to reap your soul.”

Having made up his mind, Channing clapped his hands together and stood up. “Let’s do this.”

Satan opened up his book and incanted the requisite texts, smoke pouring out from beneath his robe. Then, the ritual was complete. “Thank you, Channing. I control your soul now. I’ll let you know if I have any plans for you.” With those words, the goat-headed being disappeared silently.

Channing felt nothing physically, but mentally, he already could tell that the clarity of his perception had improved dramatically. He felt some twinges around his heart area, but ignored them, instead grabbing his gear for a trip to the gym. Conscription into Satan’s demonic army was nothing compared to threes he would splash.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.