JaVale McGee 8 Points/4 Blocks Full Highlights (11/1/2014)

JaVale McGee, clad scantily in a leopard-print speedo, relaxed in his outdoor hot tub. The contrast between the cool mountain air on his chest and the warm bubble-jets on his legs was sublime, much like the pairing of a medium-bodied Tuscan Chianti and rich dark chocolates from Paris which floated on a tray in front of him.

Faintly, JaVale could hear the first few bars of Telemann’s classic Grillen-Symphonie, the defining late-Baroque work which he cherished dearly, being played throughout his house. The doorbell! Wrapping himself in a lush purple towel, JaVale journeyed through his house to the front door. Opening it, he found none other than teammate Jusuf Nurkic.

“Jusuf, my good friend! I was not expecting company, as you can see by my dress, but I am always eager to entertain!”

Jusuf looked past his teammate into the ornately-furnished interior of JaVale’s home. “Man, the guys were right. You are a pretty weird dude.”

JaVale furrowed his brow. “Weird? Certainly not! I am a man who enjoys the finer things, the luxuries that I am so fortunate to be able to afford. There is nothing weird about living a life of elegance.”

“Yeah, elegance,” Jusuf responded dully. “Listen, I was going to go hit the clubs, and I was wondering if you wanted to come with?”

“I’ll have to decline, my friend,” JaVale replied. “The sounds they play in those establishments could hardly be termed ‘music’, and the women there do not befit a man of my standing.”

“Okay, cool, more chicks for me. See you at practice, then, I guess,” Jusuf said, not seeming too put-out. He turned and walked back down the steep, verdantly-landscaped front steps.

As JaVale closed the door and turned to return to his hot tub, there was a voice from upstairs. “Who was that, Vale-Vale?” Looking up the flight of stairs, JaVale saw a tired-looking Kenneth Faried emerge from the bedroom, stretching his arms exaggeratedly.

“Oh, just one of the other guys. I fail to understand the appeal of those dancing clubs they all frequent, but they are their own men, and they can engage in whatever activity pleases them.”

Suddenly, a smirk appeared on his face. “You ready for round two, stud-boy?” he yelled, abandoning his towel and running up the stairs to rejoin Kenneth in the bedroom.

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