The shimmering silver haze of the hall stretched on to infinity. High-arched windows ascended towards an unseen ceiling. Benches and fountains occasionally served to break up the vast grandeur. On one of these benches sat a hunched-over figure, adorned in a white robe.
Donald Sloan was bored. None of his Pacers teammates ever came to visit him, here in the Hall of 30-Point Scorers. It was beautiful and breathtaking, he could admit, but that didn’t change the fact that there was nothing to do here. Suddenly, he heard a faint voice in the distance.
“Donald!”
He squinted his eyes against the omnipresent ethereal glare. In the distance, he could faintly see another white-robed figure running towards him.
“Hey Donald!”
Whether it was a trick of the light or some other unknown sorcery, suddenly the unknown person was right in front of him. It was CJ Miles, smiling broadly.
“I knew I’d find you here Donald! Isn’t this place great? I totally thought it was a dream last time I was here, maybe it still is, but it’s great to be back!”
“Oh yeah, great to see you CJ. Some game you had last night. Seven treys, wow. Must be nice to get minutes sometimes.” Sloan responded surlily.
“Hey man, don’t be like that. No room for negativity in the Hall of the 30-Point Scorers!”
“Why shouldn’t I be like that? This place is boring as hell, you might think just walking around in eternal bliss is fun and great, but I sure don’t. I want babes. I want liquor. I want both combined in new and exciting ways. Still, glad you’re here CJ. I was getting a little tired of Carlos Delfino, luckily this place is so gigantic I was able to lose him for a bit.”
CJ sat down next to his teammate and fellow 30-point scorer. “So, what do you want to do?”
“Sit here like I have been for the past I don’t know how long.”
“Sounds cool.”
So they sat, enswathed in a mystical light, the faint trickling of water the only noise. What else was there to do, here, in the Hall of the 30-Point scorers?