Arron Afflalo 31 Points Full Highlights (12/14/2014)

Arron Afflalo lay prone upon the grass outside the Pepsi Center. Cold raindrops splashed on his face, but he paid them no attention.

“Hey, Arron!” It was Nate Robinson, who was walking across the lawn towards him. “Why are you looking so down? You did great tonight, my man.”

Arron sighed dramatically. “The suffocating veil of depression covers my soul like a burial shroud. Hope is but a distant memory, long ago vanished into the horizon of dreams.”

Nate tilted his head in confusion. “You talkin’ like some emo kid. Just spit it out, man.”

Arron closed his eyes against the rain, relishing the blackness which he hoped would soon take over his life fully. “I failed to be voted to the All-Star team last year, and now my window has closed, because I play in a stacked Western Conference.”

“Yeah, well, that was probably a snub last year, but you can’t let it get to you. It’s just a popularity contest,” consoled Nate, who had gotten down in a squatting position next to his teammate.

“That roidmonster D-Wade took my spot. And not only did he take my spot, he stole from me the very core of my essence, leaving behind nothing but a charred, disfigured husk.”

“Well, you know-” Nate began, before being interrupted by a continuance of Arron’s morose monologue.

“The violent winds of agony have carried me to this damned place. Black is my life. How strangely ironic! In time, black will be my death, as well.”

There was a few seconds’ silence before Nate responded. “We got some team psychologists if you need to talk through this stuff, man. I gotta get going.”

Nate walked off, leaving Arron to continue lying on the wet grass, his shirt now soaked through. “Woe is me,” he whispered, hoping that the rain would drown him and his tortured mind.

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