“You’re not gonna believe this place, Will, the women are primed and ready to go at any time of day,” Wilson Chandler was saying as a small group of Nuggets players walked through downtown Denver. Glancing back to make sure his proclamation of the upcoming club’s promiscuous women was heard, he stopped walking. “Will, you okay?”
“So…c-cold…” Will Barton moaned from his position lying on the sidewalk. “N-n-nobody told me it was t-t-this c-c-c-c-cold!” he chattered.
“Well, maybe if you wore a jacket and not just a t-shirt, you wouldn’t be having this problem,” said Darrell Arthur, who was swaddled in a furry winter parka. “A skinny dude like you should know better. This is Colorado in February, man.”
Will clutched his arms around his body. “I-it’s not m-my f-f-fault that I can’t p-p-put on any m-muscle,” he said through lips that were turning blue.
Wilson rolled his eyes. “Well, we’re going to hit up this nightclub, and if you manage to overcome your hypothermia enough to join us, maybe we won’t have taken all the good women.”
“Don’t l-leave me,” Will pleaded, lacking the strength to pick himself up. “I want t-to b-b-bang women t-t-too.” But his voice was getting weaker, and it seemed clear that even if he did manage to get to the club, his virility would be diminished to near zero.
“You made your bed, now you lie in it,” Darrell said wisely. “Maybe some hippie will think you’re homeless and give you a blanket or something.” The two standing basketball players turned and continued to walk down the street, leaving their teammate behind.
“W-w-wait…” Will whispered, feeling the world grow cloudy. But his teammates did not return. Alone on the streets of Denver, Will slipped into a hypothermic coma, his skinny body ravaged by the unforgiving Colorado winter.