Carmelo Anthony packed up his things, alone in the locker room, having fielded the last of the reporters’ questions. They had wanted to talk to Arron Afflalo about his excellent game tonight; but he was nowhere to be found. Must have left early, Carmelo thought as he slung his bag over his shoulder. Can’t blame him. No one liked to do post-game interviews.
As he left, he heard faintly the sound of a shower. He was not normally an environmentalist, but he figured that he might as well go and turn it off, to save some water. As he walked into the dim shower area, however, he noticed a figure lying face-down on the ground directly under the spray, identifiable by the number on the back of his jersey.
“Arron, what are you doing man?” Carmelo exclaimed as he shut off the shower.
“Drowning myself, until you came along” Arron said, not bothering to lift his face from the tiled floor.
Carmelo looked uneasy. “Uh…”
“It was working just fine, too. A couple more minutes and I would have passed from this cursed realm into the unthinking eternity of death. Why must you seize my one possible relief from me, as Dwyane Wade the square-jawed roid zombie seized my one possible All-Star game appearance?”
“I can turn it back on if you want, you’re the one who scored 38 after all, it’s your party. It ain’t gonna work though.”
“Don’t bother. This is obviously a sign from the laughing pantheon of gods that torment my every waking moment that I am meant to continue on my fruitless journey of misery that is called life.”
Carmelo squatted next to his teammate and put a hand on his damp shoulder. “You know, man, we’ve got some therapists and stuff that can help you out with these things that you’re feeling.”
“Those frauds, pretending to hold the key to relief, when in reality what they hold is but a mirror reflecting into their own twisted psyches. They have no answers. What could they say to me? That Dwyane deserved that All-Star spot?”
“Yeah, he was roidin’, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t a great player.” Carmelo paused. “Are a great player, I meant.”
Arron continued talking, ignoring the compliment. “I see the face of death, grinning his toothless grin, beckoning me to come. Do you see him, Carmelo? He is here with us, in this place of sorrow.”
Carmelo stood up suddenly. “Great talking to you man. Gotta get going.” he said as he hurried out.
Arron continued to lie prone on the wet floor. “I am but a marionette, made to dance at the whims of the vengeful gods who pull the strings. There is no escape,” he whispered into the darkness.