Today the team did a charity event at a local hospital. I am always pleased when we visit the sick children. It feels nice to bring some happiness to their lives when they are beset with such severe diseases and syndromes. It helps to keep things in perspective, that basketball is not everything in life – health and friendship are more important than some sporting contest.
The devil’s precipitation had fallen on the morning of the event. By the afternoon the sky had ceased disgorging that vile substance, but the cursed white sand was fresh upon the ground when we set out. I was, of course, dressed in my customary layers of clothing to ensure that not even one grain of Lucifer’s sand could touch my exposed skin. If I allowed the evil stuff to touch me, I would surely end up in the hospital next to all those kids.
Everything was fine once I was in the hospital. I played games with the children and took pictures with them. Their smiling happiness was infectious, and even when I caught a glimpse of the cursed white sand outside the window, I would forget it soon after.
When it was time to go, we all stood outside on the lawn outside the hospital to say goodbye. The children who were well enough had dressed in their winter clothes and were playing in the “snow” as they call it – I do not understand the rituals of these strange Minnesotans. I was uncomfortable standing outside and begged coach to be let back onto the bus to go back to the arena, but he told me I had to stay. So I stayed, and that was my downfall.
A custom here in Minnesota is a simulated battle called a “snowball fight”, where the standard munitions of war are replaced with compacted spheres of the sinister white sand. Obviously I would never willingly take part in such a battle, but today, I was given no choice in the matter.
While we talked with hospital officials and shook their hands, some of the children (who I suspect were planted in Minnesota by Satan himself in order to more effectively torment me) snuck up behind us and began to throw snowballs. My teammates reacted with surprise and then glee, forming their own snowballs to lob playfully back at the children. However, at the first sign of danger, I immediately began sprinting away from the scene to avoid being assaulted with the highly concentrated demon powder.
I was not fast enough. I was struck in the back by a snowball, thrown by teammate or child, I do not know. I would hope it was not a teammate, for they know well my opinions on winter weather here in Minnesota. In either case, I was unbalanced running in my five layers of footwear and fell face-first into the snow. If I had not caught myself with my hands, my face would have been covered in white sand, and I would likely have perished.
So enraged was I by this cowardly attack that I turned around with a roar and charged at the first child I saw, a small girl of about nine years old. She was laughing shrilly, thinking that I was taking part in a game. The cursed white sand is no game to me. I picked her up with both hands, and, while she continued to giggle, I lifted her over my head and tossed her away from me as hard as I was able.
The girl landed in a snowbank and began to cry. I ran after her to give her additional punishment (I could see in her eyes that she was not a real child but actually a demon servant of Satan), but I was stopped by my teammates. The hospital staff told us we had to leave, which I was more than happy to do. But on the way back to the arena, nobody would talk to me, and when we got off the bus, I was informed that I had been suspended for the next game.
The suspension, I can live with. It was worth it to show to Satan that I will not be intimidated by his evil minions and their weapons of snow. But the threat of being assaulted by snowballs at any possible moment has made me extremely anxious. I will have to purchase additional layers of clothing at the very least, but I do not intend to go outside for the foreseeable future. If the team suspends me additional games for not playing, so be it. Every second I spend outdoors in this cursed land of Minnesota is putting my life at risk.