Nikola Vucevic retrieved a sheet of paper from the box of fine stationery above his desk. Words this important deserved to be written on the finest paper and with the finest ink. Setting the paper down next to an intricately-crafted ballpoint pen, he only needed to ponder for a few seconds before the words began to flow out of him:
“Tonight we battled, you and I
Two great foes locked in ferocious combat
As I planned, you were neutralized by
My ability to hit a twenty-foot jumpshot
Whiteside is the name on your jersey
Printed there in letters so clear
But your name was changed this day
It is now “Bitchboy” due to the fear
That I struck into your very heart
When the fury of my jumper was unchained
Padding your block totals played a part
In the jumpshots which upon you I rained
Like all the great wars in antiquity
There were two: victor and vanquished
Victory was mine because you played shitty
And you will forever be my personal bitch”
Nikola looked down at his poetry and deemed it of acceptable quality. Carefully folding the paper, he slipped it in an envelope which had Hassan Whiteside’s address on the front.