Markelle Fultz 16 Points/8 Assists Full Highlights (1/1/2020)

New Year’s Eve is usually a quiet time for DownToBuck. Since I have a responsibility to my subscribers to provide high-quality and timely NBA highlight videos, I will usually turn down MULTIPLE invitations to fun NYE events in order to spend time alone in front of my computer.

This year I got slightly more festive by making myself a bowl of punch to enjoy while working on highlight videos. At no point did the festivities resemble any kind of “party”, since it was just me and my kitty Japurri Purrker, but it was festive enough that I was actually kind of looking forward to watching the clock on my computer screen tick over into 2020. I was sipping punch and watching Japurri waddle around uncomfortably because I gave him a double serving of knockoff Fancy Feast. He meowed sadly at me whenever I looked him in the eyes.

But my solitary appreciation of the ending of 2019 was interrupted by a knock on my door. I couldn’t think of who would be visiting at that late hour, since I hadn’t invited anybody over and I don’t have any friends who are the type to make unannounced visits. Then I remembered that I made a GrubHub order three days ago that never arrived (rather than doing anything about it, I just ordered from another place), so I figured it was them finally delivering my food.

It wasn’t a six piece fried chicken and two piece catfish at the door, though. It was the cute Latina who lives in the apartment above mine. I don’t know what her name is so she will just be “The Latina” going forward.

“It sounded like you were having a fun party down here,” she said. “Can I join in?”

I hesitated to answer because her request didn’t make sense. I never make noise. I am the perfect apartment neighbor in that regard. My computer speakers are rarely used, and it’s always headphones after 8 PM. The TV hardly ever gets turned on, and it wasn’t on then (obsession with watching the ball drop is a normie vice). Also, there was nobody coming and going from my apartment to make it seem like I was having any kind of gathering.

The punch wasn’t even alcoholic party punch. It was just cranberry juice and Fresca.

I guess I made some kind of indication that she could come in, because the Latina came in and immediately went to my punch bowl to have some punch. I wanted to apologize for only having one bag of chips, but then I was like, I was only expecting to need chips for myself. Not chips for two people, one of whom is, as the kids are fond of saying, “thicc”.

She wasn’t too upset, though. She had fun petting Japurri on the tummy, which I don’t think Japurri liked that much because he was just lying there from having had too much for dinner. Then I told her that I was just planning to watch the date change on my computer to celebrate the new year and she seemed cool with that. Honestly, it was nice having her sit in front of the computer with me. It felt really cozy. But since I am done with women forever, it wasn’t a romantic kind of cozy. At least, I was trying to prevent it from becoming the romantic kind of cozy.

I opened up the big visual clock thing in Windows when the minute hit 11:59. That way we could count down the seconds until the new decade started. But while I was staring intently at the movement of the hands of the on-screen clock, I could tell the Latina was looking at me instead of the screen. I started getting the bad feeling that she was planning something. A “something” that people often did to celebrate the new year. A “something” that involved the touching of lips.

Finally, the clock went to 12:00 and the year went to 2020. I looked at her and said “Happy New Year!” but she was already moving her face towards mine. She looked so pretty with her eyes closed and with her cleavagey blue dress on that my resolve to keep women locked out of my heart melted away in an instant.

Just then, I got a whiff of something putrid in my nostrils. Quickly pushing my rolling computer chair out of the Latina’s “kiss zone”, I whirled my head around towards the source of the scent.

“NO JAPURRI! NOT ON THE CARPET!” I yelled, but it was too late. Japurri had failed to make it to the litter box on time and was making poopies all over the carpet. Ruing my decision to give him an extra serving of dinner, I picked him up and ran with him to the kitchen, where at least the linoleum would be easier to scrub.

The Latina followed and offered to help me clean up, but I shooed her out of the apartment. I even gave her the whole punch bowl, which was still half full, as a souvenir.

When she was gone, I looked at the brown, splattered carnage of my living room floor with relief flooding through me. That had been way too close. “Thanks Japurri, you’re the best,” I said to my feline friend, who purred happily as his intestinal distress had been relieved. I can always count on Japurri to save me from the insidious clutches of cute Latina neighbors.

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