Shabazz Napier opened his eyes, and when he saw what was waiting for him beyond his newly-opened eyelids, his immediate thought was that his physical safety was in danger. He was sitting by himself in the booth of a ratty, dirty fast-food restaurant. Wherever it was, it was not in a good part of the city. The cushion underneath him was ripped in several places, and the plastic tabletop in front of him was stained with what he hoped was ketchup, along with many other unidentifiable substances.
A tray was on the table. On top of the misaligned promotional paper was a half-eaten carton of french fries and an empty burger wrapper. What had happened to lead him to this place with an unfinished fast food meal in front of him? Had he gotten blackout drunk in the aftermath of the game and wandered here in an unconscious daze? If so, how come he didn’t feel hungover? Was that even his food? Why weren’t there any other patrons in the restaurant?
Shabazz glanced up towards the counter. There were no employees visible, but the menu was still lit up. Seeing familiar things like Whoppers and King Junior Meals, he ascertained that he was in a Burger King, but, strangely, there were no employees around. Even stranger, when he looked out the windows to get a handle of his surroundings, they seemed to be blacked out.
Reaching for the phone that should have been in his pocket, he realized it was missing. That frightened him. Not only would he be unable to pintpoint his location via GPS, but it lent credence to the fact that he was somehow in danger. The utter unexpectedness of the situation was wearing off and being replaced with a minute, but growing, sense of panic.
When Shabazz got up to look for a phone up by the counter, he was startled by the fact that there was somebody sitting behind him who had definitely not been there before. Jumping backwards, he asked in as aggressive tone as he could muster, “Who are you?” If the man had abducted him, Shabazz wanted to show that he wasn’t a pushover.
The man didn’t seem perturbed by Shabazz’ aggressive behavior as he turned around and smiled. “The name’s Ben Uzoh. Welcome to my realm.” He stood up and extended his hand for a handshake. Confused, Shabazz shook it. The man looked somewhat like a basketball player, but the name wasn’t familiar to Shabazz at all.
“Where am I?” Shabazz asked.
“You’re in the Ghetto Burger King of Underwhelming Role-Player Triple-Doubles,” Ben answered. “It’s not the greatest, but it’s something, at least.”
Shabazz’s head was spinning and the too-bright fluorescent lights weren’t helping at all. “Wait…so this is like…hell?”
“It’s more like heaven if anything,” Ben replied. “It would be rather cruel if your reward for a mediocre triple-double were to be banished to a hellish realm of suffering. Have you checked out the menu yet?”
Shabazz was still incredibly confused. He had gotten a triple-double, but what was the other thing that Ben had said? That he was an underwhelming role-player? And what difference would the menu make if there was nobody to order from? Lacking anything better to do, Shabazz walked up the counter and looked at the menu board. He didn’t eat Burger King very often, but the menu looked normal. Except…
“That’s right,” Ben said from behind him. “You can get any three items on the menu for two bucks each. The triple-double.”
“But how do I order?” Shabazz asked.
Ben smiled. “Just order.”
Feeling foolish, Shabazz spoke his order into the air. “I’ll have, uh, a triple whopper with cheese, um, a spicy crispy chicken, and a large french fry.” As he completed his order, a tray materialized in front of him with the food that he had ordered. However, when he tried to take it off the counter, his hands were blocked by an invisible barrier.
“You have to pay,” Ben reminded him. “We get unlimited free refills, but not free food.”
Shabazz was still worried about his missing phone, but at least his wallet was still there. He took out his credit card and stuck it in the cash register that had materialized to receive it. Taking his food to the cleanest table he could find, he started eating as Ben, seated across from him, explained more.
“Every time you get a triple-double where you score fifteen or fewer points, you end up here.”
“And I’m just stuck here forever with you?” Shabazz asked around a mouthful of food.
“No, you can leave whenever you want by going out that door,” Ben said, pointing at the exit. “I’m just here because I’m the Guardian of the Ghetto Burger King. You should have seen how people react when they’re all alone here. Most of them starve to death!”
“Crazy,” Shabazz said. The food, which seemed more delicious than it had any right to be, was turning his confused, angry mood into a cheerful one. “Hey, you said there were free drinks?”