“I’m so pumped that you decided to bring me along for your Christmas hijinks,” Nick Young said happily, riding shotgun in Timofey Mozgov’s brand-new Porsche. “Your late-night exploits have a reputation around the league, you know.”
Timofey shrugged as he downed half a bottle of vodka. “In Russia, my antics barely arouse attention of police, but in America apparently I do much illegal thing.” The two blonde females riding in the back giggled happily in response while they stroked Nick’s arms and chest.
“So, where we headed?” Nick asked. “Or are we just gonna drive around and cause Christmas mayhem while consuming large amounts of imported Russian booze?”
“I having plan,” Timofey replied simply. He finished his bottle of vodka and turned towards the backseat, ignoring the road completely for a moment. “Hey bitch! Papa Timofey requiring another bottle of vodka.” One of the women obediently dug through the large pile of bottles on the floor of the car before finding a suitable one and handing it up to the front.
“If you got any beers back there, I could use one too,” Nick said politely. A brown bottle was handed to him, but Nick couldn’t read the Cyrillic characters. He drank it anyway, wanting to at least pretend to match his teammate in drunkenness.
—
“We’re here,” Timofey announced, pulling into the driveway of an unknown house in one of the fancier neighborhoods of Los Angeles.
“This your place?” Nick asked, impressed with the size and opulence of the mansion.
Laughing, Timofey replied, “Not quite. Even my big contract not yet paying for nice house like this.” He got out of the car, told the women to wait, and started walking, not towards the front door, but towards the side of the house. Nick followed somewhat warily; he didn’t understand what Timofey’s plan was. He got the strange feeling that Timofey wasn’t invited to this house, whoever’s house it was.
Timofey was looking into one of the windows. “Yep. He’s here. Look.”
After Timofey stepped away, Nick walked up to the window and peered in. “That’s Kobe!” he whispered, seeing his former teammate sitting in the living room with a small amount of family members surrounding him. They were all busily unwrapping presents.
Nick looked away from the window to find that Timofey had wandered off somewhere. Walking to the back of the house, Nick found Timofey looking inquisitively up at the dark roof of the house. “There must being some way up,” he mused out loud. “Oh, how about this?” He ran over to a ladder that was laying on its side near the gardener’s shed, grabbed it, then propped it up against the wall of Kobe Bryant’s house.
“What the heck you wanna get on Kobe’s roof for?” Nick asked, feeling more and more like he just wanted to get back in Timofey’s Porsche and drive somewhere where they could take part in normal Christmas activities.
“It fun Christmas game in Russia. Hard to translate to English, but roughly called ‘Christmas Chimney Shitter’,” Timofey answered from the roof of Kobe’s house. “I go up to Kobe’s chimney and make a poop in it, in Russia we calling it the special Christmas log, haha.”
It was a few moments before Nick formulated a response. “I think I’ll just wait down here,” he said. He didn’t want to play the Christmas chimney game.
“Cool, you can use phone to videoing Kobe’s reaction when special Christmas log plop into fireplace,” Timofey said. “Then we post on YouTube and make viral video.”
“Um,” Nick began, trying to come up with a refutation of Timofey’s plan. When no refutation could be come up with, Nick walked back over to the window looking into Kobe’s living room. He retrieved his phone from his pocket, set it on camera mode, and began filming, feeling like a voyeur. He heard Timofey’s faint voice yell, “Okay, I making the poop now!”
A few seconds later, Kobe’s daughter screeched, “What is that?” as she pointed at the fireplace. Kobe annoyedly got up and looked into the roaring fire, then recoiled in disgust. Nick couldn’t make out very much, but it was likely that Timofey’s excrement was melting and creating a horrible stench. Nick continued to film, catching Kobe swearing angrily before running towards the front door.
Suddenly, Timofey landed on the ground next to Nick. “Kobe so mad, I hear him swear from roof! He got extra large Christmas log present!” he said happily.
“We gotta split, man, Kobe’s coming out here!” Nick said urgently. “If he finds us he’ll kill us for sure!”
Timofey and Nick sprinted back towards where Timofey’s car was parked. Just as they got into it and Timofey started the engine, Kobe bolted out of the house onto his front lawn. “Hey! Assholes! Come back here!”
As Timofey sped off down the street, Nick was glad that Timofey had tinted windows and obscured license plates. “Timofey, can we never do this again? Like, ever?”
“What, Russian Christmas games too intense for wimp American sissy?” Timofey mocked. “Maybe next Christmas you will be target of Christmas Chimney Shitter, haha!”