“Hey, do you think we should, uh, you know, tell Trey that he’s starting tonight and he should probably get ready for the game?” Derrick Favors asked Trevor Booker as he pointed at Trey Lyles , who was sitting on a folding chair facing the corner of the locker room, isolated from his teammates, clutching a decrepit cardboard box in his hands.
“I wouldn’t mess with Trey right now. He’s been moody lately, ever since he discovered that disgusting box. Really moody now that he’s had two bad games in a row,” Trevor responded with a grimace on his face. “I can’t tell if he really thinks that it contains his long-lost jumpshot or if he’s just playing with us.”
Favors looked angrily in the huddled figure’s direction. “Well, I’m tired of it. Tired of the smell, and tired of his weird-ass behavior.” He stood up, and quickly walked over to where Trey was sitting, now seemingly whispering to the tattered box which he was cradling. Trey didn’t notice until Derrick’s approach it was too late, not until his teammate ripped the object from his arms.
“AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Trey fell to the floor, writhing. “MY JUMP SHOT! GIVE IT BACK!” He reached out his hands desperately, opening and closing his hands, but could not gather the willpower to challenge Derrick, who was holding the box high above.
“I’m destroying this thing. It’s messed you up bad, man.” Derrick turned and walked towards a trash can, getting ready to rip the box apart. The threat of the box’s destruction awoke new energy in Trey, who immediately sprang up and tried to wrest the box from Derrick’s grasp. But he was no match for the bigger player, who easily shoved him out of the way and began to tear.
“NOOOOOOOO! PLEEEEEEEEEEASE! DON’T LET MY JUMPER FREEEEEEEEEEEE! I’LL NEVER FIND HIM AGAIN!” Trey wailed, having returned to writhing on the ground. Derrick’s face softened as he looked at the defeated rookie, and he stopped tearing.
“I p-p-promise to play good, I promise to hit my j-jumpers, just please, don’t kill him!” Trey mumbled through tears. He closed his eyes and began to sob in earnest, only stopping when he felt something mushy come in contact with his face.
“Fine. But you better suit up. And you’d better hit your jumpers, or I’m taking that thing and setting it on fire.” Derrick said as he turned to leave. The rest of the team followed, and Trey was now alone in the locker room. He took the box, now lying next to him on the floor and held it close to his chest.
“They want us to fail!” Trey murmured. “They are jealous of our success! But they will be dealt with in due time, will they not?”
He laughed. And the box seemed to laugh with him.