Today's J Trip

Today's trip to the J was a bit different from any that I have had before, but as I am sure you have gathered, none is. Started off in the gym shooting hoops with my boy Will, and we were soon joined by Killa Cam and Steinberg. Our quartet was soon booted from the indoor court because there was an old men's league playing, so we headed outdoors.

Once outside, we found a large contingent of African-American fellows, most appearing to be about our age, and some a bit younger. I recognized one of the kids, a certain Keyshawn, from my days as a McClintock Scot. The chap had gotten considerably taller, and I could tell right away that he would soon school us in a sport in which the color of his skin alone would assure certain dominance (stereotypically).

My prediction was correct. We were beaten rather badly by the man and his crew, although my boy Will held his own. Throughout the game, I was "checking" a five-foot-three scrawny fuck who did nothing but talk shit the entire game. Unfortunately, my game was shit, so his words were surprisingly relevant. Finally, toward the end of the game, I got the ball beyond the arc. "Don't check my man, he ain't gonna make it," the little shit remarked. I quickly made eye contact with him, then fired a shot through the air that swished satisfactorily through a second later. Showed that bitch.

After basketball, the fellas were pretty beat so we parted ways: I headed to the weight room, and they sauntered off toward the hot tub. I never found out if our dear Prussian (yes, I'm certain he is Prussian) was in the sauna. I guess I'll never know.