SWISH went the basket as the ball passed cleanly through it, leaving nothing but displaced air and a net that felt as though it had been somewhat violated.
“Dear lord,” said Ray-Jay, running his fingers through his hair in utter disbelief. “Thats two. Two in a row.”
“Impressive, isn’t it?” I said as I readied myself for yet another backwards half court shot. “Schultz are you watching? This is history in the making! I would hazard a guess that no one has ever made two backwards half court shots in a row before ever.” Schultz of course was not listening, seeing as he had passed out, much like an LSU fan 5 minutes into the second quarter,
His unconsciousness was most likely due to overexposure to awesomeness, courtesy of me making two backwards half court shots in a row. Ray-Jay, being a half court shot witness veteran, had shielded his eyes and turned the children around before the second shot had gone in thusly rescuing them from the more serious side effects of such an event.
“Hang on, let me use my smartphone to find out.” Ray-Jay said as he began furiously clicking away. The fool! “My god, you’re right! No one has ever made 3 backwards shots in a row! Ever!”
“Of course not! It’s fucking impossible! Now watch…ANDBEAMAZED!” I hurled the ball mightily into the the awaiting bosom of the air. On wings of glory it flew! Pole, Andrew and Armani, the children I had mentioned earlier, began to drool uncontrollably at the majestic arch and sublimely perfect trajectory of the rubbery projectile as it splendidly soared to it’s intended target. As it neared the hoop all of the onlookers held their breath. When the ball passed through the net, the only sound to be heard was the collective exhale and dumbfounded admiration of the collective audience.
“I… I…” stuttered Pole. I can only assume that his brain was attempting to process what it had just witnessed, you see, and therefore speech was all but impossible.
“Silence you troglodyte!” I shouted at him, “Shut your face and retrieve my ball.”
“But…” said Ray-Jay, entirely caught up in the moment, “You’ve already made three backwards halfcourt shots in a row, a feat even the mighty Hercules could not accomplish! Surely you don’t mean to…”
“Enough!” I interrupted as Pole returned with the ball. “I am not done here. Not yet.” I positioned myself in a horse stance for maximum power, and inhaled deeply.
The ball literally flew from my fingertips, a rainbow arching behind it that rained coins down upon the recumbent form of Schultz. The light was blinding; I’m surprised even I was able to withstand the ball’s terrible glare! Pole and the other children were on their knees weeping, overtaken by the beauty of the moment. An onlooker might not have even noticed the slight metallic clink caused by an object passing perfectly through a basketball hoop, caught up as they would undoubtably be in the glamour of the moment. The ball striking the cold, synthetic wood floor of the gym had the effect of a judge’s gavel. Silence reigned for what seemed like hours untill little Pole approached me cautiously and trembling asked me
“Are you god?”
“No, no child. I am not your god.” I chuckled as I patted Pole on the head, “I merely play basketball like him.” Ray-Jay stood stunned and unmoving, like an especially stiff plank of wood. I’m afraid the shock might have killed him. Shultz had woken up and was playing in a small pile of golden coins, tossing them in the air in euphoria.
“Money! Hooray!” he shouted. The coins, which had hitherto provided him with bushels of amusement, began to fade, and were all but gone by the time they reached the floor. “Aww.” He lamented. I squatted down and ran my finger across the floor where the gold had just been. I then raised it to my nose, sniffed and recoiled.
“Leprechaun gold! Tricky stuff, that. Should have known. It disappears right when you are appreciating it the most.”
“Charles?” Schultz asked, worried.
“I think all the children have evaporated.” I looked over to where the children were. There now remained only a small puddle of evaporating liquid.
“Ah, so they have.” I replied, helping Schultz to his feet. “Well, what do you say to a piece of that campers cookie cake?”
“I’d say fuck yeah my friend, fuck yeah.”