Dear Mr. Davis,
Honestly, eff you dude. You patronizing mother effer. All I wanted was a fresh pair of your signature shoes, the Air Jets, and next thing I know, you’re sitting next to me on a bench pretending you understand my life. Goddammit dude, goddammit.
Let me explain, bro. I was playing ball the other day, with the girl of my dreams cheering me on. I had a chance to tie the game and send it into overtime. Some chump named Rodger totally punked me at the line and called me out for having lame shoes on. Take a wild guess what happened next…clank. Missed the game tying shot.
Also, keep in mind that I was playing ball in a sweater vest and khaki shorts. Also keep in mind that my blue best friend Moquito Valentino has a pair of reversible shoes (ya guy, reversible). I was the laughing stock at the courts, and I went home sad and embarrassed.
So my next move was obvious. What’s the best way to make every one think you’re good at basketball? Buy the most expensive shoes of course. It is the number one way to let people know that I suck at basketball but hey at least I look good. (Please don’t bring up the obvious oversight that wearing a sweater vest and khaki shorts is enough to get me banned from the courts. I get it) So, I meandered over to the mall to get a pair of your shoes…only to find that oh wait I’m just a kid who clearly can’t afford $150 shoes. How embarrassing. Even so, they were about a thousand sizes too big for me. After I failed to realize that I can look cool in a variety of different sneaks, I went out to the bench to sulk and reconsider life all together.
That’s when you showed up.
You patronizing son of gun. Just haaaaad to sit down next to me and pretend we wear the same sneakers. Listen, you and I both know you don’t wear the equivalent of New Balances in your spare time. What NBA player actually wear’s New Balances? So don’t patronize me. I was in a moment of self-pity and you had to come over and get your “give back to my community” garbage out of the way. Then you had me sign your shoes…bull shit. Obviously you just grabbed a pair, put them on, made me feel good about signing them, and threw em away instantly.
How does that make me feel? Um ya pretty terrible. So not only do I suck at basketball, wear the whitest shoes possible and I missed a key shot in front of my lady to be (fingers crossed!!), but you called attention to it because you think your life is loosely based on A Hundred Deeds for Eddie McDowd. So obnoxious.
So, in conclusion, I hate you. Go back to your mansion and your Air Jets and your what have you. Maybe if I was on the Make-A-Wish foundation or something you could tell me things would get better and wear New Balances with me while I met your teammates and your coach told me I could play for the team someday. But for now, I am just a depressed adolescent who’s bummed about my shortcomings on and off the court. Leave me alone, dick.
Doug Y. Funnie
P.S. You really sell size 24 Triple E?? Like just in case Shaq happens to be in Bluffington and needs a pair of Air Jets, you’ve got him covered! Seriously I hate you.
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