Post by L.C. Pinkston on Jun 14, 2023 12:43:27 GMT -5
Narrator:
Now we are all aware of what The Draft brings to sports in general. Is it a foundational piece to propel your franchise to the tippy top like LeBron James or Andrew Luck, or will you piss down your leg and draft the next Jamarcus Russell or Anthony Bennett. That’s the point we are trying to make here.
Lewis pops up from around the corner with an ice cream cone. He takes a long lick and looks up.
“Shit man. You started already?”
Narrator:
Yeah. If I ran on your time I’d never get anything done.
Lewis quickly looks around and tosses his ice cream cone into a trash basket.
“There ya go Pic. I just knew you wanted an ice cream. Who’s a good boy?”
Narrator:
Do you remember what happened the last time you insulted a potential drafter?
Lewis rubs his chin and shakes his head ‘No’.
Narrator:
Let me remind you.
A Super Sweet Wayne’s World transition. You know the wavy lines and stuff. Yeah…. You get it.
June 23, 2022
Barclays Center
Brooklyn, New York
Inside of a green room sit a plethora of young men awaiting their dreams to finally become a reality. All of them dressed to the nines. In the back you can spot someone that is just a bit differently dressed than the others. His suit isn’t really a suit, it's more of an amalgamation of things someone would find at a Goodwill. Dark brown blazer, crème colored pants and to top the ensemble off…
“Yeah man.” Lewis plops his foot up onto the table. Knocking a few drinks around. “These Crocs are some of the most comfortable things in the world.”
A man sitting across from him not only looks completely disinterested in Lewis but also highly annoyed. “That’s nice.”
“Right!? Check this out.” Lewis pulls one of the Crocs off and lifts the flap on the back. “BOOM! Sport mode. I could break so many ankles with these bad boys.”
“Probably your own.” The man said while rolling his eyes.
“Nah fam. Look, this bad boy ain’t going anywhere.” Lewis wiggles his foot right in the man’s face. With the back of his hand the man gently moves the foot away from him. “Alright I get it. You’re a man with no class and style. A real Debbie downer.”
“I’m just focused on my job.”
“Oh you got a job? Sweet. I’m kind of in between things right now. So I decided to throw my name in the hat here.” Lewis looks around and there seems to be some scuttle near a podium. “Looks like they are about to call my name.”
Lewis stands up and adjusts his ‘suit’ and straightens his clip on tie. “See you never again you fuckin dweeb.”
At the podium Adam Silver walks up with an envelope. “With the first pick in the 2022 NBA Draft, the Orlando Magic Select…”
Lewis takes a step forward. “Always one for the dramatics.”
Adam Silver looks down at the envelope. “From Duke University, Paolo Banchero.”
Lewis stops in his tracks and curls his lips. “I didn’t want to move to Orlando anyways.”
Hey guess what? The Wayne’s World transition back to the present day. I know, we are totally blowing the budget on this one.
Narrator:
That man you jammed your foot in their face… General Manager of the Magic.
“Yeah so what. Look what good Paolo did for them. Still didn’t make the playoffs… and Twenty fucking teams get in. And they weren’t even bad enough to get ANOTHER number one pick. Sucks to suck.”
Lewis begins walking down the hall and stops at a door. On a piece of paper taped to the door in sharpie is written ‘PIC’. Although the C is backwards and it’s angled. Lewis tilts his head.
“You’d think they would have plaques or something.”
Narrator:
I told you, we blew our budget on the transitions. This was all we had to work with.
“Fine. It’s not like he’s here anyways. Dude wouldn’t know what a winner looks like if he spelled his moniker with just three letters.”
Narrator:
Lew, his name is PIC.
“Yeah. PICK. As in "Don't PICK Me.”
Narrator:
You wrote the sign.
“And I ran out of space.”
Narrator:
Ran…. You ran out of Space?
“Yeah. It’s not the first time I ran out of space.”
Narrator:
Are we really doing this again?
“Yup.”
BOOM! Super sick explosion transition. The frame crumbles down piece by piece until we are taken to.
April 27, 2023
Union Station
Kansas City, Missouri
Lewis is once again somehow in a green room. This time however he isn’t happy-go-lucky. He actually seems nervous. Tapping his foot rapidly and looking around.
A few people walk past him and he doesn’t look at them. Lewis then stands up and in an attempt to shake all the nervous energy out shakes his arms wildly. A rogue hand flys and smacks a man in the face.
“Oh shit!” Lewis quickly bends down and helps the man to his feet. “I’m so sorry.” Lewis begins to caress the man’s face. “You’ll be okay.”
The man forcefully removes Lewis’ hand. “What is your problem, you gangly, unbalanced baby giraffe?”
“I said I’m sorry.” Lewis then begins to straighten out the man’s shirt. “I’m just nervous.”
“You should count yourself lucky that I’m not getting you taken away from the building by security.” Once again the man removes Lewis’ hand.
“Listen man. I’m just nervous. I’ve never been the top pick before.” Lewis manages to state before the man begins laughing wildly.
“You—you think….just Wow.” The man shakes his head and pats Lewis on the shoulder. “Good luck, you delirious bastard.”
Once again we are taken to a podium. A man with another envelope walks towards it and is met by a chorus of Boos. He plays to the crowd for a moment before clearing his throat. “With the First pick in the 2023 NFL Draft the Carolina Panthers Select.”
Lewis stops and listens. “What is it with these old whites and their dramatic pauses?”
“From the University of Alabama, Quarterback, Bryce Young.” The fans began to cheer. However if you listened closely to the television broadcast you could make out Lewis’ reaction.
“FUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKK!”
A reverse explosion. It’s not really, it’s the same transition just played in reverse.
Narrator:
That guy was..
“Now hold on a second. I need to talk about the small child.”
Narrator:
Do you mean?
“Yes. Bryce Young. That guy comes up to my belly button. At least I could see over an offensive line. They chose that kid over me. Like in what universe does that make sense. Hell they are still projected to be one of the worst teams in the NFL. I COULD’VE DONE THAT!”
Narrator:
Well first off he actually plays the sport. And well I don’t think I need any more evidence.
“Fair enough. I’m sure that guy was some higher up with the Panthers.”
Narrator:
Actually, no. Bears.
“Whatever.”
Lewis once again walks down the hall and stops again at a door with another crudely written ‘plaque’. This one has ‘TLS’ scribbled on it.
“Hold on. Are all of these fucks stealing my bit? Just like all the old heads with their dramatic pauses and now this guy and PICK with three letters acronyms. I do it as a marketing thing, these two are just lazy. The Lost Soul, it ain’t that hard man and PIC seems like something a tween would say as shorthand for ‘Ew look at my hair in this PIC. It’s so gross’ and what’s even better is it fits. Both of your haircuts suck.”
Narrator:
Again I need to stress. Maybe don’t attack the decision makers.
“Why not?”
Narrator:
Well as we’ve seen before it doesn’t work out well for you.
“Well what about the time I was actually nice to the guy?”
Narrator:
Please don’t make us….
Before the Narrator could finish we dive into our next transition. This time star swipe. Left to right.
July 17, 2022
Xbox Plaza
Los Angeles, California
After his misfortune at the NBA draft and we’ll before the NFL draft, Lewis finds himself outside of a building. People are coming and going. Lewis has his eyes set for one man, and sure enough his target comes walking towards him.
“There’s my guy!” Lewis extends his hand and greets him with a smile. “I can’t wait to be part of your organization. I’m really looking forward to getting to work and helping you all become the best!”
“Do I know you?” The man say’s quizzically.
“Of course you do.” Lewis strikes a pose. “You’ve seen this face before. I’m just amped up ready to go. I’ve had like five Red Bulls and two adderalls.”
“Clearly.” The man looks Lewis up and down. “So you’re looking for a job?”
“You could say that.” Lewis nods. The man then pulls out a stack of papers and hands them to Lewis.
“Hold onto these and pass them out to people as they walk by.” The man turns to walk away.
“You got it! Anything to be a top pick for you guys.” Lewis happily accepts the proposal. “Just remember the name LEWIS CHAD PINKSTON when you get to that podium!”
After several minutes of Lewis passing out the flyers, some people are gathered around a television. Once more Lewis’ hopes are on the line.
There were no fans to boo this gentleman, instead he simply smiled at the camera. “With the first pick in the 2022 MLB Draft, the Baltimore Orioles select…”
“ENOUGH WITH THE PAUSES!” Lewis bellowed at the screen.
“Jackson Holliday.”
Outside Lewis tosses the papers in the air. “This is some bullshit ass nepotism at its finest!”
Our final transition back to the hallway.
Lewis is now in front of seemingly the final door. A hastily scribbled ‘M. Welch’s’ is written on the paper.
Narrator:
I think you spelled his name wrong.
“What? No. It’s like the jelly. I remember.”
Narrator:
Pretty sure you’re wrong, but it’s your future.
“You’re right. It is MY future. The Triad is my future. The inevitable sight of LCP holding the Triad high above my head is what is not only right, but fitting. This is going right to the big MW himself. If it isn’t obvious who should go first then I don’t know what you’re looking for. I have it all. The full package. Looks, smarts and a big di—-”
Narrator:
Wrestling skill?
“Shut it! That’s coming along. All draft prospects are works in progress. This isn’t a warning. It isn’t even a threat. It’s a promise. Whoever doesn’t draft me, I’m going to make their lives a living hell. Inside the trials and out. Don’t be a dummy like the Magic, Panthers and Orioles. There’s only one right choice in all of this.”
“L.”
(Dramatic pause)
“C.”
(Seriously?)
“P.”
Narrator:
I thought you didn’t like the dramatic pauses?
“Turns out… They are Super.”
(Oh come on!)
“Fun.”
Fade