He’s got quick hands. Disciplined in the game. 5 for 5 for 3. You’ve got to answer those runs with Explosive Coyotes. Unafraid of the story. Unafraid of the moment. The man. The myth. That’s a mismatch, right there. Ball fake jumper. Off to a wicked start. They: explode in people’s pants: These Coyotes. Everyone drop your Leeks. Substitution. Substitution. Prostitution. Snuck it Right In there on the Backside! A Real Slickjob. And he’s not even nude. Or in prison. But he’s at the basket. Under it. Over it. In It! Loves climbing inside. Slides right through it. With his mind And his body. When interviewed, he says his tongue tastes the joy of Leeks: True Story. But he’s hyper-aware: buyers And sellers of sex can be equally charged. When he was a child, someone essential told him training was a 9-to-5 job. He took it to heart. His favorite numbers are 3, 5, And 9. With shots on top of shots. That’s how he earns it. He’s got a Sigil tattooed to one eye. That’s how he proves it. An unlimited visionary. He Loves to rent. They say he’s lost to the lease. A real trailblazer. A Jesus. Breaks down grease on top of water into wine with sweat. They say, the first corneal tattoo was scribed 1,900 years ago by a Roman doctor named Galen of Pergamon. He doesn’t believe it. That’s History, they say. That’s Shit! Says it was done in China. Longer ago. 2,500 Plus years ago. Emphasis on The Plus. When they play him on the court, they say he’s deadly poison swabs pressed under skin. First It Hurts. Then It Kills. Then It Hurts again. He’ll shoot from Anywhere. A straight-shooter. Also a wonderful driver. Gets it from his father, who was a wonderful driver back in his day. He says The Court and The Road have similar environmental conditions. Goes left, quick release. Honks horn. Turns right. Parks! He says, Hell, When A Chevy Is In Front Of You That Doesn’t Move Slick Like A Young Athlete’s Body, You Honk At It! You dunk on it! One man on top of the other. It gets physical when you Park In The Garage. It’s about dominance. He dunks buckets on them. Buckets And buckets. Of rain or wine. Sweat! Meanwhile, a Sigil is engraved on His Key. He wears the Key around his neck on a chain like a charm. It mirrors the sparkling ink charm in his eye. It’s against the rules to wear it: The Chain. He does it anyway. Someone might choke is why. He Doesn’t Care. Each night, the crowd roars, points fingers down at him like it wants to see someone die. In an interview he says, It’s Very Roman of Them. He’s talking about the crowd pointing fingers. He said the court is No Colosseum. It’s more of a Speedway. And when he is on the court, and fingers point down, he uses only his mind—One True Thought to block the holy BeJesus! out of them. Blocks the crowd’s fingers without committing a single foul. This is an ancient Chinese method. Something Taoist masters used while sparring. Sometimes he listens to the Tao Te Ching, the English Version, on Audible when he drives in his car with his Key. Other times, Wu-Tang, on Spotify, also with his Key in his car. He’s not Enlightened, but Truly Gifted. Something to do with These Coyotes. Something to do with how when he blocks the crowd’s fingers, his mind screams out loud And Things Start Exploding In People’s Pants!