| Knowmercy |
03-01-2018 05:38 PM |
playing a pickup game of basketball on the playground after team practice, one of the kids has downs syndrome. we are all civilized gentleman, its 2018, u gotta let him participate. why not.
he fucks everything up, breaks all the rules, double dribbles, fouls constantly, drools on everbody, with incoherent excited moaning. hes never done this before. god bless his gentle heart, poor soul.
during the awkward and bizarre pickup game, you accidentally bump him with just enough force to knock him to the ground. he slams the ground with a deafening autistic screech, twitches violently for a moment, then is completely still.
then all is quiet... you could hear a pin drop. you could cut the silence with a knife. in agonizing slow motion, you gaze up from the kid - all eyes are on you, piercing your very soul through the window of your dumbfounded look. the faces are a confused, intense cacophony of extreme rage, sorrow, and utter shock.
after what feels like an eternity, the soccer mom mother of the child, who knows nothing about basketball, stands up abruptly and begins the fiercest, most estrogen charged mamma bear social justice tongue lashing youve ever heard. everyones mouths fall agape. she charges towards you, red faced, hot and bothered screaming. the basketball coach/cuckold husband tries to restrain her gently and grabs her upper arm. big. mistake. you see her slap the taste of his mouse, shouting incoherently into his faces he apologizes profusely, and submissively. as the spectical is momentary shifted away from you, you take this opportunity to slink away.
later that afternoon your approached by the coach.
"hey man, i know this wasnt practice... but we feels its best you to take a month off to let this blow over"
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