(Alarm clock goes off. Chris Bosh slowly rolls over and shuts it off)

Bosh: Damn. Noon already?

(Bosh rubs his eyes, slowly gets out of bed and lethargically makes his way to the bathroom. He puts toothpaste on his toothbrush, and looks into the mirror)

Bosh: Aw, hell no.


(Kevin Garnett’s image reflects back at him in the mirror)

Garnett: Aw, hell YES, young’un! What, you think that just because the game is over, I’m not in your head? If you do, better double-check that alarm clock, son, because you’re still dreaming.

(Bosh shakes his head and begins brushing his teeth)

Garnett: That’s how you brush? You’re all over the place, boy! You ain’t got no control! You’ve got to to start from the gumline and push out on each tooth! How long have you been brushing your teeth for anyway? This ain’t college. Brush like a pro!


(Thirty minutes later. Bosh lies on the couch watching Seinfeld)

Jerry: What are you saying?

Elaine: I’m not saying anything.

Jerry: You’re saying something.

Elaine: What could I be saying?

Jerry: Well, you’re not saying nothing, so you must be saying something.

Elaine: If I were saying something, I would have said it.

Jerry: So why don’t you say it?

(Suddenly, Elaine’s head morphs into Kevin Garnett’s)

Garnelaine: Alright, Jerry Seinfeld, I’ll say it! You’re a straight-up punk, Chris Bosh! You hearing me? Why don’t you take another fade-away jumper, because you know you don’t want to take it to the hole against old “Power” and “Glory” here! You know who they are?

Bosh: (sighs)

Garnelaine: Those are my elbows, jack! That’s right, I named ’em! And after this year, I’m going to wear a championship ring on each of ’em, and there ain’t a damn thing you can do about it! Isn’t that right, Jerry Seinfeld?

Jerry: He’s right, Chris. The Raptors aren’t going anywhere. And speaking of which, what is the deal with calling a team the ‘Raptors’?

Garnelaine: HA HA HA! Jerry Seinfeld, you crack me up!

(Thirty minutes later. Bosh is at the drive-thru order box at Tim Horton’s)

Bosh: …give me a large coffee with milk, and a twelve-grain bagel with tomatoes and cheddar cheese.

Order Box: Please drive up.

(Bosh drives up to window)

Bosh: Ah, shoot. (to window) Excuse me, I forgot to say I wanted the bagel toasted. Is it too late?

(Teenager at window turns around. His face morphs into Kevin Garnett’s)

Gar-hair-net: Oh, it’s about five years past too late for you, Chris Bosh! I’ve owned you since you stepped foot in this league! You know what this bagel looks like to me? It looks like a big ol’ ‘zero’! Which is exactly what your stat line is going to look like next time we…(to supervisor) Huh? Hold on, I’ll check. (to Bosh) Did you say you wanted sugar in that coffee?

Bosh: Naw man, just milk.

Gar-hair-net: Alright, $2.80.

(Bosh digs in his pocket for change)

Gar-hair-net: Yeah, you hand me that change like you hand the ball off in crunch time, string bean.

(Bosh hands him money)

Gar-hair-net: And twenty cents is your change. Be careful with that coffee now, it’s hot.

Bosh: Thanks.

Gar-hair-net: No problem. See you at home.

(Bosh drives off)

Gar-hair-net: (screaming after Bosh) Now there’s a familiar sight – you driving away from Kevin Maurice Garnett! YOU DON’T HAVE…whoops. (into headset) Welcome to Tim Horton’s, can I take your order? 


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