I know everyone is feeling glum now due to Kobe Bryant’s untimely passing and want answers. But before I provide the answer to why this tragedy occurred, I wanted to tell you a little story.
I was first introduced to the name, the mention of the person, when one of my angels tossed a donut into my Starbux and yelled “Kobe!”
Coffee splashed my beard and I was quite miffed, so, I asked, “What do you mean by the term Kobe?”
The angel replied, “It’s a name. Hoops! He’s a B-baller. Lakers. Money shot! I was just referencing my superior donut-shooting skills. Like Kobe shooting a basketball.”
“OK, I get it!” I replied, tearing off the angel’s wings, then tossing it into the Atlantic Ocean. “Kobe!”
Perfect splash. Now I finally understood the reference.
A few years later I caught a few Catholic Priests yelling “Kobe!” over and over as they crumbled up a stack of sexual abuse complaints from parents of altars boys and shot them into the trash can.
It was then that I realized how powerful this basketball player really was. His name was mentioned everywhere.
Some bum in the Bronx, ass hovering over an overpass, crapping into a trash can beneath, grunting “Kobe!”
A bartender tossing an olive into a martini. “Kobe!”
Three men playing lawn darts with a dildo and a dead hooker. “Kobe!”
When Kobe’s name gets mentioned more frequently than mine, there needs to be a reckoning.
So, yes, I grabbed the helicopter in mid-flight and shot it onto a runway, okay? As my voice boomed “Kobe!” I only meant to send a message. But it turns out that I’m not the best shooter at my age. So, yeah, I admit it: I kind of bricked it off a hillside. My bad!
I will confess: this was not my finest hour!
Worse yet: now I hear his name even more. On the news, in gymnasiums throughout the world, in rape case depositions, and in so many of those slow-motion internet videos where teenage girls throw hot dogs into the air and try to catch them with their tonsils.
I’m seriously considering flooding the whole damn world again.
Patrick Kill is a happy nihilist who specializes in writing the most absurd, iconoclastic humorous dark fiction around. At 6’1’’, he is the tallest midget on earth. He is a competitive eater…of children. He prefers footie pajamas with someone else’s feet in them. He fishes for dead bodies in drainage ditches during the day and traps for yeti at night. He is the most ridiculous man in the world. His favorite saying is: “I don’t always eat humans, but when I do, it’s dos Mexicanos. Stay evil, my friends.”