Two weeks ago I sent out a mass telegram to the leaders of this community informing them that my captain and assistant coach, FrizzleFry, would be stepping down from his post, abandoning his HQ, and returning home to Bricktown, where he would once more be on hand to comfort me after I accidentally drank too much water in the shower again. 

This is NO LONGER TRUE. 

In a stunning reversal of his own request to come home, FrizzleFry is now refusing to disband and instead lurking around his empty HQ like some ghoulish Regency Era widow in the cursed mansion where her husbands body decomposes in the living room. As a former JFMAST man, he is stubborn, strong-willed and as strong as an ox. We simply cannot get him out of there. 

A part of why this troubles me so much is that I miss him. I wish it were Grin-22 locked in that giant mansion, where I could forget about him and never see his face again. We would just rope off the area with some police tape and leave him there forever. It would be like what they do to nuclear exclusion zones, except at the heart of it would not be a damaged reactor core but a little mandrill-faced goblin boy I've mugged so many times you can hear them sloshing around in his skull like half a cup of soup.

Now, when I look upon that dark house on the hill and see Frizzle's weather-beaten scowl leering out of the single lit window, I feel only sadness. 

If Frizzle does not step down in the next TEN DAYS, I will be declaring him a rogue and sending him to the great gymnasium in the sky. This is your final warning, friend. Come home. If it comes down to it, I will not hesitate. I would simply imagine it were Hobbs and it will come easy enough. Don't test me, Frizzle. You know I hate tests. That's a school thing. Don't force me into nerdery, son. 

Hobbs frowned at Headcoach. He was disgusted with the man, and not just because there were substantial spaghetti and coffee stains down his front and sweat stained yellow armpits. Hobbs held up his finger and wagged it like the single lady he was.

"Coach, let's be real here. On several occasions my good friend FrizzleFry made it clear he was done with the business of running a Mafia Basketball team. He was done with Mafia Basketball in general. At the time I stood in this very streets offering my support and a safe haven and instead you and yours held him prisoner in a special little basement room where you fed him nought but raw fish and cabbage. You are to blame for this entire situation."

Hobbs sighed and turned to face an imaginary camera to appeal directly.

Frizzle, if you see this please know once again you can leave a ball free existence in Summerlin. Abandon Detroit. Choose love. Choose life."

So another once loyal sidekick leaves HeadCoach to flounder around in a pool of his own piss, gulping and flapping in equal measure, like a particularly fat and ugly toddler at their first swimming lesson. As undignified and unsurprising as ever. And for the record, I'd love to be in a big mansion by myself away from these borderline nerds I'm stuck with as teammates. I'm pretty sure I saw LadyBananaFace reading a book yesterday, for pleasure. Your eye is off the ball, Coach. I remember the glory days when Mafia Basketball actually meant doing more than just watching film. You never knew which allied pro wacker was going to snuff it next. Now look at us, Henson's running laps with Sunrise around Idiot Park for God's sake. How about organizing a game, eh Coach? Did you ever think of taking this show on the road or did that type of original thinking get trapped in your arteries like everything else?

I'm so sick of this shit. I'd rather head to Sosabowski's house for a gourmet 3 course meal of creme fraiche de la canette than little to any more of this. 

Frizzle, don't come back here. I mean, obviously don't join Hobbs and the rest of the last-picked, participation award winners in Summerlin either, but seriously, somewhere else. You would be fucking horrified at what goes on here. Jul 12th 11:39. That's all I've got to say. 

LISTEN UP.

BaronGreenback is dead. That is not surprising but sets an ominous tone here. This isn't a writing contest, I don't want anyone to die. All I want is for FrizzleFry to come home, something which he currently refuses to do. In light of his holdout, I am open for trade negotiations.

In order to end the stand off, I'm putting this formal offer out to twigs:

JFMAST SENDS:

- FrizzleFry

- Grin-22

- BrickCityKing

- Our 1st rd draft priority for the week of Jul 18-24 on job board associates.

 

JFMAST RECEIVES:

- Void

- Future considerations

It's a pretty good deal. I'd take it if I were you. Alternatively, I would be open to sending Grin-22 to Hobbs in Summerlin, where they are free to use him as target practice, like he did with my poor deceased bodyguard JaysonTatum yesterday, on Jul 12th at 11:39.

I don't currently have a specific rule forbidding my team from shooting my own bodyguards - so, in a way, my hands are tied here - but that does not make it a team-building exercise, which is something we try to instill in every facet of our daily schedules. He is on the trade block. 

Void had listened to the sad account of FrizzleFry's lurking in the cursed mansion formerly known as the Detroit Dribbler's HQ. Many times had Void walked past it during his visits in Detroit, often seeing Frizzliette stare forlorn and longingly into the distance waiting for his Romeo to appear. One time Void even heard him sign 'Oh Headcoach... where art thou...?'.

"Coach though your city is not exactly known for its literacy and prefers to stick to sports, I think we can both see the resemblence of this scene to one of a certain generally-known tragedy. If you ask me, the only way for you to get Frizzle out of that abandoned building is for you to serenade him, preferably with a harp. I'm sure that if you do so, he will be quick to follow you out of there and this will finally put the ghosts of The Detroit Dribblers to rest."

Hearing Grin-22's lamentations Void couldn't help but be curious what was referenced to with the ominous timestamp that was dropped... "Now Grin-22, coach mentioned that you may or may not have played pin the tail on the donkey with one of his henchmen. The way you speak of that morning however makes me think that that's not all there is to this story. Are you willing to elaborate on what horrifying events may or may not have happened afterwards or will we have to read all about it in the next edition of The Herald of The Underworld?"

Eventually HeadCoach was seen initiating formal negotiations with his boss, esteemed Godfather-Chairman big twigs himself. Void got a tad nervous when he noticed he was being bartered for like somekind of mascott or pet. Ok, so technically his sleeping quarters are a cage in the basement of The Forest HQ but that was besides the point.

"Now first of all I of course cannot speak for the big boss himself. I cannot influence the negotiations, that is something between you and twigs, an order from the boss would be an order after all, I just wish to air my thoughts. The Forest may appear to be all fun-and-games from a distance but it's serious business deep down, I'm pretty sure I signed my soul away to The Strip in a contract written in blood somewhere along the way when I graduated from wise-guy'dom. Besides, Detroit would have no use for an unathletic noodly-armed non-analphabetic nerd like me, clearly I am unfit to stand in the basketball court, shooting hoops is way out of my league."

"But I am getting ahead of myself, I must await the reply to this formal offer first."

"One last thing. Headcoach I am almost convinced this might be a plot to get your mitts on that VERY EMBERASSING picture of you with a certain orange vitamin-C rich piece of fruit that I may or may not have in my possession."

"I will defend my friend Void here. He may be a snivelling peace loving pervert... but he's my snivelling peace loving pervert. Grin-22 is not worth half of what my greatest friend Void is worth.. "

Hobbs paused allowing dramatic tension to build.

"That's why I'm proposing we guillotine Void in half as part of the trade. Do you want the top half or the bottom half, or would you say we cut him down the middle. With twigs permission of course I'd never dream of going against my Godfather Chairman friend."

As much as I would welcome the opportunity to leave HeadCoach and his ailing bodyguards, (heh, wonder what happened there) and I have 1.8m lottery tickets to justify feeling that way, the last thing I want is to be traded to Lady Hobbsersham and eat mouldy wedding cake, while he pines over former glories (Daiquiri) in the dark. Send me anywhere else.

Everybody shut up, it's my turn to speak again.

As of now, FrizzleFry has still not abandoned his lonely countryside mansion. The electricity and water have been turned off, so he is likely stewing in his own filth and beginning to eat bugs. There's a lot of protein in bugs. I don't expect his muscle mass to diminish significantly, which means that it will remain impossible to physically remove him from the property. 

Trade negotiations continue.

Grin-22 has nixed a possible move to Hobbs but our pending deal with twigs remains on the table. I am disappointed but understand his decision. While the manner in which Hobbs so flippantly suggested we Lady & The Tramp Void like the last noodle of spaghetti has raised him in my esteem, it would be a lose-lose situation unless over the coming days science progresses to the extent we can use whatever part of him we get as gym equipment without them drying out like jerky. I'm not totally against it. Void has uncovered dark secrets which I do not want being released to the public.

In the mean time, I would like to propose another potential deal.

JFMAST SENDS:

- FrizzleFry

- Grin-22

- CallMeDaddy

- BrickCityKing

- LadyBananaFace

- Future considerations

 

JFMAST RECEIVES:

- Illuminatiated

I hope the four other Chicago crewleaders can get together and come to a decision on this swiftly.  We do not have time to waste.

Headcoach had sent twigs a mid-season player exchange offer, and an enticing one at that. Void was an extremely valuable asset, and twigs was unsure whether he would be used to his full potential outside The Forest, but the generous offer still mandated some serious consideration.

"Coach, thank you for approaching me with this deal. I'm slightly surprised that you would make the terms so public, but I dare not question your negotiation tactics. 

I don't think we can move forward with this exchange as it stands. FrizzleFry is a legend, sure, but he hasn't made any appearances as of late. I can't help but think that you're pulling a fast one of me. I assume BrickCityKing is a new upcoming talent, but I've yet to see much from him. Grin-22 is a major negotiating chip, but I don't think he surpasses Void alone. Additionally, my roster is currently full, so I'm unable to accept multiple players in exchange for one.

I propose a counter-offer. You can have Hobbs, free of charge. What do you say?"

twigs, after much deliberation and a long night of soul-searching and mouth-stuffing, I've decided to accept your offer. It wasn't an easy decision but I believe it will prove to be the right one. They say that nothing in life comes free and I don't believe Hobbs will either - after his mandatory 2-month quarantine, it will take further months of rehabilitation, muggings, beatings, shellackings, and posterizing to weed out the learnings trapped in his brain, where valuable mafia basketball information needs room for boarding. I'm ready to begin the process.

Can I make a mafia basketballer out of him? I think so. We have been deliberating a hard pivot in our strategy - potentially to mafia pirates or mafia vampires - but that remains talk for the boardroom, not the locker room. 

And tough luck, Void. I guess you'll have to stick to the tourist lines at the 12th Street toilets like the rest of the out-of-towners. 

Hobbs was taken back by Headcoach's sudden acceptance. He was sure the trade would be rejected, instead Headcoach spoke beautifully about how great Hobbs was and how due to how magnificent a specimen he was how long it would take to mould him into a Mafia basketball star.

He took the offered box and opened up a Detroit jersey which he regretfully put on. He couldn't deny that he liked the silky smooth feeling on his smooth nipple less body. Already he could feel the rage and hormones flooding through his body. He wanted to elbow someone in the head, murder an allied bodyguard or start another fire. He felt his vision sharpen and the need for glasses disappear. Were his arms growing? HIS LEGS? Hobbs felt alive.

Next he opened up an official looking invitation:

Was this it? Was this the moment Hobbs said goodbye to Las Vegas and embraced the Mafia Basketball lifestyle? He looked one last time at Chess Triwizard champion twigs in his robe and hat for a sign of what to do next. Of his King Giorgio-Esposito there was no sign. Hobbs had been abandoned.

Hobbs, have you ever heard the story of Weezer The Wise? It's not a story Las Vegas would tell you. It's a Detroit legend. Weezer was a pro wacker during the war. They say he was so powerful, his gun would give life & protection to his targets, instead of death. He could keep the ones he cared about from dying. A young Goomba named Gazza considered this...unnatural. You see, he too began as a prowacker. By watching Weezer, he learned everything he could. And then he killed Weezer. Ironic...he could save others from death but not himself. 

We can make you powerful in Detroit, Hobbs.

Come to us. 

Come to the dark-  I mean, Bricktown. 

My prince, such an invitation could be temping to one, but above all else, you are stronger. These brutes, these charlatans, these wannabe basketball players in Detroit, they're not even good at basketball. I saw them play a youth team once from a highschool from philadelphia and they lost. Handily

Is that what you'd want to consider? Being a loser? Getting beat by children that've barely been through puberty? I certainly wouldn't want such a reputation. Just think of the people on your team too. 

Back to the topic on hand, my nephew Frizzle is a great man who I miss dearly. His illness is a family one that has been ailing me for some time as well. Luckily I never got it as bad..

Also, Bricktown smells like a gym where, when you first walk in, has a shitty smell because half the people there don't shower at all. Just a disgusting, musty smell of stink and some testosterone 

"You can't take Illuminiated, how will I get my hor-" Bob caughs, "Beef for my resturant, which is located in phillidelphia and Chicago," Bob pauses and whispers, "100% beef"

It was with great tension in his soul that Void had continued to listen to the proceeding negotiations between both sides during this pivotal point in history. When he heard the suggestion of being split in two Void frowned at Hobbs. Void was glad to hear that HeadCoach rejected that particular suggestion.

"I am relieved to hear that I have been removed from the bartering bill now. There was a slight worry in me that my future was to be spent as a ball-boy for the JFMAST, a spotter in Mike's gym or worse of all, to be shipped off to the lands beyond for being in posession of some unspeakable secret that I am not at liberty to share. Now that twigs has confirmed that I will be staying in Vegas I can rest at ease again."

When Void heard the counteroffer quickly afterwards however, his jaw dropped. His sometimes enemy, sometimes friend, sometimes rival, often assailant, sometimes chess-opponent was offered to be shipped off to Mug City free of charge. What came afterwards shocked Void perhaps even more, Hobbs put on the jersey thrown his way by Headcoach without any hestitation whatsoever and had already begun his transformation into a basketball babboon.

"Hobbs! Come to your senses! Have you forgotten all the times that you've lit my ass on fire (sometimes figuratively, sometimes ALLEGEDLY literally) for even DARING to converse with the athletes of Detroit? All that raving about how I'm a 'sympathiser'? And now you just put on the jersey without any reluctance whatsoever! What does this mean Hobbs? WHY? HOW COULD YOU?"

Void walked up to twigs to make a final appeal. He got close so nobody else would hear and talked to him in a hushed tone "Look boss, I don't wish to speak out of line here and your word is final, always, so see this as nothing more than a humble request but please, PLEASE, for the love of Lady Luck reconsider this!"