It has become apparent that this greedy, despicable, numbnut boxing oil baron is becoming too big for his boots. 

For too long now, MikeTyson has walked these streets, beating on whatever poor soul he found trying to harmless pinch a few dollars for their next meal. Poor pathetic people, like Grin-22 and Hobbs. Well today, MikeTyson messed with the wrong guy. 

For whatever reason, Mike thought he could take money from Henson this morning. He managed to get away with a decent 5 figure sum. 

Little did this enormous meathead know, he had reached in to the wrong pockets this time. Henson - the finely tuned athlete, burst in to action and launched a pursuit of Mike. It didn't take long to catch up with the belligerent bully. Not enough cardio Mike. 

Henson swiftly booted Mike's legs from underneath him, landing him face first on the concrete. He pulled him to his feet and unleashed the biggest beating these here streets have seen for millennia. His nose pushed back in to his head, where his brain should be. One ear hanging off, how ironic. His eye cut, his lip bleeding. Teeth showered the pavement like used condom packets in the room that Arthur and Sunrise now share. Some say a slight improvement was made, although Henson noticed Mike now talking with a lisp.

"Let this be a lesson to you Mike".

Finally gettin' his first taste of a hit of the tea of the midwestern manor't muggin'z he had heard so much about. The yung gunbrigadier sleuth always scoopin' for the scoop found hisself a stoop. He'd heard many things about the one and only Tython's. He heard Tython could throw hand cannoneth with the beth of them. A consigliere flexin' on the Don, but yet they seem to not take it personal. The ebb n' flo' of this business of ours. A beautiful moment captured in the space time continuum transfunctionuh. He could only giddy up with glee on some more of the giggle tea with a hint of nicotine as the stooped sleuth sloth't his way around inner sounds.

iSup also heard Tython's hath the beth chi'kin and chit'linz. 

Since HeadCoach is missing presumed dead and FrizzleFry is isolating presumed unhygienic in the Dribbler Dome, it falls to me as JFMAST's longest serving yet not selected ball player to become the de facto HeadCoach (DHC) of Detroit. 

In my new position as the DHC of DT, I fully endorse this message and would strongly encourage further beatings are meted out to MikeTyson wherever and as often as possible. For too long he's hidden his latent nerdiness behind an amusing lisp, which HeadCoach (RIP) was much too stupid (and fat) to see through. Henson, although a notorious bottom feeder himself and a johnny-come-lately to the Mafia Basketball scene, has clearly been paying attention to my laundry room bulletins. Well done, Henson. You've leapfrogged disband-pending BBB in the DT Power Rankings. Arthur, naturally, remains unranked. And ugly. 

"Firstly, I'd like to offer my respectful condolences. HeadCoach was, in all respects, a great man. His presence will be missed, if only because his heirs will find it difficult to adjust in the sudden changes to spacetime. It's difficult to see how this great void will (or can) be filled. Secondly, I'd like to extend my congratulations to Grin-22 for his 'promotion' to de facto HeadCoach, although speaking in my capacity as Supreme Director and General Secretary of READ, I worry for the future of Detroit's many bodyguards. Finally, although I am in no way opposed to MikeTyson being pummelled, beaten and generally abused, I must humbly request that you refrain from turning what remains of his body into wallpaper paste. Although I'm sure the dilapidated HQs of Detroit could use a makeover, the man still needs to face me in the checkers arena."