Realistic Fiction
Every day, I would come to the basketball courts on 52nd street. Me and my pals, we would play a pickup with whoever wanted to play, or, at least most people. The ‘Cool Kids’, as we called them, never played with us and we never played with them. They were composed of the football jocks, homecoming kings, and many more. Their ringleader, Roger, was twice my height and he liked to torment me.
Today, I was walking to the court when I saw one of the two courts was taped off. It looked like they were replacing the tar on the court. I brushed it off, not worrying about only having one court until I saw them. Roger, leading the pack with his 100 dollar basketball spinning on top his pointer.
“Ah #@!” I muttered under my breath. There was only one court, but two groups that both wanted to play. Although I would get to the court first, we had almost no chance of staying on it, with us up against the kings of the court.
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Let’s get a game started before they,” I motioned to Roger and his group, “get here. We quickly divided up teams and were about to have the skins team take off their shirts for Shirts vs. Skins when…
“Hey yo. Midget Man. THis ain’t your court, so get off before I make you.” I knew this wasn’t going to end well, and I decided I could use my brains to beat their brawn.
“Roger, how you doing? HOw ‘bout we do first to 50, us versus you and winner takes the court?”
“Sure, we can take you and your seven dwarfs anytime. How bout this guys. This dwarf thinks he can beat us, fair and square. Lets go whack their @#! to the moon and