And now, for your enjoyment, Gilbert Noir:
It was a stormy night and my office in the ACME building was dark, except for the glow of the computer screen illuminating my face.
My name is Gilbert Noir, private eye.
[cue saxophone]
Before signing in, I noticed the schedule for the Salisbury Auerbachs had become my landing page for Buzzerbeater.
"Strange," I thought, but dismissed it.
I clicked into my roster page, expecting multiple bumps in shotblocking for my young trainees, but didn't see them.
"Strange," I thought, but again, dismissed it as a Beantown aberration.
That's when she knocked on my door.
She was a leggy brunette, the kind the fighter pilots used to hang in their lockers back at squadron HQ. The smoke from her cigarette curled from her lips like a Siamese cat. Man, did I want to be in that smoke.
She explained that she was missing some training, too, and wanted something to be done about it, and before the Thanksgiving weekend was over.
I said I'd take the case.
Just then, the phone rang. I answered it.
"Guy, I told you not to call me at work," I said. "I don't care what Mother says. You can start without me."
"My brother," I explained. "Wants me to come home for Thanksgiving. Let's see if we can solve your case in time."
"So, where was the last time you saw your training?" I asked.
"Two weeks ago, two pops in rebounding, but this week, just stamina pops," she answered.
"Better than a drop in stamina," I thought to myself before saying "And you're sure you didn't change to stamina training last week?"
She looked at me in a way I'll never forget. It's that look your mother gives you when you try to pull one over on her, not knowing she knew the truth even before you started telling your version.
"Guess not, " I said and scribbled into Notepad.
"Now let's see here...." I said as I navigated around Buzzerbeater. "Seems here's a clue. BB-Charles is actually in my league."
She drew her chair closer to see the monitor and I could smell her perfume. Eau de Spalding, I believe.
I showed her how my team also lost training that week, and so I could sympathize with her plight.
"I just sold off some trainees, and bought a new shooting guard," I told her. "At first, I thought it might be an effort by Charles to keep the Magic a step behind Walking Through This Door, but now, with your predicament, I guess I'm not the only one affected."
"Guess not," she said. "And I really need help in the rebound department. You see, I just broke up with my boyfriend."
"That, I can help you with," I smiled.
It was a dark and stormy night in Marietta....and the monitor wasn't the only thing turned on in my office on Church Street.
[cue saxohone]
Last edited by BB-Mark at 12/15/2008 6:58:39 PM