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P&T Knicktion Submission #7: "A Carmelo Carol"

About a month ago, I opened a contest in which P&T friends could submit works of Knicktion to be read, judged, and voted upon by the P&T community. The submissions are in and will be posted daily (sometimes twice daily) for your pleasure. Voting and prizes and stuff will take place once all the entries have been posted. By request, I won't reveal the identities of our submitters until the end (or whenever the authors feel it is appropriate). Well, except for our first submission. Sorry, YuckFou.

A few notes on the pool of submissions as a whole: Some are long, some are short. Some are prose, some are poetry, some are floetry. All were acceptable. None of the submissions have been in any way edited by me (although I'll probably have to play with some formatting), but in some instances, I sent the submission back to its composer for a bit of proofreading. No matter what, please be respectful in the comments. But you knew that.

Previously: "Twas The Night of the Big Game", "When Crazy Cocks Attack", "Summer Whine", "The Mellow Man", "Knick Potion No. 11", "Weekend at Barney's".

Take the jump for submission #7.

A Carmelo Carol: A Posting and Toasting Play in Five Acts


Carmelo Anthony, newest New York Knick superstar and veritable bowtie fan, is in a phunk, which is like any standard, run-of-the-mill funk, but heavier (and with more "p"). He is napping near a mahogany-bordered fireplace, somberly holding a highball of warm Gatorade (stay hydrated). Melo managed to nod off while contemplating his future as arguably the most important player on the most recognizable team in the most prominent city in the world. The lights are dim. Suddenly, there is a rap-rap-rapping, followed by a tap-tap-tapping at his chamber door. Carmelo is awakened and startled.

CARMELO: What was that! It awakened me! How startling!

He rises and crosses the room to answer the door. 

CARMELO: (Opening the door) Hello? J.R., that better not be you, when I said I couldn't be on your kickball team anymore I MEANT it, dammit. (The hallway is empty.) Hm. No one there.  I really have to stop hanging out with Humpty before naptime.

He shuts the door and returns to his cozy-ass chair. Before long, there is more noise.

CARMELO:  I swear to God J.R., if that's you...

Hallway is once again empty.

CARMELO: Whoa. Spooky.  (Shuts the door) I could have sworn that I heard a rap-rap-rapping and a tap-tap-tapping on this chamber doo...

He is interrupted by, you guessed it, a rap-rap-tapping at his door.

CARMELO:  Holy Clyde! There it is again! 

Before he can react, the door is thrown open and Toney Douglas walks in, wearing a spooky sheet and what appear to be taped-on fairy wings.

TD: Woooooooooooooo! Carrrmelloooooooo! (He throws a handful of glitter in Melo's face)

CARMELO: Pfffffhththtt! What the hell, Toney! What are you doing here? Humpty didn't get you to try his homemade goofballz again, did he?

TD: (Spookily. Like, really spookily) I am not this Toney you speak of! I am the ghost of Knicksmas present! I'm here to show you what you're now apart of! The history and importance of the Knickerbockers! Ooooooohhh!

CARMELO: Awhh, cut it out, Toney. You're not even that spooky.

TD: (Spookily) Boo!

CARMELO: See, told you.

Toney thwaps Carmelo in the head with his "Spooky Scepter," which looks suspiciously like his mother's Swiffer handle, also covered in a spooky sheet.

CARMELO: Ouch! Shit, fine! You're spooky, you're spooky!

TD: That's more like it. Now come on, I've got cool shit to show you.

CARMELO: Awhhhh, here it goes.



Curtain rises to reveal Toney Douglas (ahem, the Ghost of Knicksmas Present) leading Carmelo into a funky locker-room. Bellbottoms are abundant and disco is playing softly in the background. It looks a hell of a lot like the 70s.

Enter Toney and Carmelo.

CARMELO: This looks a hell of a lot like the 70s.

TD: That's because it IS the 70s, you big dummy! Now do what Toney Douglas do and follow me!

The pair turns a corner and Carmelo runs smack into an intensely mutton-chopped figure. Both stumble backwards, and Melo quickly realizes who this fellow is.

 CARMELO: Whoa! Holy Clyde, it's...Clyde!

CLYDE: Watch it where you're walking and stalking!  

TD: (Again, quite spookily) Melllllllllloooo! Meet Knick royalty! This is Walt Frazier, and these are his sideburns!

CLYDE: Pleased to meet and greet you, young neophyte.

CARMELO: Clyde! Don't you recognize me? It's Carmelo! I wave at you every time I pass the broadcast table during a game! Like, EVERY time! We even had lunch at Chuck-E-Cheese together! Don't you remember, I dominated you at skee-ball!

Toney thwaps the young neophyte in the back of the head with his Spooky Scepter.

TD: You big dummy! Don't you understand that he hasn't met you yet? We're time traveling, remember? Clyde hasn't even won his championships yet!

CLYDE: Whoa there, Mister Spooky Ghost! Did you say championships?

TD: Indeed I did! Carmelo, Clyde here is on the verge of becoming one of the most beloved and worshiped Knicks of all time! Do you know how he accomplished this?



TD: NO! Well, I guess, but only sorta. He will accomplish this by leading the team and the city to two championship victories! The absolute pinnacle of basketball supremacy! He and his teammates are now Knicks legends!

CARMELO: (Ponderously) Wow, you're right. That sounds pretty neat, I think. To be a Knick legend.

TD: You bet your multi-million dollar behind that it does! Come! We have more to see and only a short time to see it!

CARMELO: Dag. Alright, but I don't care if it's your moped or not, this time I'm not putting my arms around you!




Curtain rises to a dark, empty gym. The sound of bouncing balls (heh) reverberates through the cavernous room. Toney actually looks a bit like a ghost in this lighting, but don't tell him that. We don't want his head to get too big.

Enter Toney and Carmelo.

CARMELO: Dag, Toney. Where are we? I can't see a thi...

Just then, a barrage of balls (heh) flies through the darkness and land, bouncing within inches of Carmelo and Toney. Once again, Carmelo is startled.

Also coming out of the darkness is the lanky, fundamentally goofy silhouette of the one, the only, Danilo Gallinari followed by the sultry gait of Wilson Chandler.

CARMELO: Hey! Guys! I didn't know you two were hitting the gym today! ...Guys?

TD: (only slightly spookily this time) They can't hear you, Carmelo. They might as well be all the way in...Denver, for an extremely pertinent example.

Gallo and Wilson continue to practice in the hazy background; Gallo drains shot after shot and Wilson does a little bit of everything, as is his style.

CARMELO: Damn, they look...incredible! Fantastic! Fantastible!

TD: These are the players that had to goooooooooo because of you, Carmelllllooooooo! They could have been great in New York, but now we'll never knooooowwwwwwww...


TD: Feeling the pressure yet, my head-banded compadre?

Carmelo is silent. His head down in deep contemplation, he mulls over just exactly what he needs to achieve, what his expectations are as the next big banana in Madison Square Garden. The magnitude of the situation is beginning to sink in. He raises his head to speak...

And is promptly boinked in the face with a loose Cock three point ball (heh).



Curtain rises on Toney and Carmelo, riding together on Toney's moped. Carmelo is riding in back. They are scooting along next to what seems to a parade route down Manhattan, with millions of tiny bits of blue and orange confetti raining down from the steel and glass canyon walls towering over the street. Carmelo is wearing a silly helmet.

CARMELO: But I don't even NEEEED a helmet! We're only going ten miles per hour!


TD: Listen now! I'm going to need for you to pay attention for this. Loooooooook up ahheaaaaadddd. See those two in the platinum-plated convertible?

Carmelo stares, trying to pick out the two that "Ghost" Toney is referring to. He can almost make them out, before the shorter figure turns around, waving to the crowd. Carmelo is, for yet another time, quite startled.

CARMELO: But...but...but...THAT'S ME.

In the car ahead, Future Carmelo is sitting proudly next to Future Amar'e Stoudemire.  Amar'e is wielding...the Larry O'Brien trophy.

TD: (At his spookiest!) This is what your future could hooollllldddd, Carmelo! Do you see what you can achieve in the Orange and Blooooooooooo?! You can become King of the City, if only you can net the Knicks a championship!

Carmelo looks up again, only to see Future Carmelo being, sure enough, crowned King of New York City. With a crown and everything. Really.

Suddenly, a rather heavy chuck of confetti falls and knocks Melo on the head. He's knocked out, because it was a really, really heavy piece of confetti. Just go with it.



Curtain rises, and we're back in Carmelo's fancy study. The fire is long-burned out, and the first traces of daylight are peeking through his curtains.

CARMELO: Holy Clyde! What happened? Was that...all...a dream?

He looks around for a clue, anything that could verify the wacky journey with "Ghost" Toney Douglas. Nothing. Carmelo slumps back into his cozy-ass chair, and mulls over the events of his dream...meeting young Clyde, getting hit with Gallo's balls (heh), the parade, everything.

There is a rap-rap-rapping at his door.

CARMELO: (hastily opening door) Toney?!

J.R. SMITH: (holding a kickball) Hey Melo, wanna play some kick-