“THE SUBLIME STATIC::::::::::: STATIC:::::::::: STATIC:::::::::: STATIC :::::::::: STATIC:::::::::: STATIC:::::::::: STATIC:::::::::: STATIC:::::::::: STATIC:::::::::: STATIC:::::::::: STATIC :::::::::: STATIC:::::::::: STATIC:::::::::: STATIC:::::::::: STATIC:::::::::: STATIC choked the Buster Bowl, choked it here on the LumeNex-floodlit polyurethaned blond wood floor of the court, choked it up up on and up the cliffs of seats, choked it all the way to the dome—choked it—but Jojo could hear eve...ry word the black giant, Jamal Perkins, said as Perkins and his 250 or so pounds bellied him from behind. “Yo, Token—yo’ white ass better hope the man don’t th’ow it to you, ’cause yo’ token white ass gon’ fuck up, Token! Yo’ fucking fingers made a china, and you shaking like a fucking cup, Token—” So Jojo backed his own 250 pounds even harder into Perkins’s midsection, all the while watching the orange ball, which was now the center of the world, as Dashorn, the point guard, was dribbling it way out beyond the three-point line, looking for an opening in the Cincinnati defense … and the crowd, the full fourteen thousand, sold-out, was roaring, but Jojo no longer heard it as a human sound.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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