scene: Daryl Morey's secret lair deep inside the Toyota Center, right after the Rockets beat the Clippers without most of their key players. The team was eliminated from the playoffs earlier in the week... and our boy genius GM is alone but in a, umm, mood.
/checks the standings, see the Rockets still trail Memphis and New Orleans in the playoff race
Daryl: Well, s--t. Just when our guys start playing like champs, we literally run out of games. And now we might soon be without a coach. And Yao. And Chuck Hayes, though that mofo better come back with everything we've done for him here in Houston. At least I got rid of McGrady... so I still have that going for me, which is nice.
Ahh, the season is almost over. I can not make any trades at this point and we are over the luxury tax, so I might as well just enjoy the last two games and get ready for next season. But in the meantime.........
(more goodness after the jump... language almost certainly NSFW)
Daryl: Who the fuck is texting me at midnight on a Saturday? I told Battier to leave me alone. My wife is starting to make inappropriate jokes about our bromance. Her suggestion that I talk to legal about the sexual harassment laws in Texas pretty much forced me to trade him. Ahhh, memories...
/reads text message. It's from Bill Simmons.
SImmons: I told you to trade all those guys. Now you are winning. You should give me credit. It's like that time on 90210 when Steve Sanders tried to take credit for that time Brandon did that [message cuts off because Simmons is still rocking a RAZR and has data limits]
Daryl: Fucking bloggers... I need a drink
/breaks out the Patron. Takes a shot
//looks at the standings again. Takes another shot.
///looks at available coaches on the market. Takes yet another shot.
////waits five minutes. Takes another shot - because... why the fuck not?
[45 minutes later........]
Daryl: Heyyyyyyy *burp* I should totally call Sacramento again! Those bitches are so busy trying to move to Anaheim that they might not be able to handle my jedi mind trick. But first I gotta call the Sports Bitch and explain to him what a jedi mind trick *is* since he hates Star Wars. What a pussy.
/texts Simmons. Misspells every word except "jedi"
Daryl: Hahaha... *hiccup*... that was fun. Now to find the Maloof brothers.
/calls the Palms casino in Las Vegas.
Hotel Clerk: Hello, you've reached the Palms Hotel and Casino in fabulous Las Vegas. This is Rafer, ummm, I mean Ronald. How can I help you?
Daryl: Yeah, I'm looking for one of the Maloof brothers. I don't care which one. Just get someone on the phone!
Rafer Hotel Clerk: Sir, they are in Anaheim right now, but would you like me to give you their voice mail?
Daryl: Fine, what *hiccup* ever.
/leaves rambling voicemail begging Sacramento to give up DeMarcus Cousins. Again.
[Morey then has a drunkenly vivid dream about acquiring DeMarcus Cousins and being able to pair him with Patrick Patterson for the most physically imposing Rockets front-court since the Twin Towers]
[scene: Sunday at the Toyota Center; Morey has a daily meeting with Les Alexander]
Daryl: [still very, very drunk] Ohhh, this flourescent lighting is killer. But oh, man, I think I might have done the impossible. DeMarcus Cousins. A real, actual center. How will I ever break this to Chuck Hayes?
/Les Alexander walks in
Daryl: Les! I like totally apologize for my condition today, but I think you'll forgive me. *BURP* Seriously though - I acquired DeMarcus Cousins!! Cousins!! He's supposed to come in today so make sure that he's able to get through security to get to practice today. We finally acquired a center! A real one!
Les: But, uh, Daryl, the trading deadlng expired nearly two months ago. Remember? How else were we going to get rid of your boy toy and that greedy little midget without the pressure of a deadline?
Daryl: No, no, it's cool, man. I got it all worked out. Just make sure he gets past security. Really, it's gonna be.... sooo.... aweeessssoooommmmeeee
/Morey passes out at his desk
Les: [shakes his head and walks away, but puts the name DeMarcus Cousins on a note for the security guard because Morey has pulled rabbits out of the hat before. Or do we need to go back through the Luis Scola acquisition?]
[scene: Player's Entrance at the Toyota Center on Sunday. Rockets about to hold a practice before hosting the Dallas Mavericks on Monday.]
Marcus Cousin: Oh, man, oh, man, oh, man - I've been signed by an NBA team! Not just that, my hometown Houston Rockets! This is gonna be the best day of my life! Oh, man, oh, man, oh, man!
/Cousin gets to players' entrance and knocks on the door
LaFours: [says nothing. Stares down Cousin.]
Marcus Cousin: Oh, man! Hi, I'm Marcus Cousin. I'm the new player. I am a Houston Rocket! Oh, man, I can't believe I can say that!
LaFours: [quickly glances at note given to him by Les Alexander, sees "Cousins" and opens the door]
/Cousin quickly runs to the locker room where he runs into Hasheem Thabeet.
Thabeet: [Afraid to say or do anything and is noticeably shaking]
Marcus Cousin: Hey, what's up!? I'm Marcus, how's it going?
Thabeet: Ummmm... hi. [nervously] How'd you get in here?
Marcus Cousin: [confused] I came in through the Players' Entrance? Was I not supposed to? Did I do something wrong? Oh, no, I did something wrong, didn't I?
Thabeet: I wouldn't know, dude. Everything I do is apparently wrong. Coach Adelman banished me to the D-League because I somehow wasn't sitting on the bench properly during games. He scares me a little. I'm sure you're okay though. Aren't you DeMarcus Cousins?
Marcus Cousin: Umm, no? I'm Marcus Cousin. DeMarcus is from Kentucky and I played right here at UH!
Thabeet: Oh! [pauses] Wait - then how'd you get past the gate? That security guard is insane. I hear he even has two kills! That's why I snuck in the window here. This guy named Jay helped me. I could not risk making coach mad again for something I did not even know about... I just want to play. I just want a chance.
Marcus: [concerned] Ummmm, me too, man. I just want a chance. It looks like I'm finally going to get it!
Thabeet: Good luck, man.
[scene: Cousin goes to Daryl Morey's office to sign the contract]
/Marcus knocks on the door to Morey's office
Daryl: [sobering up but slowly] Yes, yes! Come in DeMarcus! *hiccup* I've been waiting all morning for you to get here!
/Marcus opens the door and walks in
Marcus: Hi, I'm...
Daryl: Who the FUCK are you? Where is DeMarcus? How did you get past security?
Marcus: [scared] Sir, my name is Marcus Cousin. You called me late last night and said you wanted to sign me to play for the Rockets and to be here early today. I quit my job and everything. That's why I'm here. Security let me in through the players' entrance. Is there a, um, problem??
Daryl: Goddamn Patron! I knew I should not be drinking. It's my kryptonite.
[pauses, thinks, reminisces about his days at MIT]
Daryl: Awww, fuck it, there's only two games left and then we can cut you. Who did you say you were again?
Marcus: Marcus Cousin, sir.
Daryl: [thinking aloud... but to himself... completely ignoring Marcus] Hmmmm, I can make this work. I'm sure I can convince those guys at Clutch Fans that I meant to do this. And I can easily distract Simmons by making fun of Danny Ainge and the Perkins trade. Yeah, just gotta make this work for two games. No problem.
Go suit up, kid! You're playing tomorrow!
Marcus: Woo hoo! [/quickly leaves before Morey changes his mind]
[scene: First Quarter at Monday's game against the Dallas Mavericks. Chuck Hayes is in foul trouble early on.]
/Sikma elbows RIck Adelman in the ribs. Adelman stops dreaming about rainbows and looks at his roster sheet.
Coach Sleepy: [without even looking up] Hey, Cousins, get in there!!
Marcus: Yes, sir, coach! I'm your man!
[/Cousin proceeds to score 20 points in 14 minutes because Morey is a goddamned genius, even when drunk off his ass and drunk dialing Las Vegas and the D-League offices]
Rick Adelman: [wide awake staring angrily at Thabeet] SIT THE FUCK DOWN, BITCH! I'm playing Sikma before I ever let you on the court! Go sit next to that Terrence guy!
Hasheem Thabeet: [sits back down. Cries.]