Fan Fiction Friday: The Reign of Flay Crowder

Jerome Miron-USA TODAY Sports

It was just a bad joke...but it became so much more.

In the tumbling roar of the inchoate, in the beating heart behind the wall of the universe something stirred, a movement like a waterfall turning over on its side, like a gout of flame taking human shape. It rippled at the sound of a small voice from a distant, unimportant corner of the was saying...

Flay Crowder. Someone had called his name.

"Haha," the staff of Mavs Moneyball joked. "Mavs drafting in the early 30s again. What are they going to do? The latest in a string of literally thousands of combo guards with no real strengths? What if they draft Jae's brother, Flay Crowder."

Flay Crowder, destroyer of worlds. Asleep for aeons in the hollow of the hidden galaxy. The calling of the name, the most ancient of magic. Strength dripped into him like ancient sap creeping through a petrifying tree, just enough to wake. Not enough for...

"Haha, Flay Crowder," said a self-satisfied Mavs Moneyball staffer, his belly shaking like a bowl of agitated jelly.  "Hilarious. His name is just like Jae's, but weirder."

The ancient one moved, his lazy hand movement tearing neutrons from stars. The pillars of the universe trembled.

The hand moved and over it floated a globe, small in the palm of the hand but the size of solar system in the comparatively quiet universe. The globe flickered on, like a TV, and on that TV an image of Adam Silver standing at a podium. A vision of what would be...

"With the 34th pick of the NBA draft, the Mavericks select Flay Crowder." As he said it, the sun exploded and covered the Earth, not in fire but in a darkness that grew and grew. An unearthly wail shuddered out of the depths and the hordes of the underworld were loosed upon the Earth, gibbering fiends that devoured everything in their path. They heralded his coming.

"Weird pick," Silver said at the podium as the wall behind him melted. "I mean I've never heard of Flay Crowder. Where did he go to college? Probably some Euro guy I guess. Still, you wouldn't think he'd go in the early 30s. I mean I am the commissioner, or whatever, I should know the guys who are probably going to be drafted in the early 2nd." The ground opened, swallowing most of the Knicks. "Does this mean we've got cap space?" a fan asked. He was eaten by a fiend with the body of a griffin and the face of Moochie Norris.

"Utah is on the clock," Silver said, but another voice, louder, shouted:


"I just said that," Silver muttered. "Jesus, some people."

The calling of the name. Their attention gave him strength, and strength gave him power. And power let him destoy universes. AND he could totally make corner threes. But just as fast as it came the sensation faded. The voices disappeared.

The fire faded, the waterfall went dry.

If only they would call again...

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