How To Be Useless in the Playoffs
By: Cleveland Guard, Larry Hughes


 

What’s your excuse?

Stayed up too late? Couldn’t sleep? Drank a bit too much? Dog wouldn’t stop barking?

Whatever your excuse is, I bet that mine is better. Guaransheed.

Did you finally get to fuck that hot broad that lives across the hall from you in that new, swanky apartment complex? Well, I fucked the shit out of 3 supermodels.

Did your alarm clock not go off? Boo fucking hoo. My RAZR phone (which is hooked up to my 60-gig iPod, which is docked to my huge Technics speakers) wasn’t charged fully and ran out of juice. I bet you don’t even have a cell phone.

My point is that my excuse will always be much better than yours will. Besides that, how many times do you perform in front of 20,000 people? Probably not very often unless you’re a 15-year-old girl on a webcam or something.

"LeBron, after finding out how much more money I make than he does LOL!"

As I do each and every year, I was looking for a way to mail it in during the latter part of the regular season and, if I’m lucky, the postseason. Imagine my glee when I found out I had a broken finger! To you, the working man, you probably go to the doctor’s office once and they give you a little splint that you wear until you get to your car in the physician’s parking lot and then you chuck that splint onto the cracked sidewalk.

But I’m Larry Hughes. And my injuries are very serious.

I decided to take the rest of the season off, even though there were over 4 months left :o)

What did I do during my time off? I hung out with my little brother a lot. We played a lot of video games, went to the mall, ate a ton of junk food, etc. We both sort of joked about how much bigger we were getting. I like to think that I won that contest but that was the only one that Justin has ever beat me in.

One night when we were just chillin’ at Steak N Shake, I dared him to eat a jalapeno pepper. I was just joking and didn’t expect him to eat it, but he did! And then he ate the rest of them and drank that disgusting juice that people deliberately put on their burgers. I like to think that this summarized our relationship as brothers. I wish I had a really cool metaphor or soliloquy but I only attended college for one year hehehehehe.

After I couldn’t milk my very minor and trivial injury anymore, I had to come back. Ugh. What sort of excuse could I come up with now? I really can’t take this crap anymore. I have $60+ million rolling in to me, I have shit to do. Nothing fucks up your game like having a job. I'd rather lick the floor underneath a men's urinal then have to keep doing this shit.
The last known photo of my brother, Justin :(
 

So, in conclusion, I didn’t kill my baby brother and I don’t know what any of you are talking about.