You being the strongest and the largest and the wisest, I am certain many clans have come to court you, The Bron. I am sure the Net People have offered you sweet satchels of gold stamped with the heads of their king and the Bull Men have promised all the treasure of their maze.
The Lake Men have come up from the depths carrying pearl oysters and acres of freshwater pinch-meat. And the Miami Heat, well, we shall not speak of them again for only a fool makes a bargain with them as any wish is sure to return elevenfold to you in suffering. Will you choose one of these clans to make your allies? Will you become one of them?
Perhaps you will defy them and stay with the Cleave Men of the Burning River, to be slowly ground down into the stump of something beautiful, like the husk left by a butterfly or the rind Kobe leaves in the shower before he changes to Strength Warrior. No, I think not. You are destined for great things.
Our proposal is thus:
That you shall never want for food nor drink. Our lands are fecund. Each spring we harvest the mongo fruit which can be made into a delicious sweet mead and our hunters use blow guns to capture the marsupials that swing from branch to branch. Also we are trees, so sometimes body apples grow on us, as you will learn yourself if you pledge your spirit to the Great Tree and become one with the roots of our clan.
You will become taller by as much as three times your current height. This will happen fairly soon after you meet the Great Tree and accept the acorn. Your limbs will begin to grow longer and then your trunk will begin to stretch. It might hurt at first, but soon you will be beyond physical pain. This will unleash your innate verticality and elevate your dunking destruction.
Almost every dunk will shatter glass, no dunks will ever be blocked, whole families of robins will witness the mayhem you wield on rims from their nests in your head branches, you will thrill fans with wicked knots and ripply boles, squirrels will jackanape up and down your trunk when you're standing at the free throw line, and you will no longer feel the shame of being nude so you will not need a uniform. If you desire you may wear all of the Ed Hardy shirts you want or you may become the illustrated man and cover yourself in dark, illegible tattoos.
During the off season fans will approach you in the Hallowed Glade and for an autograph you may give them a quest or demand they answer a riddle. Wizards and warlocks will seek you out for your wise counsel; druids and elves for your ability to commune with the spirit of nature.
Your humanity will disappear and your flesh will become wood and you will gradually lose your emotions and your fears and desires. This will transform you into an even greater baller.
These are some things we can offer to you, The Bron. We can list these things to you, but there are others that can only be understood and fully appreciated once you are a part of the clan. There is the camaraderie of sharing soil and sun, the austere song of the forest on an October morning. There is the silent eroticism of a plastic Aldi bag caught up in your branches by the wind.
The Bron, we are your people waiting to be discovered. Our Tree Sages can see the hand of fate upon you in their castings. The Bron, you must shun these other offers, for the Tree Men propose unquantifiable riches in exchange for your loyalty. If you Ball War beneath our standard we will go the distance and give you the heat and the team you need to not only win the Ring of Champions, but build a dynasty that will endure for centuries.
In closing, you must join with the Tree Men. Thank you for your consideration.
This is the crown jewel of my erotic lamp collection, and a must-have for any serious pleasure lamp collector.
The treacherous New England Patriots are guilty of deflating their footballs. We must punish them severely in the name of holy retribution. This transgression has been the biggest headline in the United States for an entire week, and it should be the primary concern of all nations.
This ain't your daddy's globe...! .... or is it?!
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