All You Flirtatious Girls Working the Front Desk Better Fear the Mamba
And then again, sometimes the snark writes itself, as in this excerpt from Ric Bucher’s ESPN The Mag story on Kobe Bryant:
“Granted, there’s still a dark side that Bryant embraces. He’s known in his inner circle as Mamba, which, he is happy to explain, is a kind of snake that can grow to 13 feet and is one of the world’s quickest, and one of the most venomous, serpents. He referred to this summer as the ‘blackout,’ in which the snake grew a new skin through a seven-days-a-week conditioning program.”
And Kobe’s explanation of the new nickname: “The mamba can strike with 99 percent accuracy at maximum speed, in rapid succession. That’s the kind of basketball precision I want to have. Not being able to train the last two summers, I was in a gunfight with a rusty butter knife. I did my share of killing, but I was just fighting to survive.”
Words. Failing. Me.
Although give the man his props for doing his fair share of killing, armed only with a rusty butter knife in a gunfight. What, did they die of lockjaw, Kobe, after you slathered rust on them? Were they blind, deaf kids armed with guns, who couldn’t see or hear you as you snuck up on them, all stealthy, ready to give them a rust slathering the likes of which they’d never seen before?
And you thought I was going to go the other way, what with the trouser snake cracks. For shame. That’d just be too easy. Like slathering rust on fish in a barrel.
