Imagine what would happen if Kevin Durant never came to Golden State.

Stephen Curry would sit intensely on his bedside, observing the unrivaled beauty of the ankles he had collected from around the NBA. Chris Paul’s ankles, feet, and jockstrap sit front and centre, allowing Steph with a treasured object to focus on while he slipped deep into the realms of his own imagination.

He slips into a dark canyon. He cannot discern anything- how could he, it’s fucking dark- but he has an eerie understanding of where he is. It’s a labyrinth of sorts, a system of caves that extend to no end. He must choose his path. Before him sits three options. He knows he can only choose one. Three, to one. He chooses the one on the far right.

He runs in, immediately slipping on a pile of sweat. He rises back up. He walks over shards of glass, legos, South Carolina. He’s still on his feet. He pulls a torch out of nowhere, catching fire in an instant. Bats and mice flee the canyon at the sight of the light.
Curry emerges at a grand statue, maybe a few dozen feet in length. A massive, seemingly malleable body culminates at a head and a forked tongue. The scaly back of the statue reflects Curry’s light, illuminating the canyon in an amazing mosaic of blue and gold. The beady eyes of the statue opens as the head croaks.

The statue unveils its true form, a massive snake with remarkable height. Patches of hair and a goatee fit for a black Tibetan monk suddenly appear to Curry. There are two options, the snake groans, either Curry steps on his back to victory, or he continues through the cave.

With a 42-foot dagger, Curry unleashes a thunderous roar as he penetrates the statue. With his dagger. The snake groans once again, shining a fierce, vibrant shade of blue and bitch as it reverts to its hole. Curry continues through the cave, winding his way through the neverending labyrinth. He finally comes to a cave where everything seemingly culminates, and he sees a prophet. The Oracle.

The Oracle, in all of his majestic beauty, speaks with the voice of an unrivaled soothsayer. Deep, gravelly, with a kernel of ominous truth that Curry can’t quite place. Curry’s green eyes quake with fear, anxiety, and excitement as he awaits the prophecy of the Oracle. With enough force to perhaps collapse the labyrinth, the Oracle finally speaks. Only a collection of words are uttered. Curry can’t quite decipher them. Again, Curry pleads, speak again! The Oracle, once again shaking the labyrinth, speaks.


“You lose to the 8th seed lakers in 5 next year lmao”