This week 10 injury report is the final chapter in my upcoming novel, “Frankie’s Fantasy Football Team: Week 9.” It’s going to be the first part of a series.
Week 10 Injury Report
Picture it: A suburban street just like any other, yet like none other. Inside a blue house, a war is being waged. My fantasy team, the mirthfully titled, “Fantasy Frankballs,” and my brother-in-law’s team, the poorly named, “Hunter Henry Hippos,” were waged in a fierce battle for 8th place. Dramatic, yes, but tensions ratchet up when you keep in mind that only 8 of the 10 teams in the league make the playoffs.
All I needed was 15 points from Jameis Winston, 15 points from Travis Kelce, and 20 points from my kicker to win. Then, tragedy struck like a holocaust. Jameis Winston reinjured his shoulder. Was I able to overcome these severe odds? No! Find out why in the next installment of my book series.
TO BE CONTINUED
There I was: Just points away from beating my brother-in-law. By the way, this is a different league where we are both eliminated. I needed two more catches to win. The tension is so high, I call my sister to come over. I don’t tell her why, though, as I don’t want to worry her and cause a possible driving distraction. I just said it was an emergency.
My sister’s 1992 Astro Van comes screeching up my driveway. Actually, it’s not my driveway, but it’s my mom’s driveway. However, this is all a major plot point for chapter 3, so I don’t want to give any more details regarding said driveway. My sister runs in, I tell her the news: Dez Bryant is one catch away. In response, my sister pretends to stick her finger down her throat but doesn’t. I have read that purging one’s stomach can be triggered by time’s of stress, and what could be more stressful than an exciting match between her husband and her brother? She obviously could not handle the excitement, as she quickly scurried away. Just then, I look at the TV screen. Time is running low, but Dallas snaps the ball. Holding my breath I watch as Dak Prescott steps back and launches a beautiful spiral into the hands of… who? I can’t see the number on their jersey. Finally, he gets up: It’s Terrence Williams. I thought I couldn’t feel any worse, but just then I remember Dez Bryant had left the game with an ankle injury about ten minutes prior.
By now, you the reader thinks that there couldn’t possibly have been any more drama for my team… Well, it will shock you to find out that there WAS more drama for my team!! Before Eddie Lacy showed up on the week 10 injury report, he was my last-minute start in my Overwatch clan league. I was hoping he might score a touchdown, but instead his body touched down on the ground with a groin injury.
Just then my mother called me into the den. She explained that I was no longer allowed to live in my house. At first, I was confused, as I had broken none of our agreed upon rules. Then I realized why she was so mad: My poor performance in the bedroom. Though there is a computer in the den, my bedroom desktop is where I prefer to set all of my fantasy lineups. She had no doubt heard about my poor choice of start in Lacy. I’ll get back in her good graces with some pro rest-of-season sleepers. Until then, though, I’m tenting it in the garage.
Jonas Stealth had been a British spy in America for decades, but he had never had a case such as this. In order to unravel and dissolve a gang of international art thieves, Stealth needed to accurately predict the starting quarterback of the week 10 Vikings game.
“Mr. Stealth, I presume,” said Stealth’s long-time enemy Mr. Bad, sauntering up to him next to the spinning ticket wheel at Dave & Buster’s.
“Can it Bad,” Stealth spat, but the trembling glass of Mountain Dew in his hand belied his aloofness. “I’ve already narrowed down the Vikings roster to two players: Teddy Bridgewater or Case Keenum. Eat a butt.”
Stealth paused for Bad’s retort, but none was forthcoming as the criminal mastermind had engaged himself with a particularly intense game of Pop-A-Shot. Stealth went to the betting window and removed the handcuff linking his left wrist to a smooth, metallic briefcase.
“Give me a million on Keenum, he’s on the week 10 injury report but I don’t give a darn,” Stealth ordered the betting window operator, who was hot. With a flourish of his wrists, Stealth popped open the briefcase, revealing stacks upon stacks of neatly ordered Dave & Buster’s tokens. He won the bet and the hot betting window operator led him onto the skee-ball ramps, and had a tryst so steamy it caused the writer of his story to reach completion.
And it looks like we, ourselves, have reached completion of this novel. I’m sure that you had as much fun reading it as I did thinking about you reading it. And we all lived happily ever after.
THIS IS THE END OF MY BOOK
For more literary masterpieces like this week 10 injury report, check out the following articles: