Snotty Sanders: "Running Wild"
"The jack of all trades has returned to tell you that you've just been JACKED off." —Jack Nippleson
Ever since he was a baby, Scottie Sanders was known by all for being a snot-nosed brat—a punk with a real crap attitude, even at the age of two. Simply put: Nobody liked him. Not even his parents, who preferred to bathe him with a hose in the backyard instead of doing the decent thing by bathing him alongside the dishes in the bathroom sink. No matter what he did, he did it wrong. The kid was so disorganized that he couldn't even walk properly: Rather than placing one foot in front of the other, he'd simply eurostep his way to the bathroom like some sort of hotshot. It was little things like this that bothered the entire town.
As he grew out of his diapers and into his big-boy pants, the resentment he held toward the world began to reach a boiling point. He never learned how to love; all he ever felt was rage—especially toward the children at school, who often teased him for shooting snot out of his nostrils like he was discharging a firearm. This habit continued into middle-school, where he often plugged his nostrils with tissues to prevent his nose from dripping. As the teasing continued, so did his rage—something that was becoming increasingly more difficult to contain. Scottie desperately needed a legal outlet to vent his frustrations but with no friends, he could do nothing more than beat off.
All of that changed, however, when he became a high-school freshman. Although gym class gave him the opportunity to be productive, he chose to sit in the corner and watch the school's basketball team practice instead. He was fascinated by the technicalities of the game and it quickly dawned on him that adding a little bit of violence could greatly impact the outcome of a game; and out of everybody in school, he was best suited for that role. Even though he knew that his classmates wouldn't play with him, he also knew they wouldn't have a choice if he made the team: And that's when everything changed for The Snot Master. Scottie started smashing windows and breaking into the school late at night to practice on the basketball court. He'd shoot hoops and launch snot until the crack of dawn, working his hardest to become the next "Juicy" James Gebhart. It didn't take long before the once-lanky snot-nosed brat transformed into a genetic freak—a gargoyle of a man. The teasing he was so accustomed to? Gone. The pain of having IBS? Still there. But at least now he had some confidence.
What Scottie didn't know was that he was being watched—not by a child predator, but by the school janitor, who was forced to live in a closet because his wife kicked him out for selling her worn socks on the internet. Not only was Roger a renowned janitor, but he was also a notorious drug dealer who specialized in selling anabolic steroids and other performance enhancing drugs to kids. One night, he approached Scottie while he was working on his free throws.
"Hey, kid, I've been watching you," he drunkenly slurred from the shadows of the gym.
"W-w-who's there?" the Snot Master stammered back in shock.
"The greatest drug dealer to ever live. They call me Roger, but you can call me 'Ragin' Roger," he replied as he stepped out of the shadows to reveal his vomit-soaked turtleneck sweater. "You look great. You have a lot of potential but you still have a lot of work to do. Fortunately for you, I sell anabolic steroids to young kids. Real young—I'm talkin' preteens. Now that I think about it, I have some steroids on me right now."
"I've never used steroids before but I'm open to the idea of looking like Triple H (circa 2006) so I'm sold," Snotty declared as he shook the man's hand. "We're in business."
Over the next few weeks, Raging Roger took Snotty under his wing and pushed his body to the limit. He went from looking like Hulk Hogan to looking like a Ford F150. His veins were so prominent and so thick that you could guide a gondola down them; his muscles so defined they had to include them in the Merriam-Webster dictionary. He was, by all means, ready to make the team—and that is exactly what he did.
In his very first game, Snotty scored 25 points and injured 5.5 players in 10 minutes, solidifying his status as one of the most dangerous players in high-school basketball. In his second game, he grabbed 10 rebounds and emasculated a player so badly that his own family disowned him. It didn't take long before PBSL scouts started lurking in the stands, taking notes and recording footage of Snotty shooting 3s. Teams became enamored with him; he had the one thing that no team in the league had: A player who could launch snot 15ft at 120mph. But that wasn't the only talent he had.
You see, Scottie still had a lot of pent up rage and the steroids transformed him into an angry, aggressive douchebag. He took any and every opportunity to punch walls, break sticks, and stomp on anthills whenever the pettiest of things bothered him. If he was a menace to society before, he was definitely Michael Myers now—albeit with a nose that ran like Niagra Falls. Basketball was no longer good enough to serve as his personal outlet; he needed a new way to exorcise his demons. One day, during an afternoon stroll, he passed a sign advertising chiropracy on the street. Suddenly, a light bulb appeared above his head: I should become a chiropractor, he thought. This way, I can hurt whoever I want.
After completing the mandatory 3 days of training, Snotty "Dr." Sanders was ready for business. The Back-Breaking School hooked him up with a job in Baltimore and he quickly gained a reputation for being one of the tougher, "more thorough" chiropractors in town. Little did they know, he was just getting started...
One day, Detroit Pistons GM IamQuailMan (colloquially known as "Doug") walked into Snotty's chiropractic practice. After being signed in, Doug was led down a dark corridor to a room where Snotty was waiting. Upon opening the door, Snotty's jaw dropped as he realized one of his childhood heroes had a back that was all out of whack. Just kidding—his heart filled with rage and he began clenching his fists and grinding his teeth into dust. Scottie grew up a fan of the Milwaukee Bucks and was a prominent voice in the movement to get Doug fired—a movement that succeeded in its efforts to chase him out of the city with torches. His hatred for Doug stemmed from the belief that Doug ruined the team he loved so dearly. But now, he had an opportunity to set the record straight: Snotty had a chip on his shoulder and a score to settle, to say the least.
As he laid on the table, Doug closed his eyes and tried his hardest to relax. With a long deep sigh, he could feel his tense muscles begin to loosen.
"The pain is stemming from my lower back," Doug instructed.
"Oh I'll say it is," Snotty retorted as he crashed his fists into Doug's back, instantly herniating every disc in his babylike body. Doug mustered as much strength as he could and flipped himself over to defend himself but the snot pouring from Scottie's nose instantly blinded him. He could feel it sliding slowly down his face like a thick gravy.
"W-who the hell are you and w-what do you think you're doing?" Doug cried out in agony.
"I'm Snotty Sanders and I'm going to town, son," Scottie replied as he began to eradicate Doug's ribs.
Suddenly, the staff rushed into the room and separated the two men, both of whom were soaked in Scottie's nasal syrup. Doug begged for somebody to call the police as his remaining teeth fell from his mouth. Snotty, on the other hand, was inconsolable: He dropped to his knees and began to cry uncontrollably. As the staff flocked to console Snotty, Doug started crawling toward the door, screaming out for help.
"Oh no you don't! You're not going anywhere!" the receptionist hollered as she grabbed Doug by the collar like a dog. "You wait right here until the police arrive, ya big jerk!"
After the police arrived and arrested Doug for disorderly conduct, Snotty was promptly fired from his position. Because police took sympathy on Snotty, he was given a slap on the wrist and was allowed to leave. When he got home, Snotty sat in contemplation: Now that he lost his job, he had nothing left; he had nothing to turn to... except basketball.
Snotty started hitting the court again—this time, without Raging Roger. This time, he was going to do it on his own. He was going to make it. And if he couldn't make it? He'd become an obstetrician. But first, he had to get his act together. He had to hit the bar and drink as heavily as humanly possible, which was his father's way of resolving problems. After that, he had to announce his eligibility for the upcoming PBSL Draft, which didn't concern him too much as he could always return to working chiropracy but in another state.
One day, Snotty decided to invite over some PBSL scouts, one of them being "Bathroom Billy" Wagner, the chief scout for the Utah Jazz. After watching his workout, Bathroom Billy approached Snotty and told him that he'd like to have a little chat in the restroom. Upon entering, Bathroom Billy informed him, "We're going to take you if we get the first overall pick, you know," to which Snotty remained silent. "And once you're ours, you're ours for life, and there's absolutely nothing you can do about it." The sweat started dripping from Snotty's forehead. The snot? Always dripping. He was simply in a state of shock.
"I... I don't know what to say," Snotty uttered.
"Tell me you'll do it. Tell me you'll never play for another team. Because I literally just told you that you're going to be ours and there's nothing you can do about it," Bathroom Billy proposed.
"Oh yeah, that's right," Snotty responded in wonder. "You know what, that makes a lot of sense. Once the draft starts, I'll just refuse to play for any other team. Let's make it happen."
Bathroom Billy smirked as he took one last puff from his cigar. He turned his back on Snotty and walked away with a smile on his face, knowing that it would all soon come to fruition...
