Title: Inside the Toronto Raptors Thanksgiving dinner party
Date: November 28, 2013
Original Source: Raptors Republic
Synopsis: This parody took a look inside a fictional Toronto Raptors’ team Thanksgiving party.
Taking a page out of the books of Down Goes Brown, Raptors Republic has hired a spy to sneak into Toronto Raptors functions and get us the inside scoops. His or her (like we’d divulge) first assignment was to sneak into the team’s Thanksgiving get together, hosted by head coach Dwane Casey. (Should also give some credit to Gourmet Spud for the style-jacking.)
*The doorbell rings. Dwane Casey opens it wearing a messy apron. Several members of the Toronto Raptors walk through the door, exchanging pleasantries.*
Casey: Hey guys, welcome. Dinner should be ready in just a bit.
D.J. Augustin: Here coach!
*Augustin hands Casey a dish with tinfoil on it.*
Augustin: I brought turnovers for desert!
Casey: Of course you did. Come on in guys, you can put your coats in the…
*Tyler Hansbrough smashes through the front door. he looks around menacingly, then aggressively grabs everyone’s coat and trudges off.*
DeMar DeRozan: Coach, it smells delicious in here. What are we having with the turkey?
Casey: Nothing. You guys know me, nothing fancy. Just the bare essentials, nothing creative.
Quincy Acy: Don’t worry guys, I brought some stuffing.
*Acy hands over a bowl that very clearly has stray beard hairs in it. A few other players have brought dishes, too. The team heads into the dining room and sits around the table, with Casey at the head. Rudy Gay begins picking at any store-bought food, removing any price tags and calorie information.*
Casey: So, guys, I’m glad to have you all here. I want you to know I’m thankful for the opportunity to coach a team of men like you, and…
DeRozan: Hey, coach, sorry to interrupt but it smells like something’s burning.
Casey: No, no, it’s fine. Just needs a bit more time. Now, as I was saying, even though some didn’t think…
Aaron Gray: Uhh, coach, I think DeMar is right. It really smells like the turkey’s burning.
Casey: Aaron, relax. I know fowl. You gotta have patience, I’ll just wait a few more minutes for fowl, and then it’ll be ready.
*The kitchen appears to be getting smokey.*
Austin Daye: Coach, it looks like something’s on fire.
Casey: The fowl’s not ready, guys. I want us to all go around the table and say things that we’re thankful for. Terrence, why don’t we start with you.
*There are now obviously flames in the kitchen. Terrence Ross just sits, staring into the kitchen, not knowing what to do.*
Casey: Terrence?
Ross: The…the fowl coach…
Casey: Fine, if you guys all want the fowl so bad!
*Casey moves into the kitchen and the sound of a fire extinguisher can be heard. Shortly after, Casey comes out with a nearly-black turkey.*
Casey: I guess I should have thought of the fowl earlier.
Steve Novak: Hey Rudy, can you pass the potatoes down?
DeRozan: Can we open a window to let the smoke out?
Casey: I don’t want any animals wandering in.
DeRozan: Don’t you use any screens?
*Casey looks confused by the question.*
Novak: Hey Rudy, can you pass the potatoes?
Amir Johnson: Don’t worry about the turkey, guys. I’ve got this!
*Johnson pulls out a jar of red sauce that just has “Amir” written on masking tape. He pours it on the turkey and the players begin serving themselves.*
Kyle Lowry: Damn, Amir, this is good.
Novak: Yo, Rudy! Pass the potatoes, man.
*The players begin to put the Amir sauce on other food, too.*
Landry Fields: You know, I can’t put my finger on what this is or why it’s so good, but it literally makes everything better.
*Abruptly, Casey stands up and takes Jonas Valanciunas’ plate away from him. Valanciunas looks up, sad and confused.*
Valanciunas: But Coach…
Casey: C’mon now, Jonas, you know I only feed you in the first half.
*A clump of mashed potatoes flies across the table, hitting Novak right in the face.*
Novak: What the hell?
Gay: You asked me to pass the potatoes!
Novak: That was minutes ago!
Gay: Oh, so sometimes you want me to pass the potatoes and other times you don’t? Make up your mind, man!
*Some of the players look to a corner of the room, where Masai Ujiri stands, finger lingering over what appears to be a detonator button. He looks up and sees he’s been noticed.*
Ujiri: Just evaluating, guys. Carry on.
*Sensing the danger, our spy chose this as an opportunity to leave, unnoticed and unscathed.
Blake Murphy Sports Writing 