Last night, after a lopsided loss to the Heat, Charles Barkley said that Kevin Durant has no killer instinct. He’s right. Durant is soft. He’s wet tissue paper. He has all the hardness of pudding. He is like if Downy Fabric Softener was a person. He’s one of Drake’s tears. He’s what you’d get if you took the GIF of James Van Der Beek crying that everyone always thinks is funny and merged it with “Screaming Infidelities”.
He goes to pottery fairs. He shops for his clothes at Aeropostale. His favorite word is “ouch”. He calls his Mom “Mommy”. He has a cat collage on the wall of his room. His friends call him Snuggles. Sometimes he’s late to practice because he’s Google image searching “Zack Morris kisses Kelly Kapowski”. If you touched him you would feel like you were touching a baby blanket.
He’s a player who’s all flash and no substance. He can’t hit big shots in big games. He can’t get to his spots when he needs to. He’s incapable of closing games. It’s as if he’s never shut a door in his life. Dude is cream puff cotton candy cinnamon swirl soft. He’s a treat you pay too much for at the fair. He’s got no killer instinct whatsoever…
Hey, bro. Chill. I’m talking.
Dude, for real. Get out of here. Trying to…
I said chill out, dude!! Get out!! This is my piece…
Bro, ease up!! I’m talking!!!!
Ummmmm, yeahhhh, pretty sure that you’re…
Hey, take a hike pal!!!
This is Kevin Durant typing now. The writer of this article isn’t here anymore. He had to leave. Have a nice day.
Yours in servitude,