1. the use of irony, sarcasm, ridicule, or the like, in exposing, denouncing, or deriding vice, folly, etc.
2. a literary composition, in verse or prose, in which human folly and vice are held up to scorn, derision, or ridicule.
3. a literary genre comprising such compositions.
The sound of bouncing basketballs echoes off the walls of the Suns Annexus practice court. Dan Majerle and other coaches hold a pre-draft workout. Up against a wall in a corner sit Lon Babby, Alvin Gentry and Lance Blanks.
Babby: "So whaddya think Alvin, eh? Do you like these guys?"
Gentry: (lifting a page on a clipboard and cocking an eyebrow): "Uh, yeah I guess... I just have one question, where in the hell did you find these kids? I don't have a single one of them in my notes.. and where is John Treloar - ?"
Babby: "Eh uh Alvin, listen to me good, these kids are the prime rib of all ribbery the savory seasoned salami that makes world go round - TRUST ME they're pros."
Gentry: "Riiight.. but I mean, did they go to college? Did you bring em' from overseas?"
Babby: "Alvin Alvin Alvin slow your role my man - me and Blanksy here we've got your back ain't that right Lance?"
Blanks: (Nods his head)
Babby: "For example take the one in the blue shorts there - "
Gentry: "The one with the shaved head and the tear-drop tattoos under his eyes?"
Babby: "Eh yeah yeah his name is Carlos..."
Enter Robert Sarver
Sarver: (Smiling wildly and pulling up a chair to join the group): "Like Carlos BOOZER Alvin... BOOZER!!! ...But minus the Booz- anyways, what do you think?! He could be our new go-to PF!!?
Gentry: "Um he's definitely got some size... and he looks a little older... but does he have any playing experience, like at the college level or maybe over in Eu--"
Blanks: "See Lon - I told you Alvin wasn't going to fall for this -
Sarver: "Zip the zipper Lance, your voice is like a small homeless child on the freeway asking for my spare change - that's why I leave my windows rolled up and avoid eye contact! Take a hint."
(Blanks slowly sinks back in his seat and stares blankly across the gym)
Babby: "Look Alvin - Carlos is the real deal, I know some guys who knew some guys who might have some friends who knew Carlos when he was doing time... I mean working out at the State Prison gym... He killed this one scrub with a whittled-down cafeteria spoo-
Sarver: "What Lon meant to say Alvin is that Carlos killed 'IT' - not a real person - with his um, dribble-drive like he was taking opponents to school for cafeteria food..."
(Awkward silence and long Pause - Gentry staring at Sarver as Sarver's eyes shift from side to side)
Gentry: "Where's John Treloar again?"
Sarver: "Oh is he the guy that brought the cool macaroni-art projects last time? I hired him for my Bank to head my Arts-&-Crafts-Company-Morale-Boosting Department... he's on assignment today"
Gentry: "WHAT?! Bob you hired him first to be our head draft talent evaluator and THE DRAFT IS NEXT WEEK!"
Sarver: "It was Lance's fault..."
(Gentry looks over to Lance Blanks who is sitting fast asleep with his mouth wide open. Gentry buries his face in his hands)
Babby: "Alvin... Aaaaaaaaalvin why so glum my man? It's not like we're clueless, we've been working hard this offseason - did you hear we got Mickael Pietrus to come back and play with us next year!? He's like the freezer to our otter-pop..."
Gentry: "Lon - he had a player option"
Sarver: "And just like he's got player options we've got Suns options Alvin! Think about it - we could draft Carlos here, or we could draft one of those other guys the interwebs say we should draft... OR we could draft my good friend Benjamin... as in 3 MILLION DOLLARS CASH for our pick baby!"
Gentry: "Guys, guys - we've got a serious problem here, we have a lot of holes to fill and we have no time to waste - THE DRAFT IS IN LIKE A WEEK!"
(Babby glances over to Robert Sarver with a concerned glare - Sarver in turn looks at Lon - then at the ground - and nods his dead)
Babby: "Well Alvin we've got a secret to break to you.."
Sarver: "Since Kerr and all his loud-mouth know-it-all buddies left we've decided to take a new direction with how our front office handles things.."
Babby: "One word: UNDERGROUND Alvin. Underground. As in hush hush - it's something I'm bringing back from my days running with Gotti and Lil'Rico, you talk - you lose more than a finger -
Sarver (Interrupting): "Eh anyways we didn't know if we could trust you because you have one of those tweeter things on your phone, we didn't know if you'd be a liability -"
Babby: "Yeah you know - leaking our plans all over the internet to the enemy and whatnot"
Sarver: "So we went to the one person who we all know can hide any and everything from the media and even the general public. Robin Lopez."
Babby: "The kid is brilliant AG - absolutely brilliant, he's like Einstein's twin if you mixed him with a Lassie/Old Yeller cross-breed. He knows his stuff and he's been holding top-secret workouts with many of the top projected lottery picks"
Gentry (Absolutely Bewildered): "You mean like actual college players and such?"
Sarver: "We're talking Tristan Thompson, Alec Burks, Jimmer Fredette - Kenneth Faried, Jordan Hamilton...:
Babby: "Guys that might actually help this team going forward! You see Alvin! Turn that frown upside-down! We've got the Sun, the Moon...
Gentry: "AND ROBIN LOPEZ RUNNING MY IMPORTANT PRE-DRAFT WORKOUTS!?!!? WTF!? Does he at least have some notes or a report I can take a look at?
Sarver: "OH DOES HE?! (Begins to smile giddily again) Show him the goods Lon!"
(Babby reaches into a hidden pocket in his vest - retrieves a small key and unlocks a briefcase at his side. He opens the case and passes to Gentry a book that resembles a sketch pad)
Gentry: "What in the world is this?"
Babby: "Behold! The holy grail of pre-draft evaluations!"
(Gentry thumbs through the book and sees sketch after sketch of draft-prospects suited in DC Comic superhero garb. Below each picture is a small paragraph written in a language that appears to be Wookie.)
Gentry: "We're screwed. Bob, Lon, I want John Treloar back here. NOW."
Lights dim - the echoes of bouncing basketballs fade.. end of Act II