Convince A Young Michael Jordan To Become A Plumber

The year? 1984.

Your profession? Plumber.

Your favorite college basketball team? The North Carolina Tar Heels, who have just finished their season with a record of 28-3 and taken first place in the ACC. That doesn’t matter right now, though, because as a plumber, the only thing on your mind is the clogged drain in your client’s bathtub.

Jesus, how in God’s name are you going to fix this thing?

Well, that didn’t do anything. This clog must be massive. As you stare at the bathtub, you wrack your brain for what to do.

Suddenly, you hear a ringing coming from inside the pipes. Goddamn it, someone must have shoved a cell phone down the drain again.

“Sorry, I cannot unclog bathtub,” says Siri.

You root around in the drain and hit a button with your wrench. Right as you do, a loud beep comes from inside the bowl, and a familiar voice starts to speak.

“Hello, is this a plumber on the line? This is a young Michael Jordan, and I am currently a guard for the North Carolina Tar Heels,” the voice says. “I’m only 21 years old, and my toilet is clogged with a basketball. I need to go to the bathroom. Can you please help me?”

“Yes, I have, but there’s a basketball clogging that, too.”

You can’t believe it. The 1984 ACC Player of the Year is calling you to unclog his pipes.

You drive to young Michael Jordan’s house, where Michael is waiting for you in the driveway. He’s dunking a basketball over and over again into a toilet that he’s nailed to the side of his house.

With that vertical, he could unclog a toilet on the ceiling if he wanted. He sure would make some plumber, wouldn’t he…

“Hi, are you my plumber?” says Michael Jordan. “I need to go to the bathroom.”

“Thank you, but I don’t think I can accept until I’ve heard all my offers.”

“Hi there! I’m a recruiter for the Chicago Bulls,” says the man standing to your left. “Nice to meet you! I’m here because I want to make Michael Jordan into a professional basketball player. Based on how he’s ramming that basketball into his toilet, I think he could be an NBA star.”

“Yes, he did, and he said he needed to go to the bathroom,” the recruiter says, before turning to Michael Jordan. “Hey, Michael! If you come play basketball for me and the Chicago Bulls, I have a new house I can give you. The house is really big, and the toilet isn’t clogged. It’s also got a very wide toilet, so you can put as many basketballs down it as you want.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” he says, before turning to Michael Jordan. “Hey, Michael! If you come play basketball for me and the Chicago Bulls, I have a new house I can give you. The house is really big, and the toilet isn’t clogged. It’s also got a very wide toilet, so you can put as many basketballs down it as you want.”

“Wow, that sounds great.” says Michael. “Can I go to that house right now and use the toilet?”

“You’re not allowed to use the bathroom until you’ve won me a national championship.”

“Well, I’ve listened to both your offers, and I’ve decided that I hate you both,” says Michael. “Neither of you deserve my talents. Goodbye.”

Michael Jordan starts sprinting down the road, dribbling a basketball as fast as he can.

He’s definitely going to go dunk it in a toilet, but where?

You get in your car. “Michael!” you yell out the window, as you drive down the road. “Michael Jordan! Has anyone seen Michael Jordan?”

Damn. No response.

You go back to Michael Jordan’s house. A ringing noise is coming from inside.

You go straight for the toilet. The ringing is getting louder and louder. Someone must have flushed a phone down here too, along with all those basketballs. You stick your wrench down the toilet and press a button down there. “Beep!” goes something in the pipes. “Hello?”

“It’s Michael,” says the voice, echoing off the toilet bowl. “I’m going to become a basketball player. It’s too late.”

“Hello, is this Michael Jordan? I am a recruiter for the Chicago White Sox, and I heard about your incredible toilet. I was wondering if you would be interested in playing baseball for us next year.”

You return to the road Michael Jordan just sprinted down, and you get in your car. “Michael!” you yell out the window, as you drive down the road. “Michael Jordan! Has anyone seen Michael Jordan?”

Damn. No response.

“Who is Michael Jordan?” says a man on the side of the road.

“Yeah, nope, never heard of him,” says the man. “I did see a young man sprinting and dribbling a basketball while sobbing, though. He went that way.”

The man points down.

“No, not yet. But he will, unless he becomes a plumber.”

“Sure, I’d love to become a plumber!” the man says. “Is it okay if I’m a sex offender?”

“Awesome, finally a job where I can go into people’s bathrooms and get paid for being a pervert,” he says. “Hey, what’s that noise?”

“Aw, don’t be a dick about it. It’s not like I meant to become a sex offender. I just want to be paid to go into people’s bathrooms and touch their toilets,” he says. “Hey, what’s that noise?”

You look down and notice a sewer grate at your feet. There’s a loud noise coming from below, and it sounds wet. “Thunk, thunk, thunk,” it goes, almost like the slapping of a basketball against a large puddle.

You keep driving. As you sit at a stop sign, you look down and notice a sewer grate at the foot of your car. There’s a loud noise coming from below, and it sounds wet. “Thunk, thunk, thunk,” it goes, almost like the slapping of a basketball against a large puddle.

The dribbling is only getting louder. Now you hear a swish, and the flush of a toilet. “Hell yeah!” a loud voice screams.

You descend into the sewer. The floor is littered with basketballs, and it’s impossible to walk. You can barely stay upright because you keep tripping on one after the other. Just as you finally find your balance, a basketball falls from a pipe above and smacks you on the head.

“Slam dunk,” grunts a shadow of man, before sprinting away from you. He’s taking large swigs out of a can of Drano and dribbling as fast as he can while dodging the basketballs that are falling from the ceiling. Holy hell, this plumber could be God’s gift to man…

“Hello, yes, I am Michael Jordan,” says the man, throwing his basketball over his shoulder. “I can dunk and dribble and run, and I would love to be a plumber for you and your team.”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Yes, as Michael Jordan, I loved your offer. All I’ve ever wanted to do was be a plumber,” he says, spinning a plunger on his finger.

“That’s not Michael Jordan,” you hear a voice say from the shadows. You turn to your left and are confronted with a hooded figure…

“No, I’m also not Michael Jordan,” says the man, taking off his hood before immediately getting hit by a basketball falling from the pipes in the ceiling. “I’m a recruiter for the Chicago Bulls, and that’s Charles Barkley. I think he could be a basketball star.”

You turn back to Charles Barkley and prepare to make your case. “I would love to be a plumber, man,” he says. “I love to plumb.” Suddenly, though, something in his stomach starts to ring. He must have swallowed a phone again.

You turn back to Charles Barkley and prepare to apologize. “I would love to be a plumber, man,” he says. “I love to plumb.”

Just then, something in his stomach starts to ring.

“Is that a…phone in there?” you think to yourself. “Did Charles Barkley swallow a cell phone again?”

Charles Barkley takes your wrench and reaches it down his throat, and when it hits his stomach, you hear a “beep!”

A familiar voice issues from his throat.

“Hello? This is Michael Jordan. Is this a plumber? I’m at Madison Square Garden,” says the phone in Charles Barkley’s stomach. “I need to go to the bathroom, but all the toilets at the NBA Draft are clogged with basketballs. Can you help me?”

You reach your wrench down Charles Barkley’s throat, and when it hits his stomach, you hear a “beep!”

A familiar voice issues from his throat.

“Hello? This is Michael Jordan. Is this a plumber? I’m at Madison Square Garden,” says the phone in Charles Barkley’s stomach. “I need to go to the bathroom, but all the toilets at the NBA Draft are clogged with basketballs. Can you help me?”

“Yes, I did,” says Michael, out of Charles Barkley’s mouth. “They told me I can’t get drafted first anymore because of that.”

You take off sprinting. As a plumber, you know these pipes like the back of your hand. You are going to find Michael Jordan. Today is the 1984 NBA Draft at Madison Square Garden, and he’s there now. You can sense it.

You take off sprinting. Fuck that recruiter! He can have Charles Barkley. All you need is future plumber Michael Jordan, and you know exactly where to find him. Today is the 1984 NBA Draft at Madison Square Garden, and he’s there now. You can sense it. As a plumber, you know these pipes like the back of your hand, and you follow the twists and turns of the underground pipes until you sense he’s near…

Charles hasn’t hung up the phone yet, and is talking to his own stomach. “Hey man, how’s the draft going?” says Charles, before opening his mouth to hear the response: “I need to go to the bathroom,” says Michael out of Charles’ stomach.

You keep sprinting down the tunnel. After leaping above huge puddles and piles of basketballs, you come across a grate. “Welcome to the 1984 NBA college draft,” you hear, booming from loudspeakers through the hole above. “The first selection will be made by Houston.”

“No,” says the voice.

You punch through the grate to Madison Square Garden. As you pull yourself out of the gaping sewer hole in the stadium floor, you find yourself right under a chair in the third row at the NBA Draft. Suddenly, you hear the worst words possible: “And the third draft of the NBA goes to the Chicago Bulls…”

“Hey, lay off,” shouts the man sitting in the chair above you. “I’m a recruiter for the Chicago Bulls. What the hell are you doing? I want to listen to my draft pick.”

“Hello?” you hear Charles Barkley yelling, echoing down the pipes from miles away. “Where can I sign up to be a plumber?”

You curl into a ball under the chair and listen to the draft: “…the Chicago Bulls pick Michael Jordan, of the University of North Carolina.” The crowd erupts.

“Good luck getting him to be a plumber now,” the recruiter says.

Michael Jordan takes the stage. “Hello, thank you for picking me third in the draft for the NBA,” says Michael Jordan. “I still very much need to go to the bathroom. I wish every toilet I tried to use wasn’t clogged with a basketball.”