“Step into my office Victoire, I need a moment with you,” said Orange Julius, star wide receiver of the San Jose Sabrecats and GM of the London Royals. The meeting occurred at the tail end of training camp. Golden helmet under his arm, Absolue followed his esteemed employer with curiosity. He was still getting used to interacting with the scaled up, magically animated Orange Julius cup. “Have a seat Vic,” the words came out breathlessly, shaped by the black squiggly marks that comprise OJ’s lips, “we’ve decided to name you one of our captains. You’ve brought significant acumen to the defense and have shown leadership qualities during drills and scrimmages. We do hope you’ll accept the responsibility,” he finished, snortling loudly through his cranial straw for emphasis, a long dribble of juice and cream co-mingling with condensation around the rim of his skull.
“Woah!” Victoire responded, eyes saucering wildly, “what an honor! Will I be able to call the coin flips?”
Julius laughed boisterously, splattering sticky-sweet snot bubbles out of his straw as he rocked backward in his cup. “Why not, I’ll say yes.”
“You will not regret this sir. In these coin flips, I will predict the outcome with great accuracy, and Victory WILL be absolute.”
“Hell yea Vic. We’re happy to have you.”
“Woah!” Victoire responded, eyes saucering wildly, “what an honor! Will I be able to call the coin flips?”
Julius laughed boisterously, splattering sticky-sweet snot bubbles out of his straw as he rocked backward in his cup. “Why not, I’ll say yes.”
“You will not regret this sir. In these coin flips, I will predict the outcome with great accuracy, and Victory WILL be absolute.”
“Hell yea Vic. We’re happy to have you.”
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