This was one of the most difficult broadcasts Stephen A. Smith had ever attempted. The rumors and allegations swirled in his head as he tried to make sense of it all. Stephen A. curled his fist into a ball and hurled it down onto his desk reigning down blows on the morning’s edition of the New York Times. Wincing from the throbbing pain in his hand he looked up to the heavens and cursed God for thrusting such an odious burden upon him. “Damn you lord” he sputtered in between sobs “how can one man be expected to know this much. The people of the world need their sports, but I don’t know if I can give it to them. Why have you cursed me with this Sisyphean task? Why?” Stephen A. puckered his lips and spat towards the heavens in vain only to mist the beautifully sculpted face of Linda Cohn. “Stephen” she blurted out in surprise “you usually wait till later to give me the money shot. Which reminds me, I’ve still got the jungle fever you know?” “The people need their sports woman, leave me be.” retorted Stephen A. Quickly returning to his thoughts Stephen A. pondered the day’s important questions: is T.O. coming back to the Eagles? Why is Drew Rosenhaus the best agent ever? Which is a bigger sewer Philadelphia or a sewer? Should we actually discuss football being played……nah! In the back of his mind Stephen A. knew there was no time left. The broadcast hour was drawing nigh and there were asses that needed kicking.

He sat down in his chair and gritted his teeth ready to take on hell the moment the cameras went on. Mere seconds before the broadcast was scheduled to begin something broke the still of the room. An urgent newsflash superseded the show. Stephen A. watched the television intently to see what had happened that would draw attention from his show. His jaw dropped in horror as he saw a path of destruction and mangled bodies. Every imaginable perversion danced on the screen before Stephen A.: Houses torn in two, severed heads, sunken roads, same sex relations, and a great conflagration consuming whole apartment complexes. The camera panned to a lone survivor. It was small Asian man donning a pink Hello Kitty t-shirt. “What happened here?” asked the visibly disturbed news anchor. The man’s reply was ominous “It’s Godzirra run for your lives!”

The camera cut back to Stephen A. At first he was he shocked and in awe, but a wave of boldness soon swept over his body. He stood up and proclaimed to the camera “Ahhhh hell no. No Godzilla ass mothafucka is gonna be stompin’ ‘round New York.” Reaching deftly into his pocket Stephen A. withdrew a silver medallion. He struck the medallion with one finger causing it to spin as he chanted and danced around the room. Suddenly he stopped and his body began to glow like spun gold. From his eyes shown brilliant light and from his mouth protruded a powerful fireball. “Yeah that’s right, yoga fire bitches” he snickered. Suddenly he began to grow at an alarming pace until he shattered the ESPN building and rose to almost 2000 feet above the ground. Far below on the ground the ESPN anchors struggled to clean themselves of the debris. “Oh shit” exclaimed Dan Patrick “he knocked Stewart Scott retarded. Rich Eisen quickly corrected Patrick reminding him that “Scott has always looked like that.”

Stephen A. quickly set his sights on Godzilla ran towards him ready for battle. Unfortunately Stephen A. was so enormous that he couldn’t help but cause collateral damage to the buildings around him. Collateral damage being the term that those who watched from a distance and had no relation to the casualties had the luxury of using. With a purposeful grimace and a terrible sound Stephen A. pulled the spitting high tension wires down. Helpless people on a subway train screamed bug-eyed as he looked in on them He picked up a bus and he threw it back down as he waded through the buildings toward the center of town. Then finally he came face to face with Godzilla. And by face to face I mean face to leg. Stephen A. had swelled to such a gigantic size that he easily stepped on Godzilla and ended the monsters reign of terror in New York City. With Godzilla vanquished the Lilliputian New Yorkers wondered what to make of the colossal sports anchor in the middle of their fair city. “What will you do know Stephen A.” cried every New Yorker in unison. Stephen A. laughed and responded “I’m gonna scoop up every motherfucker that supported the war in Iraq and send them over there to fight it themselves.”

Stephen A. was stayed true to his word and more. Morons who support unnecessary wars soon stopped as soon as they realized they would actually have to fight and not talk while others die because of their words, cats and dogs learned to work it out, and the price of gas dropped to $9 per gallon. But that, ladies and gentleman, is a tale for another day.