Hahahaha I don't want your stupid howls anyways. I am taking my ball(s) and going home!

Ok just kidding. This is a great idea and I like where its going. We should collectively continue this on as a group.

So Mr. CYOA Nazi - are their any rules or just that anyone can continue the story at any time? They should try to follow the example you set in your last post.

College Wolf wrote:
Good. Go then. See if I care.

....

Mooooooooommmm

College Wolf wrote:
Rules

1. End your story with a Choice
2. Start your story by going down the road of one of the last guys choices

I'm guessing "You" shouldn't continue on as McFoyo because that is just fairly unwieldy.

Unless I hear otherwise I'll make a new (and likely very open ended) post as McHale before lunch (1 hr) unless someone takes this in a different direction.

Timberwolves: 26 seconds or less
The Story of how a moribund franchise tried to pull itself back from the abyss.

You rub your temples. As the GM of the team your were sure this year was supposed to be different. Last year you went through hell with a roster of half young guys, have deadbeats with bloated contracts. This year through your genius the glut was cleared... the young guys were ready. This team was going to stay in the playoff hunt at least until the all-star break.

It hasn't happened. You've lost and you've done it to bad teams. The owner, Glen Taylor, has called an emergency meeting in 15 minutes because he can't stand this.

If you decide that whatever solutions you can come up with in the next 14 minutes aren't going to be good enough so you email up an excuse to push the meeting back while you think turn to Page 15.

If you have a plan and you can't wait to deliver it turn to Page 117.

Dangit, I wish I wasn't so busy today... this is gonna be good. Well done Pants for starting it. Howl for you.

Boy, I guess I need to buy a CYOA book to see what this is all about. I have no idea what turn to page 117 means? When my kids were little we didn't have books. We had to go outside and read petroglyphs. CYOA meant something quite different back then as well. I will give it a shot, though, but will have to observe and learn first.

Page 15.

Utilizing your self-termed "Small Area Quickness", you quickly scoot from your in-office trophy case and sit at your refurbished Compaq laptop. Clutching an Aquafina water, you type to Glen Taylor that you have to sit in on a conference call with divisional general managers and cannot meet until 3:00 PM which is 4 hours from now. "Safe at last" you whisper to yourself.

Suddenly feeling your morning Starbucks and Fiber One bar kick in, you get the urgency to toss a loaf. Again, mentally appreciating your innate small area quickness, you walk hastily to the men's room. Before you go, wanting to brush up on history, you grab the 1993 Minnesota DNR Hunting and Fishing Regulation Handbook and tuck it under your arm snug against your brand new Eddie Bauer sweater. Approaching the bowl and quickly rounding the corner, you nearly run smack into Fred Hoiberg who has a hurried expression on his face. Confused and prairie-doggin it, you are flabbergasted at how to react in this situation.

If you want to hold it in and, with your extra time before your meeting with Glen Taylor, invite Fred to NBA City for a quick "Fast Break Lunch"- turn to page 21

To give Fred a 2 fingered wave and go about your "business," turn to page 67

Page 67

Making it to the fortress of solitude before dead eye Freddie was the coup of the day. Fred would now be forced to put a out of order sign on the ladies room. The last time Fred had a date with fate this badly was when he was riding the elevator after draft day. He still doesn't remember what he said to the reporters.

Anyway you finally have the opportunity to help Coach Wittman decide the starting lineup for the Portland game. As the better part of your personality departs from your body you suddenly come up with a strategy to convince the fans you can turn this ship around.

Suddenly without warning, the automatic aresol room deoderizor goes off waking you from a hard nap. What? It's 2:30 already and I barely have time to wash up and get to the meeting.

If you want to look into the toilet for inspiration for you next starting line up turn to page 63.

If you want to tap your foot on the wall between your restroom and the ladies room Fred is in turn to page 107

Page 63


You stare long and hard into the mystical Oracle's cup, and whether by folly or fancy, brilliant ideas are suddenly popping into your head. "Trade Rashad McCants." "Need a Defensive Center." "Play Kevin Love 30+ minutes per night." "Trade for Gerald Wallace." "Tank the season, win the lottery, and draft Ricky Rubio." You continue to gaze at the brownish-greenish concoction, and before long you know what you must do to achieve victory tomorrow night. Your number two is speaking to you. Start Telfair/Brewer/Gomes/Big AL/Maddog. You know that lineup will be able to score and play defense. Even better, your reserves can come in as instant offense, and never let off the clutch. McFoye at the guard positions, Skinny Miller at SF, Love at PF, and someone else at Center. (You don't know who our backup center is yet, but you realize 9 out of 10 positions ain't bad.)

Suddenly beaming with confidence and ready to meet with Taylor, you turn to open the door... and it won't budge! Oh no?!? You are going to be late for the meeting! Glen is going to think you skipped it and he'll never believe your excuse! It's 2:59 PM. Now what do you do?


If you pound on the door until someone finally lets you out, and then you hustle to Taylor's office to meet with him (but you are late), turn to page 12.

If you pound on the door until someone finally lets you out, and then call Taylor with an excuse to FURTHER delay the meeting while you think of a valid excuse and/or other options for tomorrow, turn to page 90.

If you dejectedly stay in the bathroom until someone comes to find you, turn to page 54.

I screwed up. This story started out from McHales perspective. I somehow magically changed hin into Wittman. CW then changed him back into Kevin. Oh well this is fiction which means it hasn't happened yet.
I can't wait to see what happens next. Gruncion?

Page 54

You slump back on the cold, unforgiving porcelain. You think of three things. First that your as good as fired, second is Glen's panties will be throughly bunched when he sees I've put the stall seat up, and the third is that it really sucks when you sit down on a toilet with the seat up.

Having your undercarriage throughly soaked it kick starts the cogs in your brain. You pull out the dog whistle you keep in the secret pocket you have sewn into all your sweaters and blow as hard as you can.

Freddie pops his head in the door. "What can I do ya for boss."

Your free... and you aren't free. The death march to the boss's office begins. You with wet pants, Fred with stinky pants (he hadn't wiped pre-whistle response)... it is time to lay it on the line.

If you lead the meeting with "Tank for Rubio" go to Page 32

If you lead the meeting with "Trade for Gerald Wallace" go to Page 93

If you pull something else out of your ass go page 2

---

Note here: (and I'm looking at CW)... try not to actually give an indication of what will happen based on your choice when you give choices.
~CYOA N

mmaland wrote:
There, I fixed it for you. Story is good again.

Finally having run out of excuses for dealying the meeting, you and Fred finally walk through the swinging bar doors of Glens office. You notice a Dekalb Feeds clock on the will above Glens desk. It only has a minute hand on it. Behind his desk is a large chart with a graph on it that looks like a lightning strike in Hibbing. On Glens desk is a hardbound copy of " The Blueprint for the Future." Glen is sitting with one hand under his chin and the other on top of his head. You have no idea why.

"What is that awful smell"? Glen asks as you and Fred stand sheepishly in front of him.

"Global warming" Fred replies, saying the first thing that pops into his head.

"Why is your butt wet"? he suddenly asks you

"New deoderant" you reply in you best authoritive voice as if explaining the obvious. "My pits are completely dry, though."


If you wish to continue by explaining your revised plan in your fast rambling midwestern accent, repeating the same thoughts over and over again in different ways turn to page 67

If Fred begins talking first turn to page 95

If you all 3 decide to go to "Keys" for omelets turn to page 102

67

Glen looks you in the eye saying, "What happened?" You and Fred shoot each other knowing glances. In-sync you say, "Wittman" and Fred says "McHa---Wittman--yeah-Wittman".

Glen asks you if you are saying you have it in your mind to revoke Wittman's country club membership. With a heavy heart you say, "yes".

You can feel a bead of sweat rolling from your head to your back to your soggy pantalones. The owner isn't saying anything, he is just sitting at his desk glaring both you and Fred down.

If you tell excuse yourself saying you are off to grab a Chicken Pot Pie at Peter's grill with Mitt Romney and Rashad McCants turn to page 113.

If you decide to tell Glen who he should hire as his next coach turn to page 115.