(Here at Fear The Sword, we're committed to providing you with the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. So naturally, we're going to create our own sequence of events that are utterly false and irrelevant to the actual events of things that occurred. This will be entirely based on what has been reported via absurd Internet-based narratives, patently speculative insanity, and overly simplistic equivocations without fact. Oh, and other totally made up stuff.)

C.J. Miles: Man, I don't know what happened. It just got so...real.

Jarrett Jack: If you would have told me eight years ago when I hosted C.J.'s Georgia Tech visit that I'd be trying to help him stop two kids barely of drinking age from killing each other in 2013, I would have just told you I'm too old for this shit.

Tyler Zeller: It all started when Kyrie asked MB to leave the room.

Kyrie Irving: I really thought that we needed to hash some stuff out as men. So I did the only thing I could think of at the time: elect Georgetown grad Henry Sims as team judge, and have him preside over our team meeting as if it was a court room.

Henry "Hank" Sims: Man, I just got here like two months ago. I don't know what the hell Kyrie was thinking. But there I was, in a black gown and with Dion's toy gavel presiding over a team meeting like it was a murder trial or something. I thought at first he was hazing the rookie.

Miles: Yeah...that's probably where the problems began. When Kyrie told Henry to take Dion's toy gavel out of his bag and use it to start a meeting, Dion got that bug-eyed look like he was about to snap. Kyrie told me everything would be fine and that Dion would be cool with it. "Geez, C.J., it's only a toy gavel," is exactly what he said to me. Oh how wrong he was.

Irving: I thought it would be fine. Me and Dion are close. It's a toy gavel.

Matthew Dellavedova: I remembah that meh fellow Aussie Kyrie got up n' stahted talkin' 'bout 'ow the team needed to band togetha' in orda' to make the season a success. 'E was also wearin' a sweata' that was lookin' kinda' ridiculous, mate.

Miles: It was a Bill Cosby sweater. Kyrie got changed out of his jersey, and tried to have a serious conversation in a Cosby sweater. My man tried to rationalize it, but there was really no circumstance where he was going to be taken seriously.

Jack: As soon as Kyrie started speaking and said the phrase "band together," Earl Clark just randomly got up and started rapping the lyrics to 'Bandz A Make Her Dance" by Juicy J. It's like he thought the whole thing was a joke.

Sims: As soon as Earl got up and started rapping, I understood why Kyrie had given me the toy gavel. Unfortunately, this gavel also squeaked upon me hitting the bench, so my authority was fairly compromised.

The Meeting

(Luckily, the Minnesota Timberwolves not only had SportVU cameras installed in the rafters of the actual basketball court, but also in their locker rooms in order to track movement of the press. The next portion of this is a word-for-word totally false transcript of the proceedings.)

Irving: Come on Earl, let's get real here. Sit down so we can talk about what just happened on the floor out there. Henry, can you get his attention?

Sims: Ky, you gave me a ****ing squeaky toy, what the hell do you want me to do?

Clark: "Racks errwhere, they showin' racks, I'm throwin' racks."

Zeller: Guys, come on. I'm over here trying to study for the GMAT, can we quiet it down a little bit?

Alonzo Gee: Did somebody say "GEE-MAT?!"

Zeller: Dammit, Alonzo, not with the puns again.

Jack: Hey guys, should somebody try to conference dial Bynum in?

(ringing)

Andrew what's going on, we just thought you should be involved in a little players only meeting we're....hello? Andrew?

(Bynum relayed to me later that within the first three seconds of being on the phone with Jack, he knew that something about this meeting was off. He felt that his reputation had taken enough of a beating in the past 12 months, and chose to quietly abstain from a potential issue.)

Tristan Thompson: Guys, can you all please just quiet down and listen to Kyrie? ANTHONY! STOP EATING! Just because your city's mayor is Rob Ford doesn't mean you have to show your support for him by weighing the same that he does!

Anthony Bennett: I CAN ONLY APOLOGIZE SO MANY TIMES FOR MY PAST TRANSGRESSIONS!

Thompson: STOP QUOTING HIM TOO!

Irving: Well, this is pretty much a disaster.

Dion Waiters: WHY THE HELL DOES HENRY HAVE MY GAVEL?!

Irving: Oh, here we go again...

Clark: "Money talk, you ain't got none, end of discussion" (points menacingly at Dellavedova)

Waiters: After I saw Pulp Fiction, my mother gave that gavel to me as a birthday present. She told me to use that gavel as a form of justice just as Jules Winnfield did. I have even created my own form of the bible quote that he uses: "The path of the righteous baller is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil point guards..."

Anderson Varejao: Geez, can we all just calm down a little bit. Take it from the Brazilian in the room, mellowing out is the much better solution.

Gee: Did someone say my name?

Everyone (except Waiters): NO ALONZO!

Waiters: Blessed is the shooting guard who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the forwards through the valley of the post, for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost ballers. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy MY TEAMMATES. And you will know I am the MAMBA when I lay MY CROSSOVER upon you."

Irving: What was that, Dion?

Waiters: SAY WHAT AGAIN, KYRIE. SAY WHAT AGAIN. I DARE YOU, I DOUBLE DARE YOU. SAY WHAT ONE MORE GOD DAMNED TIME.

Irving: No seriously, I have no idea what you're talking about.

(It is at this point in the proceedings where Waiters leaped across the locker room and attacked Irving, landing two punches to the face before Miles and Jack intervened in order to stop the bloodshed. Sergey Karasev looked on in horror as he sipped from his bottle of Stoli)

Karasev: IN SOVIET RUSSIA, SHOOTING GUARD MORE IMPORTANT THAN POINT GUARD. DION WIN.

(Thompson stood up and took control of the squeaky gavel from Sims)

Thompson: Okay guys break it up. (bangs squeaky gavel) Dammit, Henry, this thing really does compromise your authority.

Sims: Right?!

The Aftermath

(Someone within the Timberwolves inner circle of security realized what was happening in the locker room, and cut the feed off from the cameras. The rest of what happened are the first-hand accounts of the aftermath of the meeting that I just made up.)

Irving: It's like Dion had totally forgotten that not two hours earlier I had to get X-rays after Corey Brewer elbowed me square in the nose. But mostly I was just really angry that Dion had ruined my favorite sweater.

Dellavedova: Not gonna' lie, I think Dion did Kyrie a fava' by ruinin' that sweata'.

Thompson: What Dion did was wrong, but Kyrie did say what again, so we can't really say he wasn't warned.

Varejao: I'm so sick of all this bad mojo in the locker room. We gotta get these guys under control so that Gilbert doesn't ship me off. Seriously, do you understand how easy it is for me to get ladies in Cleveland? The women love me! Crap, I'm married now, I can't say that. Never mind.

Clark: What are you guy talking about? There was a fight? STOP TRYING TO CREATE STORIES OUT OF NOTHING, MEDIA.

(Miles leans over to Clark and relays what had happened just 20 hours earlier in his presence)

Oh...uhh... well, "we in first place, we in first place, bad..."

(Miles again leans over and informs Clark that they are not actually in first place)

Dammit, why do I miss all the fun stuff?

Waiters (over the phone): Did I go too far? Maybe. But nobody messes with my gavel and gets away with it. Also, someone on this team is (cough) clearly sick because (cough) I have the worst head cold right now and I had to (cough) have gotten it from someone (sneeze).

Jack: Dion's not actually sick.

Miles: If Dion is actually sick, then I'm the Queen of Russia riding around the country in a jeep.

Gee: Did someone say Gee-p?

Irving: God dammit, Alonzo.