"Oh , ma petite fleur . Il est si bon de vous voir une fois de plus . Vous l' ge comme le bon vin ."
"Who are you? Get out of my house!" "Calm down, Maxwell. I know who he is." Williams eyes lazily traced the outline of the man before him. It was the physique of a man he knew well; perhaps too well. He had spent too many nights laying awake and staring at the ceiling waiting for the day this son of a bitch would show his face.
"Wirth. It's been awhile." He shuddered remembering everything Wirth had done for him; and too him. The pain and ecstasy came back into his body, unable to mix like oil and water; a terrible turmoil. "I'm guessing this-" he motioned towards the basketball "is what you are here for." "Yes...I wish I had came back under better circumstances but..." "Shut the fuck up! Shut the fuck up! What business do you have to come find me?"
Mr. Sheffield, up until that point had been listening quietly but couldn't remain silent any longer. "Mr. King, I want to know what this man is doing here now! I've got a production going on Broadway in 24 hours and the last thing I need is some...some hooligan bursting into my home and disrupting my affairs!"
What the man had to say made Mr. Sheffield and William silent.
"It's the Monstars. They came back. For one final game. That ball is the B-Ball used in the original Space Jam. I've come for it and I've come for you, Will."
"Take your fucking ball and go home. I swore on the court, in the blood of the ballers we lost, that I would never play another god damn game." William grabbed the ball off Mr. Sheffields desk and threw it to Wirth. "This isn't the time to bring up old shit, Will. We took them on once and we will take them on again." "The past? You wanna talk about the past, Wirth? You've spent the last 20 years in the god damn past! We're not young anymore! Balling is a young mans game. We can't hustle the court like we used to; we can't dunk like we don't give a fuck anymore. You go find yourself some fresh meat; some young knuckleheads who don't know shit about shit and teach them the game."
"Don't go out like a bitch, man! You think I don't know my game is gone? I see...I see young niggas on the court who take my breath away. They jive me, they bob and weave around me like I'm a fucking pole in the ground. Every game I play takes more out of me, takes a little bit of my life away! I do it, not because I want to but because I need to. The air in this ball runs in my veins as strong as it ever did, like it does in you."