Neal Anderson:
Neal was a child raised by aborigines of the NBA. We have no idea who his real parents were but we found him working on his 3-point shot on the side of a barn in ghettos of Missouri. We befriended because we knew we needed a thug on our side: Someone who could strike fear in the hearts of people.
After getting to know Neal a little more we were shocked to find out he was white. That is right, although his skillz that pay the billz would prove otherwise he is white. Chief Slim and Jason were in a wrestling match about whose tin can phone was better and Neal kept running up to them (while they were pinned) and smacking them on the head...It was the funniest thing to see.
But I am getting off track. He is baller of the group. Not quite the shot-caller (holler) nor does he ride an impala, but he has strong moral and keeps spirits high. We have deemed him the chef on the trip. So far we have eaten a lot of cereal and grilled cheese sandwich's (which are wonderfully delicious!).
When we asked him if he wanted to travel west with us he said..."Big gulps huh...sweet I'll come!" His ambitions include figuring out the probability we will survive this trip, starting a league called CBT (i hear he might get MadDog Tannen to make an appearance, maybe even Billy the Kid) finding a little lady to settle down with in hopes to create his own starting 5 basketball team and bringing water awareness across the great lands.
As this trip unfolds we hope many things from Neal besides his exquisite cooking talents and high morals, like a b-ball game with the natives where he drops 50pts. 15 ast. and 30 rbs. We would have to change his name to hot. Hi Hot how are you. His answers would come in the form of dribbles. 1-dribble yes, 2-dribbles no, cross-over maybe, behind the back I PITY THE FOO!
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