Big Nate by Lincoln Peirce for November 27, 2016

Transcript:

Boy: Hey, look who I get to guard! Where's the rest of you, squirt? Boy: Huh? What's this? Letter from Nate: Hello, I am your opponent for today's game. I cannot communicate with you verbally because our coach doesn't allow us to trash talk. So I will not be telling you that your jump shot looks like a cat coughing up a hairball, or that an armless Ken doll has better ball-handling skills than you do, even though both statements are true. Nor will I mention that, having hacked into your school's acedemic records, I now know that you're not bright enough to understand most of what I say, anyway. In fact while you've been busy trying to read this note, I have dribbled into the corner, from where I am about to launch and uncontested 3-point shot. *Swish* Nate: I can't talk to you, but I think your coach might want to.