It was the biggest game of the season: Neon Night at the University at Albany. The arena was packed with students dressed in fluorescent shirts and glow sticks, the court bathed in blacklight. Every dunk, every pass, every cheer lit up in a psychedelic spectacle.

Chad “Buckets” Brody, star forward and self-proclaimed king of campus, was hyped. He’d spent the pregame hyping himself up in the locker room mirror, flexing and muttering, “MVP tonight, baby. MVP.”

But Chad had made one crucial error that morning. Somewhere between laundry day and his last Amazon shopping spree, he’d unknowingly grabbed a pair of glow-in-the-dark boxer briefs. Neon green. With flames.

The first half was uneventful—by Chad’s standards. A few three-pointers, a monster dunk, some chest bumps with his teammates. But then, midway through the second half, disaster struck.

After diving for a loose ball, Chad skidded across the court, landing on his back. The crowd roared. Not for the hustle, though.

For the glow.

His shorts had slid up just enough for the entire arena to catch a glimpse of his radioactive green boxers. Under the blacklight, they lit up like a disco ball.

The crowd exploded in laughter.

“Yo, Chad!” someone yelled from the student section. “Your underwear’s on fire, bro!”

Chad glanced down and froze. His neon boxers glowed brighter than the scoreboard.

“Time out!” Coach bellowed, his face somewhere between fury and hysterics.

Chad sprinted to the bench, tugging his shorts down as far as they’d go. His teammates were doubled over. “Dude, you’re a walking highlighter!” one of them wheezed.

The announcer couldn’t resist. “And it seems Chad Brody is lighting up the court in more ways than one tonight!”

Chad groaned, burying his face in a towel. “This is it. My career’s over. They’re gonna call me Glow Bro forever.”

But then something unexpected happened. The crowd started chanting.

“Glow Bro! Glow Bro! Glow Bro!”

The chant grew louder, and soon the entire arena was on its feet. Chad peeked out from behind the towel, confused.

“Get back out there!” Coach barked, barely hiding a grin. “Give ’em a show.”

Chad hesitated, then stood. The crowd erupted again.

He jogged back onto the court, his neon boxers still faintly glowing despite his best efforts to tuck them away. With every play, the crowd cheered louder. By the time he landed a game-winning alley-oop, the chant was deafening.

“Glow Bro! Glow Bro! Glow Bro!”

Later that night, Chad scrolled through the dozens of memes already flooding social media. His glowing boxers had gone viral. Someone had even edited flames shooting out of them mid-dunk.

He sighed, shaking his head.

“Glow Bro,” he muttered, a reluctant smile creeping onto his face. “Could be worse.”

And from that day on, Chad embraced his new title. The next game, he wore a custom headband with “Glow Bro” stitched in neon thread. Because if you’re gonna be a walking punchline, you might as well own it.