Vick: Oh, man.

Oh, Christ.

Holy smoke. Holy, holy, holiest of smokes.

I am fucking STONED like Betty Ford. Holy shit. I feel so relaxed. I feel like just sinking down and letting the air wash over me. So nice. So very, very nice. Where’s that picture of Rihanna I keep in my pocket?


Oh, girl. There you is. Did you miss me? I missed you, too. Say something to me, baby. I can keep a secret.

(unzips pants)

You miss this? You miss MV7’s MX missile? They don’t call it the peacemaker for nothin’, baby. You’re gonna need that umbrella ella ella of yours. ‘Cause it’s about to rain little Vickpoles!

(starts furiously masturbating)

Oh, God. Oh God, girl. I am gonna come so fucking hard…


Judge: MR. VICK!

Vick: Oh snap! It’s Inspector Todd haunting my dreams again!

Judge: Mr. Vick, you are in my courtroom! Pull your pants back up and stand before me!

Vick: Oh shit! Goddamn, Mister Wapner Man, you scared the shit outta me. What the fuck? Where’s the Doug Llewelyn guy? That guy’s got some big hair and shit. Ha ha! Fucking WASPfro!

Judge: Mr. Vick, in light of your incredibly inappropriate conduct, and the fact that you have shown no genuine remorse over what you did, I see no choice but to sentence you to 23 months in Federal prison.

Vick: 23 MONTHS?! Whoa whoa whoa. That’s like… half a year! What the fuck, man?!

Judge: It’s two years, Mr. Vick. Plenty of time for you to stare at that picture.

Vick: Hold up, yo. Hold the fuck up. Two years? BUT I’M STONED! Don’t you get it? This is the fucking Elder Bud, man. I ain’t ever comin’ down! Why not give me two days? That’s just like two years in Weed Standard Time! Or can’t I just play some dice there for an afternoon or something? Or what if I taught prisoners how to read? How hard can that be? All I have to do is learn to read!

Judge: Get out of my courtroom, Mr. Vick.

Vick: Wait! You can’t do this to me! No one’s given me the recipe for butthash yet! C’mon, Mister Wapner Man! I thought we were boys and shit! THIS IS SOME BULLSHIT! I was framed! Roddy White did it!

(Vick is escorted out)

YOU CAN’T DO THIS SHIT TO ME! HOW THE FUCK WILL I LIVE IN PRISON? I NEED MY ROCK GARDEN! Whoa whoa whoa, look! It’s a TV! Hey, that’s Mr. Home Depot Man!

Blank: If Michael eats lots of fried chicken and fries while in prison and comes out 290 lbs…

Vick: What the fuck did he just say? Did Mister Home Depot Man just say what I think he said?

They got fried chicken in prison?

And fries?

Holy shit.

HOLY FUCKING SHIT, THAT IS AWESOME!

I didn’t know that. All I saw at the buffet last week was chicken Kiev! God, I’m so fucking stoned right now. I would fucking kill for some fried chicken. Do they marinate it in buttermilk overnight? Oh my God. So crispy. So crunchy. So tender. Sometimes, there’s that little fried bit on the end of the thigh that is just… FUCK! And fries? Like shoestrings? None of that thickass steak fry shit? Fuck me, that sounds good. You’re telling me I can eat that for two years and only weigh 290?

This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

Get my ass back to jail!

(phone buzzes)

Who the fuck is this? A text message?

FROM B. PETRINO: GOIN 2 ARKANSAS. L8R G8R!

Fuckin’ spam texts. Rihanna, you and me are eatin’ good tonight!

Photo courtesy of The Onion.