Wade: My oh my. Finally, training camp is here! You know, we had to work awful hard to get ready for this year, but finally we get to run out there and do some real daggum practicin’! It feels great! It’s just so nice to get back into the swing of things. This is what you live for, gosh darnit! Walking out there, smellin’ that fresh cut grass, hearing those shoulder pads poppin’. Yup, I reckon there’s no finer way to spend a summer afternoon.
Well, before we head on out there, maybe I should read the ol’ paper. Get caught up on the news of the day. Now, the boss man may not think reading the paper’s workin’, but I reckon it does any ball coach a bit a good to be up to date on world events. Let’s see what we got here.
Oh, shit oh shit oh shit oh shit. That was off the doggone record! Better hide this paper before anyone sees.
(locks paper in desk)
Phew! Now I just have to hope that…
(door flies open)
Jerry: YEEEEEEHAW!!!! YEE! HAW! YEE TO THE HAW! HAW TO THE YEE! YEE HAW, HEE HAW, KICK YOU IN THE GODDAMN JEW JAW!
Wade: Oh, man.
Jerry: BUENOS NACHOS, you big fucking cheesebleeder! Finishes up taking your mid-morning butterscotch bath, lardass?
Wade: I’m getting ready to hit the practice field, sir.
Jerry: I tell you, son. I’m not sure our field has enough drainage to handle the chicken grease pouring out of your skin! DRAINAGE, MY BOY! DRAAAAAINAGE!
Wade: I’ll do just fine, thank you sir.
Jerry: Whatever, Louie Anderson. Now, move away from that desk. I hide all my HUSTLER XXX issues in there, and it’s time for the ol’ Double-J to look at some interracial contraband pussy! MOVE IT! MOVE YOUR FUCKING BLOWHOLE, MOBY!
Wade: Sir, I don’t think there’s anything like that in this desk.
Jerry: Shut up shut up shut up. Move your orbital ass away from MY DESK! That’s my poppity, Tubgut. AND YOU DON’T FUCK WITH A TIXAS MAN’S POPPITY!
Wade: All right, all right. (moves)
Jerry: Let’s see what we got here. There they are! HOO DOGGIE! Look at that schoolgirl getting’ at both ends room from those two black guys. Man, are they black! It’s like shadow fucking! I’ve seen people drill oil, BUT I NEVER SAW OIL DRILL PEOPLE! SHOOT THAT BUBBLIN’ CRUDE, MY MAN!
Wade: Please, sir. This is very lewd material.
Jerry: Look at this one. Looks like he’s about to give the girl a lobotomy with that tree trunk of his. That’ll teach her to pass notes in class!
Wade: Well sir, I think you found what you were looking for. What don’t we just close that drawer right back up…
Jerry: Hold on there, Fattylicious. I see somethin’ else in that desk! Hey, it’s a newspaper! Keep your emergency fish and chips in here, do ya Arthur Treacher?!
Wade: No, I was just…
Jerry: What’s this? “COWBOYS’ COACH: ‘GET YOUR RING FINGER READY'”
Wade: Sir, I swear it was meant to be off the record.
Jerry: YOU STUPID, STUPID, STUPID, STUPID BIG FAT ASSHOLE! OFF THE RECORD?! I’D FUCKING STRANGLE YOU RIGHT HERE AND NOW IF I COULD FIND YOUR NECK! GET ME MY FLESHLIGHT! YOU FUCKING MUUMUU-WEARING, TITJIGGLING, JELLO-SNARFING GUNTFLAPPER!
Wade: Sir, it was something said in the middle of casual conversation.
Jerry: Oh, really? Did the reporter take you to Sonic again?! Yes, there’s no truth serum for ol’ Wade that works quite as well as a Sonic Gingerbread Blast! Drunk on fucking liquefied cake icing again, Asstrodome? God dammit, you are stupid. How’s my boy ROMO supposed to concentrate when he’s got his retard coach flapping his big fat beef-lips about winning a ring?!
Wade: It was just a misunderstanding, sir. It was off the record.
Jerry: I DECIDE WHAT’S ON OR OFF OF RECORDS HERE, LARDBUTT! And I’ll tell you one thing that is definitely on the record: You are fatter than the people in the airport terminal. Your big fat ass is gonna jinx us out of a goddamn SUPER BOWL, ONION RINGMASTER!
Wade: (start to cry) I’m sorry, sir.
Wade: (crying) I’m sorry, sir. I’m just so sorry. I was really excited for the season, and I was just so happy to be out there, and I didn’t mean it! I just want to go out there and coach! I was really looking forward to this and now I’m just so sad.
Jerry: Whoa, whoa, whoa. Now don’t go crying on me, fatass.
Wade: (crying) I’m sorry, sir. I’m just very sensitive sometimes.
Jerry: Come here. (puts arm around him) Shit, I’m sorry, fatty. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. The Double-J cares about people! I just want you to learn to think before you go opening up that porkstuffer of yers.
Wade: Yes, sir.
Jerry: Like I said, I apologize. You’re doin’ a damn fine job for the DALLAS FUCKING COWBOYS.
Wade: Thank you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted sometimes. Just some encouragement is all.
Jerry: I understand. I also understand we’re gonna have to do something to correct this.
(door flies open)
Pacman: Yo yo. No one say two bitches wit switches be goin’ at it up in dis shit. Pacman ain’t down wid it.
Jerry: Adam, did you bring the prod?
Pacman: Hyeah hyeah. Pacman’ll brand a bitch. Like we always do at Alpha Phi Alpha.
Wade: You’re branding me?
Jerry: Damn right, tubby! You got flesh to burn. SO THE DOUBLE-J’S GONNA BURN IT!
Wade: Wait… you can’t possibly…
(door flies open)
Garrett: Mmmm. Yes. Indeed. I have been told we were going to consecrate the bond of obedience?
Pacman: O hell yes. We gon giv dat bitch a mark. Make her go buc wild.
Wade: YOU CAN’T DO THIS! THIS IS ILLEGAL!
Jerry: Not on my POPPITY, it ain’t! Now drop those drawers, Buttercow! We got ourselves quite a canvas to work with!
Garrett: Indeed. Diego Rivera himself could not ask for a greater swath of blank whiteness. Oh, how this reminds me of my days at the eating club. Where we would EAT. And then DRINK. And then TORTURE.
Wade: Don’t do this.
Jerry: Shut up, cattle ass. You talk shit to the media, you git branded! Brand ‘em, boys!
Pacman: Woot woot. Let’s take dat bitch ta Sizzla.
Jerry: YEEEE HAWWWW! LOOK AT THAT ASS BURN! BIGGEST BARBECUE IN THE WHOLE DAMN STATE OF TIXAS! MAKE SURE YOU GET THAT MAN-HAM NICE AND CRISP! YEEHAW! WOOHOO! I AM FUCKING CRAZY!!!!
I want more like this!
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