(door flies open)

Jerry: FATASSSSSS! Where is that fatass?! JENNIFER!

Jennifer: Yes, Mr. Jones?

Jerry: Where is Tubby? Have you seen Tubby?

Jennifer: Tubby, sir?

Jerry: Yeah. Tubby. Fatass. Ol’ Puddin’ Tits. Fats Incredible. Chubby Pecker. Lardlubber. FUPA Fighter. Gigantoslob. Chunker. The USS Lusitania. THE FUCKING FAT FUCK THAT COST MY BOY ROMO A PLAYOFF SPOT! WHERE IS THAT FATASS?!

Jennifer: Oh, you mean Coach Phillips?

Jerry: YES! That guy! Where the fuck is he?!

Jennifer: I think he’s in the whirlpool, sir.

Jerry: The whirlpool?

Jennifer: Yes, sir. Said he was going to the whirlpool to relax.

Jerry: Oh, did he now? WHO SAID THAT FUCKING BLUE WHALE COULD BATHE ON MY DIME?! I WILL FUCKING GUT HIM LIKE A MULE! FATTTTTTY!!!!!

(meanwhile, at the whirlpool)

Wade: (in whirlpool, listening to iPod, eating sub sandwich, singing)
Whoo-ee! Ride me high
Tomorrow’s the day
My bride’s gonna come
Oh, oh, are we gonna fly
Down in the easy chair!

(door flies open)

Jerry: WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING IN MY WHIRLPOOL, HUMPBACK WADE?

Wade: (takes off headphones) I’m sorry. I can’t hear you over the music there, Sir.

Jerry: You get outta that tub NOW, MR. BUBBLE! I don’t care if we need a towel the size of Indiana to cover your fat ass! WHO THE FUCK SAID YOU COULD RELAX?! AND GIT THAT GODDAMN SANDWICH OUTTA THERE!

Wade: Welp, season’s over. Thought I’d just chill out for a second.

Jerry: Oh, did you now! YOU FUCKING FATASS! My gorgeous team is going down the shitter AND IT’S ALL YOUR BIG FAT FAULT!

Wade: So fire me, then.

Jerry: What?

Wade: Fire me. Don’t matter to me. See, I learned something this year, Mr. Jones. And that, as head coaches go, I’m not very good. I’m just not. I make a damn fine defensive coordinator. But I’m just not head coaching material. And you know what? That’s all right. I’m fine with that. Not everyone is comfortable at the top. I tried my best, and darn it if it wasn’t good enough. But I’m not gonna beat myself up over it. It’s just another thing to learn in life. And there you have it. So go ahead. Fire me. There are gonna be eight new coaches out there looking for defensive help, maybe more, and I’ll be glad to hop on board with them. Now, if you’ll excuse me… (puts on headphones)

Whoo-ee! Ride me high
Tomorrow’s the day
My bride’s gonna come
Whoo-ee! Are we gonna fly
Down in the easy chair!

Jerry: YOU FAT DISGUSTING PIG! YOU’RE NOT GONNA RIDE HIGH, OR FLY, OR GO DOWN ON ANY FUCKING EASY CHAIR! I’m not gonna fire your fat ass, Frankenberry!

Wade: No?

Jerry: Oh, no. You got us into this mess, NOW YOU’RE GONNA GIT US OUT! I will keep you here FOREVER, Fatty! I’ll make sure they bake a fresh pan of cream cheese brownies in the kitchen every day. YOU’LL NEVER FIT OUT OUR DOOR, FATSTORM!

Wade: That’s another thing, Mr. Jones. You can all me all the names you like. But I don’t really care. I enjoy food. I enjoy life. And I CAN walk out that door. You watch me.

(gets out of pool)

Jerry: OH, JESUS CHRIST! IT’S LIKE THERE’S AN GIANT AVALANCHE OF COOL WHIP COMING AT ME WITH A LITTLE KIDDIE DICK ATTACHED TO IT!

(door flies open)

Pacman: Yo yo. Pacman hurr fo da pool pardee. Wat diz phat gurrl doin up in dis bizz? Pacman ain’t down wid it. Pacman ain’t go for dem eggplantz. DAT 2 MUCH PUSSY. Pacman gots da reel bubblez fo dat bath…

OH SHIT! Pacman git wid dat! Pacman gon shine. He gon mak hurr drank from dat luvhose. OH SHE GON DRANK. Pacman say ain’t no drank drank till dat bitch git wet. He gon mak dat azz cry. He gon BLOW DAT AZZ UP. 4rilly. HE GON DAYG DAT TUNNL. He gon turn dat fuk on.

And Pacman gon drank. Oh, he gon drank. U THANK HE AIN’T GON DRANK? HE GON DRANK. Pacman say seezon’s ovah, so he can go bust dat puzzy till da red meat showz. CHUH CHUH.

Jerry: You fucking fumbling piece of shit! I HIRED YOU TO SCORE DEION-STYLE TD’S, NOT FUMBLE THE BALL LIKE SOME KANSAS CITY FAGGOT!

Pacman: Pacman jus tryn ta shine.

Jerry: YOU DON’T SHINE FOR SHIT, ASSHOLE! YOU’RE ABOUT AS SHINY AS A DEAD WOMAN’S TIT! (turns to Wade) You better git this asshole BACK IN LINE, you big naked tub of shit!

(door flies open)

Garrett: Oh, Good Heavens! I’ve seen the Hideous Beast without his protective layering! Avert your eyes, all! Or he shall consume us all with his ghastly pseudopods!

Jerry: You fucking Ivy League cocksucker!

Garrett: What? Who? Me? Surely you jest! This is a good jesting, yes?

Jerry: NO! Didn’t I tell you my boy ROMO was a star?

Garrett: I believe you told Melville’s White Whale over there on more than one occ…

Jerry: HE’S A GODDAMN STAR! And you’re ruining him! We went up to Philly and got the tar beaten out of us by a bunch of SANDWICH-EATING YANKEE FAGGOTASSES!

Garrett: Oh, Mr. Jones. The problem is far more complex than you grasp, I fear! For we had the perfect game architecture in place for victory! A dazzling rainbow of swing passes to Tashard Choice, EACH MORE STUNNING THAN THE LAST! And then, almost clandestinely, A JUPITER-LIKE STRIKE TO WITTEN! And then, we were all going to sit down for a good, civilized EATING! It was a plan that would make even Churchill himself blush with envy! Alas, the execution…

Wade: Oh, quit blaming everyone but yourself, you ginger-faced asshole.

Garrett: Excuse me, good Sir? It’s difficult to hear you with YOUR NAKED, DRIBBLING MASS CONFRONTING US ALL!

Wade: He doesn’t even care, Mr. Jones. He’s going to Detroit.

Garrett: What? Why… Harumph! How dare you question my loyalty, sir! You, good sir, are a CRUMB BUM! There, I said it! YOU ARE NOTHING MORE THAN A CRUMB BUM!

Jerry: You’re not going to Detroit, you freckle-faced queerbait! Not after what I paid to keep your sorry ass here!

(door is weakly opened with least amount of possible effort)

Roy Williams: What? Huh? What’s going on? Why’s Coach all nude?

Jerry: YOU LAZY SACK OF SHIT! YOU’D SHORT ARM A BABY IF A GYPSY THREW IT TO YOU!

Roy Williams: Whatever, man. I got a text message.

(leaves)

Jerry: GAHHHHH! I’M SURROUNDED BY NOTHING BUT FUCKUPS! You’re all fucking ruining my gorgeous team! This is the fucking pride of TIXAS, and all of you have DISGRACED THE GODDAMN STAR! I will fucking kill you all! Starting with YOU, Fatty! (comes at Wade)

Wade: I don’t think so, Mr. Jones. MARION!

(door gets stiff-armed off its hinges)

MBIII: JERRY JONES! WHERE YOU AT, MOTHERFUCKER!

Jerry: I’m right here, Barber! I’m not scared of you one bit!

MBIII: No? (puts Jerry in a chicken wing hold) HOW ABOUT NOW, MOTHERFUCKER?!

Jerry: OW! FUCK!

MBIII: Jerry Jones, you conscious, MOTHERFUCKER?! Cause Marion Barber got something to say to YOUR ASS! CAN YOU HEAR ME, BITCH?

Jerry: I could hear you better if you let go there, buddy!

MBIII: I AIN’T LETTIN’ GO OF SHIT! You listen to me and you listen good, you motherfucking MOTHERFUCKER! I seen this team all year long, asshole. And the person who fucked this all up is YOUR SORRY RAZORBLACK ASS. Fuckin’ Jerry Jones. Has to bring in every goddamn big named motherfucker he can find off the street. JERRY’S GOTS TO HAVE HIS TOYS! MARION BARBER WANTS TEAMMATES THAT WANT TO PLAY FOOTBALL, BITCH!

Jerry: Fool! I gave you all Tank Williams!

MBIII: TANK WILLIAMS DON’T PLAY FOR SHIT! MOTHERFUCKER BRINGS GI JOE DOLLS INTO THE HUDDLE!

Wade: I was not aware of that.

MBIII: Shut up, naked Fat Ass!

Wade: You got it.

MBIII: You listen to me, Jerry Jones. Marion Barber says YOU THE MOTHERFUCKER who needs to clean this mess up. YOU are the problem. I am TIRED, Jerry Jones. I am tired of hearing every goddamn excuse from every goddamn player on this team. YOU WILL FUCKING FIND ME SOME BETTER TEAMMATES, OR MARION BARBER WILL FUCKING SHOVE A LEAFBLOWER UP YOUR REDNECK ASS AND TURN IT ON. YOU READ ME, ASSHOLE?

Jerry: Yes, Sir!

MBIII: And get Roy Williams out of here. HE DOES NOTHING, MOTHERFUCKER!

(leaves)

Jerry: Well, um… You heard the man! Get to work, ALL OF YOU!

Wade: All due respect, Mr. Jones, I think I’m gonna go home.

Jerry: Oh, really?

Wade: Yes. Really. I got an easy chair to fly into. And it sounds like you got a lot on your plate. Or would you like me to call Marion again?

Jerry: Why, you… I… you should… FAT! YOU’RE FAT! YOU’RE FUCKING FAT!

Wade: AND I’M FUCKING CRAZY TOO! YEEEEEHAW!

Jerry: GOD DAMMIT, THAT ISN’T HOW YOU SAY IT!

Wade: I’ll see you after the holiday, Mr. Jones. I won’t be in until Monday. Garrett can handle anything you need until then.

Garrett: What? But Bunny, the kids and I were going to Nantucket!

Jerry: Save it, shithead. YOU AIN’T GOIN’ NOWHERE.

Wade: (walks out) Ain’t that the truth.