Wade: Oh, SHIT. Shit shit shit shit shit. I am FUCKED. I mean, I’ve been fucked before. I’ve been beaten, branded, tickled, raped, spanked, and fired 339 times now. But I am definitely fucked this time round. WHAT DO I DO?!
You know what, ol’ Wade? You’re screwed anyhow. I’m tired. I’m tired of going apeshit trying to put out fires I got no chance of extinguishin’. You know what? FUCK IT. I’mma have some Oreos.
Mmm. I tell you, ain’t nothin’ finer than a good stack of Oreos. You come through that door, Jerry Jones. You’re not gonna stop me from enjoyin’ a well-earned treat.
(door flies open)
Jerry: WHERE IS THAT FAT FUCK?! PHILLIPS?! DON’T YOU TRY AND HIDE FROM ME, CHOKOZUNA! I can smell the hoagie dressing bursting out of your pores! You think you can choke away a ten point lead in seven minutes and then avoid THE ARKINSAW ASSPOUNDER?! Git your fat, drooping ass out here now, Brando! Here fatty fatty fatty! Here fatty fatty fatty!
Wait… what the… Why, you ain’t hidin’! YOU GOT YOUR FEET ON YOUR DESK AND YOUR STUFFING YOUR FACE WITH COOKIES ON MY TIME, YOU FUCKING HOT AIR BALLOON!
Jerry: You sure as SHIT better have a good explanation for this, Beastula! Did you see my boy ROMO out there against those Pittsburgh faggots? HE’S A STAR! AND YOUR FAT ASS MADE HIM LOOK THE FOOL!
Wade: Well, that was clearly Garrett’s fault.
Wade: Hey, I did MY job. The D held those darn Steelers down. Why don’t you ask ol’ PRINCETON BOY why he dang offense didn’t move an inch!
Jerry: Well, I… you fat… I’m so GODDAMN… YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE COWERING IN FEAR RIGHT NOW, SCRAPPLE MARTIN!
Wade: Well, I ain’t. I’m tired, Jerry Jones. I’m tired of sittin’ here having everyone shit on ol’ Wade. High time Wade did some backstabbin’ of his own!
Jerry: Oh, is that so? WELL IT DON’T WORK THAT WAY, TUBBY! NOW YOU OPEN UP THOSE BIG FAT SHIT-PLUGGED EARS OF YOURS AND YOU LISTEN TO ME…
(door gets smashed into 3,000 very small pieces)
MBIII: JERRY JONES! JERRY GODDAMN JONES!
Jerry: Oh, FUCK! (hides behind Wade) Don’t move, fatass. You just sit there and eclipse me the way you do the sun, and other heavenly bodies.
MBIII: Jerry Jones, you can’t hide from me, MOTHERFUCKER! Y’all better move out of the way, Coach P. ‘Cause I’mma make caramel outta that wrappin’ paper-faced motherfucker! MOTHERFUCKER, GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE AND FACE THE MUSIC!
Jerry: (comes out) Marion! Marion, my boy! Can I git you anything? Complimentary beverage? Hot stewardess that’ll fuck you blind?
MBIII: Gimme your toe, MOTHERFUCKER!
(takes Jerry’s toe, dislocates it)
MBIII: Oh, I’m sorry. DID YOU FEEL A PINCH THERE, MOTHERFUCKER?! FUCKING HURTS, DUDN’T IT?!
Jerry: (wincing) Ain’t nuthin’ the ol’ Double-J can’t handle!
MBIII: (twists toe) Oh really, MOTHERFUCKER?!
MBIII: Try and sit in on your board meeting with THAT, ASSHOLE! You still think I’m soft, motherfucker?
MBIII: (twists toe) I CAN’T HEAR YOU, CRACKA!
MBIII: See now, that surprises me, seein’ as how you thought Marion Barber had pussied out of that game Sunday. YOU STILL THINK I PUSSIED OUT, YOU FUCKING HICK SACK OF SHIT?
MBIII: That’s more like it. Now you fucking listen to me, Jerry Jones. If you EVER call my ass soft again, it’ll be the last thing you say before I drive a GODDAMN motorcycle up your CHICKEN FRIED ASSHOLE. YOU HEAR ME, MOTHERFUCKER?
MBIII: Call my ass SIR, MOTHERFUCKER!
Jerry: Yes, sir!
MBIII: Marion Barber doesn’t back down from any fucking challenge, lest of all one from some goddamn tumbleweed-eatin’ MOTHERFUCKER LIKE YOU! I will fucking run through the goddamn River Styx to win a game! You gotta tear my fucking dick off to keep me off that field. SO IF MARION BARBER SAYS HE CAN’T TRAVEL WITH THE TEAM, YOU BETTER BELIEVE HE’S IN SOME NEW FUCKING DIMENSION OF PAIN! YOU FUCKING HEAR ME!
Wade: Can I just say, Marion, that you are AMAZING?
MBIII: Shut up, fatass.
Wade: Yes, sir.
(door flies open)
Pacman: Yo yo. Pacman be putn hiz deekaleek in dem azzcakez when mista trayna man say he ain’t gon shine. Pacman ain’t down wid it. Pacman wanna shine. Pacman wanna go n tak hiz peese uh duh pie. Pacman gon shine. Oh, he gon shine. He gon make dat pussy drool. He gon turn dat pussyfountn da fuk on. Pacman down wid it.
And Pacman gon drank. Oh, he gon drank. BULLEE 2 DA DAT. Pacman say ain’t no drank drank till dem chikns git xtra crspy. Pacman like dat. Pacman got his drumstik. He gon make a bitchbizkit. Shoot dat gravy on da bitch. She gon lik it. Pacman down wid it.
MBIII: And another thing. I cannot understand GODDAMN WORD this asshole is saying! How the FUCK are we supposed to win SHIT when players can’t speak English, MOTHERFUCKER! I’m out there stiffarming motherfuckers, and this asshole’s talkin’ about PUSSYJOOSE! WHAT THE FUCK?
(door flies open)
Garrett: Ah, Marion! Marion, my good man! How are you? Did you have a good EATING today?!
MBIII: You fucking red-haired Ritz cracka looking motherfucker! RUN A GODDAMN PLAY ACTION PASS TO SOMEONE OTHER THAN WITTEN FOR ONCE, MOTHERFUCKER!
Garrett: But Jason has such a fine pedigree! Why wouldn’t I call 56 passes for him?
MBIII: Motherfucker, I GOTTA HEAR ABOUT THAT SHIT! Fix the goddamn offense, or else that faggot ass TO throws his soiled maxipads in the middle of the GODDAMN LOCKER ROOM! FIX IT OR MBIII WILL DROWN A BITCH!
Wade: You heard him, Jason. Fix it.
Garrett: What? Well, I never! Do you hear the way they address me, Mr. Jones? THEY’RE SO GUTTURAL!
Jerry: Just do what they tell you to do, SHITHEAD! My fucking toe is dislocated! HOW AM I GONNA STICK IT IN A HOOKER’S COOTER NOW?
MBIII: That’s your problem, motherfucker.
Garrett: (dragging Jerry out) You haven’t heard the last from us! You shan’t get away with this!
MBIII: Yeah well, whatever. YOU DRAG THAT CRACKA ASS MOTHERFUCKER OUT OF HERE AND DON’T COME BACK! THERE’S A NEW SHERIFF IN TOWN TODAY, AND HE’S THE BADDEST BLACKEST MOTHERFUCKER YOU’LL WISH YOU NEVER FUCKING MET! YEEHAW! I AM GODDAMN PISSED!!!!!!
I want more like this!
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