Was that YOUR strain of the swine flu you were eying with desirous glances? NOT ANYMORE. It now courses through my veins! Consider yourself snookered! Another round of head-sized vodkas, barkeep!

Masterful gamesmanship by myself, if I may say so. After all, everyone was talking up swine flu in the days leading up to the draft. It was on everybody’s lips. Can’t argue with that. Sure, it has its detractors. It’s fatal, viral and Mexican. But it’s got major upside. Gonna be a real gamechanger, and much more versatile than McDaniels’ SUPERAIDS. I wasn’t fooled for a minute that any alarmist rhetoric somehow dissuaded you from being interested in contracting it. If ever there was a keen judge of motivations, it’s me.

Oh, you wish for me to seek treatment, do you? I see right through your smokescreen. Clear up my swine flu so you can keep it all for yourself. I didn’t get to be an NFL head coach because of my good looks. It took the mind of a brilliant tactician coupled with the iron will of [urp] oh God.

No, no, I’m gravy. Probably the head is a little dizzy BECAUSE OF THE AMAZING COUP I JUST PULLED! There swine flu was, ready to drop into your outstretched arms and WHOOSH, I snatched it from you like a thief in the night. That’s gotta be embarrassing. No wonder you’re licking your wounds with this whole “dire medical emergency” business.

“Your skin turning a sickly shade.” Yeah, okkkkkkay. Typical, buddy. I got what you wanted and suddenly the personal attacks come out. Let’s try to be pros about this. I, uh, whoa man.

Hey. I’ll be damned.

You know what? This thing just up and killed me. Right like that. All sudden-like. Now that’s some great value for a no. 1 pick. I bet your guy won’t even start killing you until his third year. I win at life. Or did.