In an effort to establish better rapport with his teammate, Bengals wideout Chad Ochocinco decides to take the drastic step of moving into the home of quarterback Carson Palmer, in a spirited attempt to get the two men to understand one another.

palmer1

Carson: Honey? Honey?! I’m going to the store. Do you have anything you need me to add to the Honey Do list? It says we need berries, but it doesn’t specify what kind. Do I just get whatever’s on sale? Honey?

(doorbell rings)

Hmm. I wasn’t expecting any visitors today.

(door flies open)



Ocho: Comin’ through, white boy! Comin’ through! Clear that stairway, Carter. Ocho’s gotta move his shit!

Carson: What are you doing?

Ocho: What do you mean, what am I doing? I’m bunking with you and your family! That’s right! Ocho and The Porters. One big happy family! Now move out the way, Carter.

Carson: It’s Carson. Carson Palmer.

Ocho: You got it, Carter. You know, your name sounds a lot like a law firm. I have some unpaid parking tickets of my own. Not many. Like, 350 or so. You think you could take care of that.

Carson: I’m not a lawyer, Chad.

Ocho: Yeah, but you could be.

Carson: But I’m not.

Ocho: But you could be.

Carson: But I’m not.

Ocho: But you could be! Look at how white you are, Cartley! That’s lawyer white. Now, where do I put my shark tank?

Carson: Wait. We haven’t even discussed this.

Ocho: Sure we have. I TWEETED THAT SHIT!

Carson: You can’t just move in.

Ocho: Why not? This house looks nice. I see no reason why I wouldn’t want to live here.

Carson: Yes, but it’s not your house. It’s mine. It’s up to me to decide who gets to live in here and who doesn’t.

Ocho: Well, who died and made you the FBI?

Carson: It’s not like that, Chad. It’s a matter of common courtesy. If you’re gonna move in with me and my family, you need to discuss it with me first. That’s just basic protocol. I don’t even know if I have room.

Ocho: Ha ha! See, I love this! Here we are, bickering and arguing, just like a married couple. That’s the kind of special chemistry we have, Carsten! This is why we need to live together. Now, where do I put my hats? OCHO GOT SOME HATS!

Carson: You can’t put them anywhere yet. I haven’t talked about this with my wife. I haven’t talked about this with our kids.

Ocho: You don’t need to talk about it with your kids. KIDS LOVE ME! I got four of my own… somewhere. And whenever they see me, they say, “There’s Daddy Ocho! With money! The TV’s gonna work again!” I even write children’s songs.

FARTY FARTY
MY BUTT’S HAVIN’ A PARTY

That’s some Raffi shit right there.

Carson: Look, I enjoy having you as a teammate, Chad. And I want us to work together to get better. But we should do that at the team facility. We should make a schedule, meet up early, watch film together, work routes together, and things like that. I don’t see how you living here is any help. This house is for my family and I.

Ocho: Well, how do you know I’m not your family?

Carson: Because you aren’t.

Ocho: But I could be? You like hot dogs, right?

carson-palmer

Carson: Yes.

Ocho: So do I! That’s a shared trait, right there. How many other people out there like hot dogs?

Carson: All of them.

Ocho: Yes, but are those people who like hot dogs also football teammates? You see the coincidences here? That’s not typical shit, man. I’m not gonna lie, Carter. I never knew my Dad. Never saw him. I don’t even remember his name. Now, what was your dad’s name?

Carson: William.

Ocho: I know that name! That could be MY dad!

Carson: No, it couldn’t.

Ocho: Yes, it could.

Carson: No, it couldn’t.

Ocho: Yes, it could.

Carson: No, it couldn’t.

Ocho: Yes, it could! How do you know your dad didn’t sneak out one night, drive down to Miami, and pick up a streetwalker named Shanee? You don’t! That could have happened!

Carson: My Dad is from California.

Ocho: Yeah, but you don’t KNOW that. You were just a baby. Unless you’re one of those superbabies, you can’t possibly know if he hit that shit.

Carson: What’s a superbaby?

Ocho: You know. Like the ones I saw here.

baby_geniuses

Carson: Okay, those babies weren’t real. Those were fictional babies in a subpar Kathleen Turner vehicle.

Ocho: Yeah, but there COULD be superbabies. In fact, that reminds me. I have to unpack my superbaby detector.

fam_comb_5_black-2606

Carson: That’s a comb.

Ocho: Yeah, but when superbabies get near it, it waves like this. See that?

Carson: You’re just waving it around yourself.

Ocho: That’s because the superbabies are MAKING me do it. You’re a lawyer and shit. You could help me find them! You know how I know when a baby is a superbaby? Because when I sing…

FARTY FARTY
MY BUTT’S HAVIN’ A PARTY

They do NOT giggle. One time I sung it for this superbaby, and he said to me, “Johnson, get your fucking ass back in the huddle!”

Carson: That was coach Lewis.

Ocho: Exactly. He’s a superbaby. Just talking about him makes this comb go crazy, Carter!

Carson: HOLY SHIT. YOU FUCKING RETARD. MY NAME IS CARSON. NOT CARTER. IT’S NOT THAT FUCKING HARD TO REMEMBER. AND I DON’T WANT YOU LIVING IN MY GODDAMN HOUSE WITH MY GODDAMN FAMILY. YOU UNDERSTAND?

Ocho: Absolutely. So where should I put these pickles?

Carson: NOWHERE! WHAT THE FUCK DID I JUST SAY TO YOU, ASSHOLE? I SAID YOU CAN’T LIVE HERE. WE AREN’T FAMILY. I’M NOT A FUCKING LAWYER. I’M YOUR GODDAMN QB, AND WHAT I’D LIKE FROM YOU IS SOME ACTUAL FUCKING EFFORT OUT ON THE FIELD. IS THAT EVEN CLOSE TO BEING POSSIBLE? OR ARE YOU GONNA SPEND ALL FUCKING DAY WAVING A FUCKING COMB AROUND?

Ocho: You know who was a superbaby? Ray Lewis. Stabbed two other babies with a rattle. Can you believe that, Carboat?

Carson: JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.