Wade: Well, well! That was a heckuva turnaround, wasn’t it? I’ll be. We did it! We came together and won this dang division. Lotta people said we couldn’t do it! Lotta people said we weren’t gonna win anything in December. But we showed them, didn’t we Roscoe?

fat_dog

Roscoe: RUFF!

Wade: You’re darn right, boy.

Roscoe: RUFF!

Wade: Yeah, I know. NOW COMES THE HARD PART! Taking on those pesky Eagles again. Won’t be a walk in the park like last time! But you know what, Roscoe? I feel pretty daggone good. I think I’ve proven myself. I think I’m ready to show everyone that Wade Phillips is a coach to be reckoned with in this here league.

(door flies open)

Jerry: YEEEEEHAW!!!! YEEEEEEEHAW!!!! FUCKING GODDAMN YEEHAWW! You fucking fat piece of fatback!

Wade: Oh, shit.

Jerry: Did you see what my boy ROMO did to those Philadelphia FAGGOTS? They said my boy couldn’t win in December! But he proved those fuckers wrong, slapchin! How many TD’s did my boy throw there, Gunter Smith?

Wade: I believe it wa…

Jerry: TWO! Two goddamn touchdowns! Didn’t I tell you my boy was a STAR?

Wade: I think you may ha…

Jerry: HE’S A GODDAMNED STAR! A BRIGHT, SHINING TIXAS STAR THAT YOU FINGERBLAST A FIFTEEN-YEAR-OLD UNDER! God DAMN, fatass! I’m so excited, I could stick my dick in Susan Skaggs’ ear again! AND I WILL! NO ONE EARFUCKS LIKE THE DOUBLE J!!!!!!

Wade: All due respect here, sir. I do think the defense did have a hand in these victories.

Jerry: Indeed they did, chubtard! Don’t think ol’ Jerral Jones didn’t notice those two shutouts my boys pitched out there. That’s one, two… TWO GODDAMN SHUTOUTS! ANOTHER TESTAMENT TO THE DOUBLE J’S SCOUTIN’ PROWESS!

Wade: I think maybe I deserve a bit of the credit here, sir.

Jerry: SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP. I’m not done congratulating myself yet! You know, Mammy, a lot of people said the Double J was wrong to hire your fat ass. They said you were a loser. They said you couldn’t win in the playoffs. They said you were fucking fat. REALLY fucking fat. “Butter the bus seat” fat. They said you spent too much time in your office fucking banana peels…

Wade: I don’t remember anyone saying that.

Jerry: I did. BUT LOOK AT YOUR FAT ASS NOW! I have taken a fat, slobbering, wastoid of a human being and made him into a December winner! You and your flabby FUPA drippings have proven that the Double J can make a STAR out of any coach! Fuck, I could make that shit dog over there into Vince Lombardi if I chose!

Wade: Roscoe?

Jerry: You named him Roscoe? That’s the name of a fat man’s dog, if I ever heard it!

Wade: Sir, I think perhaps now is the time for us to discuss the option on my contract…

Jerry: Worried you’re gonna be fired, Balloon Boy? Don’t you worry. The Double J takes care of his own. Why, just last week, I fucked a waitress in the ass and then bought her a Coke. I TAKE CARE OF THOSE WHO ARE LOYAL!

Wade: I think it would be a big shot of confidence to the team if maybe you picked up the option NOW, instead of waiting until after Saturday.

Jerry: Oh, is that right?

Wade: And I think that, maybe, I deserve a small raise?

Jerry: A raise?

Wade: Yes.

Jerry: YOU UNGRATEFUL FAT CUNNY! I RESCUED YOU FROM RAIDING THE ROY ROGERS FIXINS BAR, AND THIS IS THE THANKS I GET?

Wade: I’m just saying I think I deserve what’s fair.

Jerry: Bahahahaha! You really think you have leverage here, Tubby? What are you gonna do? Go to Buffalo? Huh? Think the Bills want ol’ Wade back out there in his little faggot poof hat? OH NO! I MIGHT LOSE WADE TO BUFFALO! THEN I’D HAVE TO FIND A NEW FATTY! POSSIBLY ARETHA FRANKLIN! OH, WHATEVER WILL I DO?

Wade: I just thought it might be a good time for it, is all.

Jerry: Listen, Mike Rotunda, I’d love to give you a raise. So that you can go out and swallow all the brisket you like without even chewing it first. BUT THIS IS A WHORE OF AN ECONOMY TODAY, YOUNG MAN.

Wade: You just built a $1.2 billion stadium.

Jerry: But think of the cutbacks I had to make to git it done! I wanted a shark tank! DO YOU SEE A FUCKING SHARK TANK IN THAT STADIUM! I’m afraid we had to make concessions just to get it built. Times are VERY tight. We’re just going to have to muddle through.

Wade: But you had record revenues this year!

Jerry: Did I? That’s what the press would like you to believe. But I’m afraid the barely compensated for our overhead. SKYFUCKING TWICE EVERY AFTERNOON WILL HURT A TEAM’S POCKETBOOK! Besides, we’re lockin’ the players out next year, Count Fatula! We have to look at this thing, long term! That’s why you need to take an 8% paycut.

Wade: A paycut?!

Jerry: It’s necessary. Trust me. YOUR FAT ASS WILL BE GRATEFUL FOR IT!

(door flies open)

Garrett: Hmm. Yes. Indeed. I say, kudos to you all on our division title. And kudos to ME, for unearthing the hidden talents of Miles Austin. A good name, Miles. Sturdy. WOODY. Why, I know at least six people at the Mayflower Society who have similar names! It has a fabulous pedigree, reminiscent of taming red Iroquois savages. Disgusting creatures. Look like apples.

Jerry: Jason, my boy! Get this: Fatty here wanted a raise!

Garrett: A raise? A literal raise, like a forklifting out of his chair? I say, good man, you have taken a rather imperialistic attitude to occupying space!

Wade: I meant a pay raise.

Garrett: Oh, dear! In this economy? Oh, heavens no. I’m afraid you don’t understand the economic fluctuations that have commandeered this economy. Why, just last week, Missy and I had to cut short our annual cruise of the Adriatic with our friends at Goldman from 16 days to 15! And Pricilla Marshall says she and her husband will have to rent out their Hamptons estate for at least a week this summer! Can you imagine the filth a renter would drag into such a lovely home?! A raise? I hardly think that’s possible.

Jerry: Listen to Princeton Boy, Bubble Butt. He went to Princeton!

(door knocked flat to ground, falls through seven stories of the building)

MBIII: JERRY JONES! JERRY GODDAMN JONES!

Jones: Marion! My old friend! Enjoying your division title that I helped supply you?

MBIII: YOU DIDN’T SUPPLY SHIT, MOTHERFUCKER! MARION BARBER WANTS TO GET MOTHERFUCKING PAID!

Jones: Well, I would. But there are many economic factors that play into the decision…

MBIII: PLAY INTO THIS SHIT, HONKY!

(puts Jerry in an armbar)

Jones: OW! SHIT! This doesn’t feel as good as when my dominatrix does it!

MBIII: PAY MY ASS!

Jones: OKAY! All right! I pay you! Just let go!

MBIII: MOTHERFUCKER!

(leaves)

Wade: Wait a second. You said you had no money. How come he gets paid and I don’t!

Jones: Because the only thing you can put a hurt on is a Quizno’s sub, YOU FUCKING MEAT PUPPET!

Wade: Well, can’t I have a bonus, or something?

Jones: Sure. Here’s your bonus…

Pacman: CHUH CHUH. Pacman wuz cummin in dat unyun booty wen mista owna man say U NEED A DAWGSITA. Pacamn sit dat dawg. SHIT B ON. O IT B ON. Pacamn gon shine. He gon take dat dawg an find it sum guud dawgpuzzy. Gon go Mike vick on dat dawgpussy. Gon FIGHT DA PUZZY. GONNA BEAT DAT ASS TILL IT HOLLOW. And then Pacman gon drank. O HE GON DRANK. YOU THANK HE AIN’T GON DRANK? PACMAN SAY AIN’T NO DRANK DRANK UNTIL HE TREAT A BITCH LIKE A CAN A ALPO. JUS OPEN DAT CAN AND CHOW DOWN.

Roscoe: RUFF!

Wade: This sucks.

Jerry: YEEEEHAWWWW I AM FUCKING CRAZY!!!!