Andrea: Oh, man. Training camp starts at the end of the month! Thank goodness. What a long offseason. I can’t wait to finally get back out on the field and provide fans with the crucial injury info they so desperately need, plus a charming anecdote or two about the opposing coaches if we can fit it into the broadcast. This year, I’m gonna really do my best to make SNF a seamless show. I know people don’t like sideline reporters all that much, but I’m going to show them an informative and professional reporter CAN be more than just a broadcast accessory. I’m excited! This is gonna be great!

(phone rings)

Andrea: Hmm. I wonder who that could be?

(phone flies open)

Mel: YOU FUCKING WHORE.

Andrea: Oh, no. Not again, Mel. Have you been drinking?

Mel: What’s with the tight blue sideline suit, you WHORE? Are you trying to keep in your breasts, which are lactating foreign bodies? THAT IS BURMESE MILK IN YOUR TITS AND I WON’T STAND FOR IT.

Andrea: I’m not going to get into this sort of thing with you, Mel.

Mel: And look at your eyeshadow! You look like a goddamn PIRATE SLUT. Those eyes look fucking ridiculous.

Andrea: I think they look just fine.

Mel: They look stupid. I’m just telling you. It’s just an appraisal. YOU PIGSKIN RUBBING ASS HOOKER. Keep ‘em if you want. Look stupid. See if I give a FUCK! You know, but those eyes are too smoky and they look stupid. You look like some Vegas bitch, like a Vegas whore!

Andrea: I do not! Fred Gaudelli said that, if anything, I understate my looks far too much!

Mel: And you go around sashaying around in your tight clothes and stuff. I won’t stand for that anymore. I don’t want my sideline reporter to be that. YOU ARE UNCLEAN AND CONTAMINATING MY ENJOYMENT OF THE BEARS GAME WITH YOUR FLOOZY ATTIRE.

Andrea: I don’t walk around in tight clothes. I wear tasteful outfits chosen with a producer.

Mel: When you go out in public at Gillette Stadium, it’s a fucking embarrassment to me. You look like a fucking bitch on heat for Tommy Brady.

AND IF YOU GET RAPED BY A PACK OF ROETHLISBERGERS IT’LL BE YOUR FAULT, ALL RIGHT? Because YOU provoked it. You are provocatively dressed all the time. With your fake lashes you feel you have to show off, in tight outfits and tight pants so you can see your CREAMY PUSSY from behind. And that blue thing last season was enough. That’s provocative, okay? I’m telling you, I’m just telling you the truth. I don’t like it. I don’t want that woman. Look at Kolber. She’s dressed way classier than YOU. She was fucking making eyes at me. She’d have sucked me in 5 seconds. Take that one up with her. I was trying to spare your goddamn feelings. She’d have blown me in 5 seconds!

I don’t want you. I don’t believe you anymore. I don’t trust you when you tell me Darren Sproles knee doesn’t appear to be bothering him. I don’t love you. I don’t want you. Okay? Stay in the fucking house. I’m not giving it to you but I’ll let you stay there, okay? And I will take care of my child. But I don’t want you anymore.

Andrea: Well, I think you’re drunk and completely unreasonable. I’m going to hang up on you.

Mel: DON’T YOU HANG UP ON ME, WETBACK!

Andrea: I’m not a wetback. I was born in America.

Mel: But you are a WHORE. And whores have wet backs from all the jizz blown on them! JIZZBACK!

Andrea: That’s enough. You’re a terrible man and I’m hanging up.

Mel: Stay on this phone and don’t hang up on me. I have plenty of energy to drive over there. You understand me? AND I WILL! SO JUST FUCKING LISTEN TO ME. LISTEN TO MY FUCKING RANTING. I’M DRUNK AND I DON’T LIKE YOU AND I DON’T LIKE EVERYONE SAYING THE COWBOYS ARE NFC FAVORITES THIS YEAR. You should just fucking smile and blow me! ‘Cause I deserve it.

Andrea: You just enjoy insulting me. That’s all.

Mel: Fuck you, I so fucking do. Because you’ve hurt me so bad. You insult me with every look, every breath, every heartbeat, every time you try and catch Sean Payton running into the tunnel at halftime. “Hey Coach, what do you have to do in the second half to stop the Carolina running game?” I see what you’re doing to him, WITH YOUR MEATY PUSSY HANGING OUT. YOU WHORE.

Andrea: I resent that accusation! That’s a complete lie.

Mel: Well then you’re a dishonest cunt! You need a fucking bat to the side of the head.

Andrea: You’ve got some nerve, threatening me after you did what you did to me and OUR CHILD. You were hitting a woman with a child in her hands. You! What kind of a man is that, hitting a woman when she’s holding a child in her hands? Breaking her teeth, twice, in the face. What kind of man is that?

Mel: Oooh, you’re all angry now! You know what, you fucking deserved it. NEXT TIME, WEAR A FACE MASK WHEN YOU FUCK WITH THE MEL.

Andrea: You’re gonna answer, one day, boy, you’re gonna answer.

Mel: Huh? What? Are you threatening me?

Andrea: Nothing, nothing. I’m not the one to threaten.

Mel: I’m threatening you? I’ll put you in a fucking rose garden, you cunt! You understand that? Because I’m capable of it. I WAS FRIENDS WITH RAE CARRUTH FOR A WHILE. You are a whore, and Howie agrees with me. Right Howie?

(conference call flies open)

Howie: You bet, Mel. I’ve seen her pop up from the passenger seat of many a Chevy pickup.

Andrea: This is outrageous!

Howie: Look at that eye shadow. I used to tell Teri Hatcher all the time she’d be raped if she wore that much eye shadow. AND SHE WAS! BY ME! IN A CHEVY PICKUP!

Mel: WHORE! WHORE! You watch, Kremer. One day, a Roethlisberger will see you dressed like a STRUMPET and ra…

Andrea: (hangs up) Ugh. Enough.

(door knocks)

Andrea: What the?

(door flies open)

Ben: HARF HARF. BEN DOES NOT KNOW IF DOWN TO FUCK, BUT HE LIKE TO FUCK SPORTS JOURNALISTS. YOU HAVE PRETTY EYES.

Andrea: Oh Christ.