Dungy: It is Christmas. CHRIST MASS. And yet, I do not feel that my beloved National Football League is operating as a proper vehicle for our Lord. Look at the way we’ve commercialized and bastardized the purity of Tim Tebow’s faith. There is a young man who knows MORAL COURAGE, a young man who isn’t afraid to speak out against abominations like ABORTION, and GAYS, and GAYBORTIONS. And yet, he’s been reduced to a mere talking point for the secular fundamentalists in our mainstream media! IS NOTHING SACRED?!

And now, as we near the birthday of our Savior Jesus Christ, I’m more concerned than ever. That filthy Rex Ryan and his band of dirty Jets players are STILL in the playoff hunt! This cannot be! What kind of country will we find ourselves living in if these, these… MISCREANTS were allowed into the postseason yet again! These are not ETHICAL creatures. They have refused my guidance at every conceivable turn, and now is the time for me to ACT! I must bring in one of my most trusted allies. Sergeant?

(door flies open)

Sergeant Tom Coughlin: THIS FUCKING GROUP OF CUMSWILLING MATCHDICKS OF MINE ARE SHIT! I HAD A FUCKING BATTLE PLAN IN PLACE AND THESE FRESHFACED, DAISY-PICKING SHEETBANGERS COULDN’T CATCH THE BALL IF IT HAD A FUCKING CHOCOLATE-COVERED THOUSAND DOLLAR BILL ATTACHED TO IT! FUCK!

Dungy: Dearest Coach Coughlin. You are a man of moral standing, are you not?

Sergeant Tom Coughlin: FUCKING GODDAMN RIGHT I AM. I HAVE TRIED TIME AND AGAIN TO INSTILL SOME DISCIPLINE IN ELI MANNING. I GUESS NOW I’LL HAVE TO PUT ON THE LATEX GLOVES AND DO IT RECTALLY. THAT BOY’S TESTICLES ONLY COME OUT ONCE A MONTH! FUCKING STILL SUCKING ON HIS MOM’S MILKY CLIT, THAT ONE.

Dungy: You must help me. You must do whatever you can to ensure that you triumph over those Jets this coming Sunday. We cannot have the league’s flagship franchise – your Giants – knocked from the playoffs by these Christmas banditos.

Sergeant Tom Coughlin: I THINK I HAVE A PLAN AND IF IT GOES WRONG I’LL JUST BLAME MY PLAYERS BECAUSE THEY ARE WORTHLESS SACKS OF SHIT AND THEIR PARENTS SHOULD KILL THEMSELVES FOR BEARING OFFSPRING THAT DON’T KNOW HOW TO EXECUTE A SIMPLE THIRD DOWN PASS PROTECTION SET. WHORES.

Dungy: Tell me the plan! I must know!

(Meanwhile, at Jets headquarters)

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Mark Sanchez: Oh wow, Shonn! We got our asses kicked last week!

Shonn Greene: Yup.

Mark Sanchez: I mean, we barely even showed up!

Shonn Greene: Yup.

Mark Sanchez: I guess you could even say we were humiliated! That didn’t feel very good!

Shonn Greene: Nope.

Mark Sanchez: Maybe this is a sign. Maybe this is just the kind of wakeup call we need to kick our season into high gear! Maybe, if we look at it the right way, we can see this loss as an early Christmas gift!

Shonn Greene: That’s retarded.

Mark Sanchez: You have to be positive, Shonn! I read a great Tony Robbins book this weekend to help deal with these very issues! To see adversity as a blessing, not unlike these two tickets I have to the Radio City Christmas Spectacular, featuring the Rockettes!

Shonn Greene: Dude.

Mark Sanchez: I know you think musicals are super lame, but I think you should let your guard down, Shonn! Stop trying to be so cool! Embrace your inner dork and enjoy song and dance, you know?

Shonn Greene: No.

(ground rumbling)

Mark Sanchez: It’s coach! I know he’ll see things my way, Shonn! I know it!

(door flies open)

Antonio Dungerson: Oh, hello! Just me, ANTONIO DUNGERSON, your local purveyor of drugs and escorts and in-temple money changing services! I was just in the neighborhood, delivering YOYO to my drug addict friends, when I realized I brought them one kilo too many!

Shonn Greene: Are you the guy that goes around trying to sell frozen steaks?

Antonio Dungerson: NO! Of course not! Just a simple street merchant peddling his wares! You guys look like you like to PARTY, as they say. I thought you might be down with a little bit of BLOKE, if you catch my drift.

Shonn Greene: Nuh nuh. Ain’t my thing.

Mark Sanchez: I don’t need to get high, sir. The only high I like is the high I get watching Sutton Foster tap dance.

Antonio Dungerson: DAMN YOU! I mean, what about lovely escorts? I know any number of ladies who will gladly perform sexual favors for the right price! They’ll do everything: the Birdy Sanchez…

Shonn Greene: You mean the Dirty Sanchez.

Antonio Dungerson: The Buick Skylark.

Shonn Greene: You mean the Bismarck.

Antonio Dungerson: The Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robot.

Shonn Greene: I dunno what the hell that’s supposed to be.

Antonio Dungerson: IT DOESN’T MATTER! The point is… SIN! SIN FOR ALL! I am an agent of wickedness and I am here to lavish you with anything your heart desires! Surely, there is someone in this building who might enjoy the… DISTRACTION… of ladies and chemical substances, no?

(door flies open)

Wolfman Rob: OW-OOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!

Sanchez: Hey, it’s Coach’s brother!

Wolfman Rob: Where am I?! I blacked out in Amarillo and now I’m HERE! That ain’t right. Usually, when I black out, I end up in the same place: PATAGONIA. So this is a real skullfuck for yours truly.

Antonio Dungerson: Ah! Sir! SIR! MY new friends and I were just talking about how stressful the holidays can be, and how we ought to take refuge in the comfort of DRUGS and SEX.

Sanchez: We didn’t say any of that.

Antonio Dungerson: CALLATE!

Wolfman Rob: No, no. I had my fill of Vicodin and pussy last night, thank you very much. I was out with these six she-male prostitutes, and we went fucking NUTS. Ever party with she-males? ALL BETS ARE OFF. You’ve crossed into a whole new world when you’ve a got a tit in one hand and a dick in another. I went to the shitter here just now and I threw up a taco. A FULLY COOKED, UNEATEN TACO. In mint condition. I had half a mind to eat it again. How was I able to do that?! I haven’t regurgitated pristine food since the time I was coaching seniors in Finland.

Antonio Dungerson: Surely, you could use one more hefty dose of drugs, could you not? I have it all: SMAT, CHRONICLE, LEAN CUISINE…

Wolfman Rob: I just remembered! I GOT IT! I knew I threw up here for a reason. I got somethin’ I gotta tell my brother. Where the fuck is that asshole?

(door flies open)

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Ryan: HOW THE FUCK YOU DOIN’, BOYS?

Sanchez: Hey, Coach!

Ryan: Oh, men. MEN. God, we SUCK! We suck the shit stains right out of Andy Reid’s underwear for him. We are AWFUL. It’s all my goddamn fault. Here I am talking about fighting a fucking and PUNCHING BALLS, and I can’t even put together a decent game plan! I SUCK. It makes me wanna go home and suck on a few toes.

Wolfman Rob: (burps)

Ryan: Hey, who invited the shuffleboard instructor?

Wolfman Rob: You did, ASS FAG.

Ryan: Come here, you fat fuck!

(both men wrestle each other)

Antonio Dungerson: Ahem!

Ryan: (sweating) Who the fuck are you? Say, you look familiar. Are you the Halal guy from outside? Because that kebab you gave me last week really did a number of my asshole. Looks like a 600-pound zit was popped down there.

Antonio Dungerson: No, no! I am merely an urchin.

Wolfman Rob: Like, one of those spiky things you see when you’re snorkeling?

Antonio Dungerson: I am a pleasure dealer. And I was just seeing if you gentlemen needed anything before the big game against the GIANTS. Perhaps some sort of sleeping pill that will cause you to miss the game?

Wolfman Rob: The Giants! That’s what I was gonna say! Listen, Rexinald…

Sanchez: Rexinald? Is that your real name, coach?

Ryan: Possibly.

Wolfman Rob: Listen, asshole brother of mine. You know I haven’t asked you for anything since that one time I asked to switch places with you in bed so I could feel Andrea Barley’s tits.

Ryan: Those were some hot tits.

Wolfman Rob: Yes they were. Now, I need your help again. I need you to beat the Giants. Because my defense BLOWS. It’s ass. And you just know that Jerry’s boy Romar or whatever is gonna shit all over the field the next two weeks. I need your help, you lovable fat shit. WE NEED TO BACK INTO THIS THING LIKE A VAN FULL OF COKE.

Ryan: I’m gonna do my best, but that means these boys here need to show some fucking PRIDE, Wolfman.

Sanchez: We’ve got pride, Coach.

Ryan: Do you, Nacho? Do you have pride? Because you barfed up refried beans all over that fucking field on Sunday!

Antonio Dungerson: I can help with that kind of problem. I know a certain little pick-me-up…

Ryan: Who the fuck is this?! This is a serious fucking football team here, Sketchboy! WE HAVE A FUCKING WAR TO PREPARE FOR.

Antonio Dungerson: (tears off mustache)

It is I! TONY DUNGY! YOUR LONGTIME NEMESIS! And I think I’ve seen enough here to know that you men lack the faith and serenity to EVER make a name for yourselves in this league!

Ryan: So… you’re NOT the kebab guy?

Dungy: NO! I AM A MESSENGER OF JEHOEVAH!

Wolfman Rob: Oh! So you sell Indian food.

Dungy: BRAINLESS CRETINS! YOU SHALL PERISH UPON THE FLAMES OF GOD’S QUICKSWORD! THOSE WHO LACK FAITH WILL NEVER KNOW TRUE VICTORY! And for the record, I was trying to sell you cocaine and hookers!

(shoots up to Heaven via tractor beam)

Wolfman Rob: I wish he’d come out and just said he had coke. I woulda bought a case of it.

Ryan: We’re in rough shape, men. We’re turning the ball over. We’ve got the Dunge hanging on our nuts. We’ve gotta play the one non-crippled Manning. THIS IS A FUCKING COCK-CHECK MOMENT FOR US! Do we all have our cocks? Shonn?

Shonn Greene: Yep.

Ryan: Wolfie?

Wolfman Rob: It’s down there somewhere.

Ryan: Nacho? You still got a beating cock in your pants? You take some gal to a Broadway to show to show her you’re all sensitive, and then matriculate your way into her cooch?

Sanchez: Well, I…

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Ryan: Oh! Oh! Oh, ol’ Nacho scored himself some of that hot wet Madame Butterfly action! THAT’S GREAT HUSTLE!

(slaps Sanchez on ass, HARD)

Sanchez: Ouch!

Ryan: FUCKING BRING IT IN, MEN.

(everyone brings it in)

Ryan: This is us every year, isn’t it, men? Beaten down. Ready to give up. Left for dead by America. You tell me… DO WE HAVE THIS FUCKING LEAGUE RIGHT WHERE WE WANT IT?!

Everyone: Yes!

Ryan: Are you ready to KILL?!

Everyone: YES!

Wolfman Rob: Yeah and are you ready to play some donkey darts?!

Everyone: (silent)

Wolfman Rob: What? It’s a fun game. Played it in Brazil. Super fun if you’ve got a baby donkey.

Ryan: I got this, Rob.

Wolfman Rob: Oh, okay.

Ryan: FUCKING HANDS IN!

(hands in)

Ryan: We will fucking WIN this weekend. We will win, and then we will make the playoffs, and then we will FUCK AND CONQUER. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME? NO ONE CAN FUCK WITH YOU RIGHT NOW. NO ONE CAN KEEP YOU FROM BEING THE WAR MACHINE I KNOW YOU CAN BE. FUCKING KILL! FUCKING HURT! FUCKING ANGER! FUCKING WIN ON THREE! ONE TWO THREE!

Everyone: WIN!

Wolfman Rob: Anyone know how I can get back to Dallas? I don’t have bus fare.

Ryan: Just start drinking again. You’ll end up there.

Wolfman Rob: That’s true!