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Mark Sanchez: This isn’t looking good for my surprise starting quarterback party. It’s been almost two weeks and I still haven’t gotten my invitation, which is pretty rude, don’t you think?

Shonn Greene’s Empty Locker:

Mark Sanchez: Right? And then that Geno Smith has been hanging out with Coach Ryan, teaching him about art, why he shouldn’t swear and about fancy cheeses like manchego. Didn’t even know manchego was a cheese, I thought it was Tarantino’s last movie. I thought it was pretty good, manchego. The movie, not the cheese.

Shonn Greene’s Empty Locker:

Mark Sanchez: Well of course, I thought the racial stuff was funny, Greenie! I mean, c’mon man. Coach Ryan has been has been calling me “Nacho” for years now and I laugh it off. Stop being so sensitive. Tarantino doesn’t always have to be a “white” thing. Anyway, now my shoulder is hurt because Coach wanted to see if the Bell Grande Nacho could come through in the final seconds of a tight game. He trusted me with that, not that arty-farty, Geno.

Shonn Greene’s Empty Locker:

(Door douches open.)

Brady Quinn: So, this is where I check in?

*Sets down twenty signed copies of July 2007 Men’s Health into an empty locker.”

Mark Sanchez: Hey! You can’t put your crap in Greenie’s locker! Not when it’s special starting quarterback-running back bonding time! Get your crap out of here, rookie.

(Brady Quinn sprays Axe under both arms.)

Brady Quinn: Starting quarterback? Rookie? Bro, do you even know what those words mean, bro?

(Brady Quinn checks ‘The Chive’ on cellphone.)

Mark Sanchez: I know it means you listen to me and get your shit out of Greenie’s locker.

(Door draws open.)

Geno Smith: I say, no need to bring foul language into our work space, Marcus Sanchezus. Say, what is that rancid oder coming from my locker? Did someone indulge in too much manchego at the Met rooftop garden again? And why is someone putting their magazine recycling where I intend to keep my glass recycling? Darn it to heck, a cluttered locker is a cluttered mind.

(Brady Quinn sprays Axe directly at his balls.)

Brady Quinn: Yo bro, I was told to report here bro for quarterbacking, bro. This locker was empty.

(Brady Quinn simultaneously burps and farts Axe.)

Geno Smith: This is my locker and I’ll have you know the famous minimalist artist and architect Donald Judd designed this open space for me personally. Paper recycling goes on the left.

Mark Sanchez: Well, I have no idea why either one of you are trying to take Greenie’s locker. Just you two wait until Coach Ryan gets here, rookies. I don’t know what sort of douchebag you think you are Rook Number 2, but this is my territory and I say what goes. At least Geno here has played some in the preseason. Haven’t seen you take one snap, you locker-stealing jerkalopolous.

Brady Quinn: (Huffing Axe at the same time.) Boo-bro, been in the big for six seasons.

(Mark Sanchez stares at the door.)

(Mark Sanchez stares at the door.)

(Mark Sanchez stares at the door.)

(Mark Sanchez keeps staring at the door. Geno Smith quietly meditates, eyes looking at the door without seeing the door. Brady Quinn watches waterskiing jump videos on YouTube until his phone dies.)

Brady Quinn: Bro…

Mark Sanchez: JUST YOU WAIT FOR COACH.

(Day turns to night. Nighttime turns to day.)

(Door flies open)

rex4

Rex Ryan: HOW YOU FUCKIN’ DOIN’ BOYS?

Geno Smith: But our media bridge cards, we worked so hard on them!  The language will turn people against us.

Rex Ryan: You think I’m going to survive one month — much less one season — not dropping goddamn fucking fucksticks swearing while having to deal with a city full of monkeys pounding on typewriters taking about these New York Jets? Even motherfucking crazy Keith Olbermann thinks our beat writers are a bunch of bags of rotting goat dicks on the 4th of fucking July, and that man made Bob Ley curse. Ley! The motherfucking Stay Puft man of ESPN. Now let me look at your shining, hopeful faces. Missed you dickerydoos while I was away, especially you Tom. Glad to finally steal you away from those super-sized sloth droppings up in New England.

(Brady Quinn takes the completely spent can of Axe out of his mouth like a pacifier.)

Brady Quinn: New England? Bro. Bro. Bro bro bro bro bro bro bro. Bro. Brady Quinn. Not that choadster, Tom Brady. The dude, Brady Quinn. Bro.

Rex Ryan: Well shit on my dick and call me Tom Coughlin, I’ve been 5Channed. Fuck it. You can’t be any worse than these two stillborn pandas.

Mark Sanchez: (Eyes bleary from staring a door for nearly 36 hours, blinks twice.) Away? We you, um, at a special party for anyone? Maybe a starting quarterback party? Without me and the rookies?

Rex Ryan: Oh garsh, no. My son was “playing” in his first game at Clemson this weekend and I used it as excuse to go party and tailgate before the season started. Fuck it. I play my cards right and I might be able to go tailgate again before this year is over. You guys ever go to a tailgate in the south? Tiny young things in sundress, their sweet sixteen birthday present pearls and endless amounts of sandals? Goddang baconIgonnanaila!

Geno Smith: Bacchanalia. No, we waited patiently for you here.

rex2

Rex Ryan: WOOO WHHEEE. That is some smart thinking, Geno. You and Nacho keep the ladies in here all to yourself away from that Mannish Mantista of whatever his name is over at the Daily News. Did you pull the old “The-starting-quarterback-picks-the-head-HEAD-cheerleader” routine? You know me and brother invented that routine.

(A lone Ryan wolf howl is heard in the distance.)

Mark Sanchez: Wait, I get to pick the cheerleader? Does that mean I’m the starting quarterback?

Rex Ryan: How the fuck should I know, I just work here. Just kidding, I probably don’t work here any more, they just haven’t given me my paperwork yet. Nacho, how is your arm? Did I mess up and break it good and broken? Geno, I grind your ankle to the bone? Quinn, ah fuck it man. You were a Brown and a Chief, you’re already damaged goods.

Mark Sanchez: Shoulder. I can play. I want to play.

Geno Smith: I shall be in excellent health should you call my name.

Rex Ryan: Good. I’ll let you boys know by Monday what I’m thinking.

Brady Quinn: Um, bro?