Old Man: Buy something, will ya?!

Customer: Hmm. Whatcha got here? Couple hundred yards of coaxial cable. Rolltop desk with only one drawer missing. A discarded Twister wheel without the actual Twister mat.

Old Man: Yup. Finest collection in months.

Customer: Say, what’s this big hulking thing? Whoa, it kinda moved!

Old Man: That there’s a Byron Leftwich.

Customer: Huh. [Shakes shoulder pad] He got a lot of mileage on him?

Old Man: Had a few dings in his time, but he can still get the ball out if you give him a few minutes. Look close and you see he even got hisself a Super Bowl ring.

Customer: Oh yeah, so he does. What’s the damage?

Old Man: I’d be willing to part with him for a second round pick.

Customer: [Stifles laughter] You want maybe I throw in my first born?

Old Man: No need for jokes. You want to do business or don’t you?

Customer: Hey, what’s this? He’s got a Steelers jersey right on under this Bucs one. You’re just flipping old rundown QBs, aren’t you?

Old Man: I don’t know how he got that. I tell you, he’s in fine working order. See for yourself.

[Leftwich's arm cheeks back, making rickety sounds like an old wooden roller coaster, followed by a too-hard release to a running back in the flat]

Old Man: Told you. Even if you don’t like him as a QB, being big and rigid, you can dress him up as one of those tobacco shop Indians.

Customer: Still think the price might be a hair too steep. What about this one?

Old Man: Thassa Luke McCown.

Customer: Well, I do already have a Josh McCown. It’d be nice to have the full set. Would bring some cohesion to my practice squad.

Old Man: Tell you what: You take the McCown, I’ll thrown in this Josh Johnson, free of charge.

Customer: Don’t have much use for him, but I suppose I can barter him for a UFL mug. How much?

Old Man: 1st round pick.

Customer: WHAT?

Old Man: You heard me.

Customer: That’s insane. You’ll never get value for that! You – you’re not even trying to sell these things, you withered old packrat.

Old Man: You seen the feller trying to move Tyler Thigpen? I needs to have a word with him.

Ernest Borgnine: I have to tell you, this is pretty disappointing. I mean, here we are, Super Bowl week, All we’ve done is sit in our hotel room for three days and watch DVDs.

Punter: Will you just settle down? None of the good parties have happened yet. We’re here on radio row now, surrounded by celebrities, players, and media. Somebody is going to invite us to a party tonight. I just know it.

Ernest Borgnine: You better be right about this.

Punter: I am right. And we’ve been watching good movies, for the record.

Ernest Borgnine: Sure, sure…So does he really have a twin brother?

Punter: Who are you talking about?

Ernest Borgnine: That Charlie fellow. From the last movie we watched.

Punter: No, I’m pretty sure he just made that guy up.

Ernest Borgnine: But his name was in the credits.

Punter: Really? I didn’t see that.

Ernest Borgnine: Yeah, both Charlie and Donald were there.

Punter: Yeah, I don’t know about that. I did think Charlie was pretty clever, writing himself into the screenplay like that.

Ernest Borgnine: I thought it was pretty arrogant, and pretty lazy. I mean, why does he have to be him? Why can’t he just make up another character? It’s not like he doesn’t have any to choose from. I mean, look around here, for example. This place is filled with characters. Marshawn Lynch is over there. And over there is Terry Bradshaw. There’s Adam Brody, There’s–

Punter: Holy shit…Adam!

Ernest Borgnine: You know Adam Brody?

Punter: Sort of. We’ve never actually met, but we’ve exchanged emails.

Ernest Borgnine: Well then how is he going to recogni–

Adam Brody: Punterrrrr, sup bro? This is, uh, this is just like that one scene in that obscure movie whose name even I can’t remember. Dude, you’re not gonna believe this, but check it out, this guy Matt Cassel, you know, I think he’s a kicker or something, but he–

Punter: Goddamn it, Adam, he’s New England’s backup quarterback.

Adam Brody: Whatever, man, you know I don’t follow the defensive players, but anyway, he, uh, he’s co-hosting this rad party with Motorola out in the burbs, and I’m going, you know, and you and your dad should try and go, too.

Ernest Borgnine: What do we have to do?

Adam Brody: Just find Matt, who’s perusing the grounds as we speak. He will accommodate.

Punter: Good deal, man. I can’t believe you’re gonna be the Flash. That kicks ass.

Adam Brody: Yeah, as long as Wonder Woman is–MATT!

Matt Cassell: [walks over] Off the fucking nozzle, bros. Off the fucking nozzle. [Hands each person a VIP lanyard, wanders off]

Ernest Borgnine: What a disturbed young man.

Punter: Hey, that guy’s alright.

Adam Brody: No, bro, he’s kinda messed up. You’re not gonna believe this.

Ernest Borgnine: Try us.

Punter: Yeah, man, try us.

Adam Brody: Okay, so I guess he had a big meeting with the coach last night…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Matt: You wanted to see me, Coach?

Coach: Yeah, Matt, come on in. Have a seat over here on the bed.

Matt: Um, okay.

Coach: Look, Matt, it looks like Tom is pretty injured with this ankle sprain. And you know I’m sick of hiding him from the press. And, well, I think it would be only fair if I gave you a chance to earn the starting job.

Matt: Aw, thanks coach, I really appreciate this. So, I’ll be getting more reps in the 7-on-7s this week?

Coach: Well, not exactly.

Matt: Oh. Well…will he and I be doing competitive drills in walkthroughs this week?

Coach: No, not exactly.

Matt: (confused) Um, then how exactly am I competing for the job?

Coach: You see that red sweatshirt on the bed, Matt? That’s my Little Red Riding sweatshirt. You see, Matt, I’ve been waiting for this moment since you were at Southern Cal. I’m gonna put on that red sweatshirt and curl up on this bed with you. And then you and I are gonna fuck like wild seals in the Arctic night. Like a couple hamsters trying to eat each other. And if you can take the pounding that you know I can provide, right here, right now, you’ll be our starter.

Matt: Oh no.

Coach: Think about it, Matt. I’m gonna make you howl like the three-legged coyote in heat that you are. And then I’m gonna snap my offensive genius off in your ass. You’re gonna wish you were in prison, but it’s a small price to pay for worldwide glory.

Matt: Pl-please stop it, Coach.

Coach: Oh, Coach, what big eyes you have! Say it, you pissant!

Matt: This isn’t right–

Coach: CALL ME GRANDMA YOU MOTHERFUCKER!!

Matt: (jumps off the bed) Whoa, whoa, uh, sorry…I’m sorry, coach. I – I can’t do this.

Coach: (stands up) You do it, Matt. You fucking do it or you’re gonna get kicked around this league like a frozen dog turd on an Alaskan oilfield.

Matt: I’m sorry. (walks out)

Coach: Very well. (yells) Tommy! You’re starting on Sunday!

Tom Brady: (from under the bed) Thanks, Mister! Can I go back to my room now?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Adam Brody: You believe that shit, bro? Have you ever heard anything so disgusting?

Ernest Borgnine: It’s truly awful.

Punter: Shoulda fucked him. But hey, we’ve got a party to get ready for. Where’s my hovercraft?

Ernest Borgnine: Hovercraft?

Punter: Yeah, I have a hovercraft. It’s my post.

Adam Brody: Nice. Is is black?

Punter: It is now!

Adam Brody: DAMN! I’m dizzown like a wedding gown!

Ernest Borgnine: Okay, but go easy on the turns. These hovercrafts historically don’t corner well. And one more thing.

Punter: What is it?

Ernest Borgnine: Well, if this is your post, can I do something? It will just take a second.

Punter: Sure.

Ernest Borgnine: [yells] YEEEEE-HHAAAAAWW! WHOOPDY-DOO!!! I AM FLIPPING CRAZY!!

Punter: [confused] Yeah, that was a bad call.

Adam Brody: It was almost there, but not really.

Ernest Borgnine: Oh well, I tried.