[int. Robert Kraft's office]
Bob: Oh boy, that was some wicked good chowdah!
[door flies open]
Bill: Hey shitstain we need to talk, so quit licking that fucking bowl and listen up.
Bob: Hi Bill, I take it you’re still steamed about that Super Bowl?
Bill: Shut up you dumb fruit, we have more important things to worry about than a game.
Bob: What could be more important than the Super Bowl?
Bill: You know god damn well that I’m talking about out little “weekend research project“.
Bob: I’m sorry Bill, but I’m afraid I’m not sure what you are referring to. If you’ve gone and done something to get yourself into trouble then I am sorry, but I have nothing to do with any of that business.
Bill: Like hell you don’t, you froggy throated nancy boy! Don’t forget, those are your signatures on the checks made out to Walsh and Beeks.
Bob: Hey, you hired the guys. I’m the happy-go-lucky executive, and you’re the evil genius at the controls. Just ask the media.
Bill: You son of a bitch, you can’t set me up to take the fall. I’d sooner lose with dignity than to go down alone.
Bob: Don’t worry Bill, it doesn’t have to be that way.
Bill: So what do you suggest?
Bob: Well that all depends on how far you’re willing to go, my friend.
Bill: Are you talking about a bit of wetwork?
Bob: Well, we have to do whatever it takes to keep this thing from unraveling any further.
Bill: You know me Bob, I’ll strangle the life out of an orphan if he slows me down on the sidewalk.
Bob: Excellent, because I don’t need to tell you what happens if any of this comes back to Mother Russia.
[hidden door swings open]
Vlad: No, we certainly can’t have that. Eliminate the short one and the others will fall in place.
Bill and Bob: YES SIR!
We won’t beat around the bush, we’re crazy about you, Matt Walsh. After all, what’s sexier than power? And right now we think you have the power to run Belicheat out of the league in shame and dishonor. And that’s sexy, baby.
