(crypt flies open)

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(crypt flies open)

Count Al: HISSSSSS!!!! Ha ha ha ha ha! Zey said I vas mad ven ven I gave Nnamdi Assimvaa forty three meelleeon! But vee shall show zem! Vee shall show zem all zat the Raidahs shall rise vunce more! BLAH! BLAH!

WereRob Ryan: OW-OOOOOOOOO!!!!!

Count Al: Easy, VereRob Ryan! Soon, I vill feed you all the cheeldren you vant! BLAH! BLAH! Zey said I vas mad! Zey said Al Davis vasn’t veeth it anymore! But look who is having zee last laugh now! Mummy Art Shell, have you seen vat Coach Keefin has been doing at ze Tennessee?!!!

Mummy Art Shell: Durrrrrrrrrrr…. Bang his wife… durrrrr

Count Al: Yes Yes! She is a fine piece of poosy! I vould vallop zat poosy! BLAH BLAH! But zat is beside ze point! Now that Lane Keefin has gone crazy in ze Tennessee, everyvun now knows Al Davees vas right! Zis Keefin, I nevuh trust him! He vas crazy, I tell you! Crazy! Vith ze gosseeping, and ze shameful boasteeng, and alvays trying to fiah the secretaries! ZIS KEEFIN VAS ZE CRAZY VUN ALL ALONG! VUNCE AGAIN, AL DAVIS IS VEENDEECATED! Soon, vee shall conquer ze world! And night shall fall across ze landscape! I shall command an army of ze dead! No vun shall stop me! I SHALL VIN! BLAH BLAH!

(puerta flies open)

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It was reported a few days ago that Jim Fassel sent a handwritten letter to Al Davis expressing interest in the Raiders head coaching job. Fassel issued a non-denial on Sirius NFL Radio, which is practically the same thing as an admission. Luckily, KSK’s trusty sources have come through yet again with a copy of the letter.

With the firing of Lane Kiffin yesterday, Count Al Davis summoned local reporters to his very dark and forbidding castle high on the mountaintop, AT THE STROKE OF MIDNIGHT, to discuss Kiffin’s ouster, and the future of the Raiders organization. Below is a transcript of that press conference.

(crypt flies open)

Count Al: HISSSSSSSSSS!!!! Before vee get to your questions, I vant to talk briefly about this Keefin fellow! Blah! BLAAAAHHHH!!!! Ven vee hired Lane, he vas so very young. And fresh. And full of rich, death-giving blood! But then he turned SCARY! VEEEERY SCARY! BLAH! BLAH!

This Keefin fellow vas nussing like he claimed! He is a liah! He said vee never talked? Zis is not true! BLAH! BLAH! I have counted many times the number of times we spoke after ze Buffalo game! ONE! TWO! THREE! HA HA HA HA HA!!!

/thunder rolls

Zen he commeets ze ultimate seen! HE SAID MEAN THINGS ABOUT ZE VOLF MAN IN PUBLIC!

WereRob Ryan: OW-OOOOOOOOO!!!!!

Count Al: Look at how hurt he was by zat! It vas virtually unprecedented in NFL heestory! Zis Keefin fellow deceived us all! He seemed so innocent, and clean cut, and so willing to submit to ze temptations of immortality! BUT HE DID NOT BELIEVE IN BEING PARANOID! OR BRINGING VILLIE GAULT OUT OF RETIAHMENT! He vas not a TWOO RAIDAH! BLAH! BLAH! Isn’t zat right, Mummy Art Shell?

Mummy Art Shell: (groans loudly)

Count Al: Vell, vee vere not simply going to take that lying down! Except during daylight hours, for zat is ven ze hideous sun casts its glare down upon me! BLAH BLAH! I have now a letter I wrote to Keefin! It is dated right before ze Buffalo game! See?

Reporter: How do we know you didn’t just write that date on it and print it out five minutes ago?

Count Al: HISSSS!!!!

Mummy Art Shell: (groans loudly)

WereRob Ryan: OW-OOOOOOOOO!!!!!

Count Al: How dare you question me?! Ven I say I wrote zis to Keefin two years ago, zat is when I wrote it! And it’s true! Blah! Blah! I wrote back in 1996! Here now is ze letter.

Dearest Mina,

By signing zis letter, you also agree to submit yourself to my harem of tightly corseted vampire succubi! Zen I get to place your head on a stake for all ze vorld to see! HA HA HA HA HA!

Now, as you can all see, Keefin signed zis letter at ze bottom!

Reporter: How do we know that’s not your handwriting?

Count Al: HISSSS!!!!

Mummy Art Shell: (groans loudly)

WereRob Ryan: OW-OOOOOOOOO!!!!!

Count Al: I VILL TAKE ONLY A FEW MORE QUESTIONS! ZEN I VILL SEIZE YOUR CAMERAS AND DESTROY ZEM! Now, please. Ask AVAY!

Reporter: Aren’t you trying to paint Kiffin in a bad light simply to justify your increasingly erratic behavior?

Count Al: HISSSS!!!!

Mummy Art Shell: (groans loudly)

WereRob Ryan: OW-OOOOOOOOO!!!!!

Reporter: How can you fire Kiffin for cause when the team clearly played with great effort despite all this chaos?

Count Al: GO VANK YOURSELF!

Reporter: How will this team ever be viable in the NFL if you can’t even keep around a novice coach like Kiffin?

Mummy Art Shell: (groans loudly)

Count Al: YOU MEDIA PEOPLE KNOW NUSSING! VUN DAY, VEE SHALL RETURN TO GLORY! Unless my maker decides to take me, vich he von’t! For I am ALREADY DEAD! AND ALL OF YOU VILL BOW TO ME! NOW, GO PUT YOUR VEINERS IN A SOCKET! BLAH! BLAH!

Lane Kiffin: What’s the big idea? Who crossed out my name on the door and wrote Lame Duckin? And, hey! What’re you doing in my office?

Greg Knapp: Howdy, Lane! Just trying to see how some of my Thomas Kinkade prints would look on the wall. Oh, this one with the cottage is right purdy.

Kiffin: On whose authority?

Public Address: Vould the owner of a vehicle vith the tags “LN KFFN” please be advised that your has been towed. Blllleeeaaah!

Knapp: His.

Kiffin: But I’m still the coach!

Knapp: Oh yeah. Yeah. Of course you are… Coach.

Kiffin: You took down my authentic cell of Kif!

Just threw it in the trash! Like it was nothing.

Knapp: Jesus, son. [Fishes it out, doesn't bother to wipe off coffee stains] Here. Aren’t you too old to be watching cartoons?

Kiffin: No, actually, not really. In fact, I was gonna test the waters with Animation Domination as a mantra for the year. Whaadaya think?

Knapp: Sounds like a winner.

[Door flies open, stench wafts out]

Tom Cable: Hoooo, man. Just had a commitment to excrement right there. You’re gonna need to let this place aerate a little bit.

Kiffin: You were in my executive washroom!

Cable: And you might wanna execute a little nose pinch if you try to go in there, my man. Anyway, If it’s all the same to you, I’mma hang on to the key.

Kiffin: What about when I gotsta go tinkle?

Cable: Well, we got fields. Lotsa fields. It’ll bring you closer to the fans.

Kiffin: That’s it! I hope Janikowski is ready for some 85-yard field goals in two weeks. I’ll right this ship yet! I’ll… did you already take the pictures of my family out of the frames on the desk?

Knapp: No, actually they came and got them. I think they know what’s up.

Kiffin: Fuck me.

Lane Kiffin: Well, I guess Mr. Davis wants to see me today. Although I don’t know why he invited me to his forbidding mountaintop castle at midnight. Seems awfully late for a business meeting. I just hope he fires me so I can get on with my life.

(knocks on very large, ornate gargoyle door knocker)

Hmm. No answer. HELLO? ANYONE THERE?

(door creaks open on its own)

Gee. That’s odd.

(walks in)

Boy, there’s no one here. HELLO! MR. DAVIS? IT’S ME, LANE!

Oh my goodness! Look at all those bats! Well, it doesn’t look like anyone is here. I think I’ll get going. But, before I do, I better lean against this very old bookcase so that I can tie my shoe.

(leans against bookcase, triggers hidden mechanism, opens secret door, falls down steep slide into damp, torch-lit chamber)

Oh, my goodness! That must have been a thirty-foot drop! But how will I get out of here? Dammit, my cell phone doesn’t work! I better use one of these torches to light my way.

(crypt flies open)

Count Al: HISSSSSSS!!!!!!!!

Lane: AAAAAAH!

Count Al: Now, I am going to suuuuuuck.

Lane: Please, Mr. Davis. If you just let me hire my own defensive coordinator, I think we can get this team on track!

Count Al: Must suuuuuuck. Vant to suuuuuck…

Lane: No, please! Don’t subject these fans to any more of your terrors!

Count Al: Cannot stop sucking… must have fresh, overpaid bodies to feast upon. Finished sucking bloated body of Jamatthew Russell…

Lane: Jamarcus, sir.

Count Al: Jamichael.

Lane: Jamarcus.

Count Al: Jamclintock!

Lane: Jamarcus.

Count Al: VATEVER! (picks up illegitimate child of Darren McFadden’s, chomps into its back, drinks it spinal fluid) NOW I AM GOING TO SUCK YOU!

Lane: Never!

(turns and runs)

Oh no, a mummy!

Art Shell: (groans loudly)

Count Al: No escape. Vee shall always suuuuuuck!

Lane: Not so fast, Mr. Davis. I know your one weakness!

Count Al: HISSSSSS!!!!!! HIGH PERCENTAGE, SHORT RANGE PASSING PLAYS! DAMN YOU, KIFFIN!

Lane: Now to escape to a cushy Pac-10 coaching job!

Count Al: VEREVOLF MAN, SEIZE HIM!

WereRob Ryan: OW-OOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!

Lane: Not so fast, Wolf Man! I know your weakness too!

Count Al: CURSES! A sensible, blitz-free defense! His silver and black bullet!

WereRob Ryan: OW-OOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!

Lane: I’ll be leaving now, Mr. Davis. I wish you nothing but the best in your future endeavors.

Count Al: I VILL GET YOU, LANE KIFFIN! YOU VILL NOT STOP ME FROM SUCKING! I VON’T PAY OUT YOUR CONTRACT! GET ME THE UNDEAD BODY OF VINCE EVANS!

Art Shell: (groans loudly)

Al Davis Photoshoped by 289. OR WAS HE?!