Wade: Oh, SHIT. Shit shit shit shit shit. I am FUCKED. I mean, I’ve been fucked before. I’ve been beaten, branded, tickled, raped, spanked, and fired 339 times now. But I am definitely fucked this time round. WHAT DO I DO?!

You know what, ol’ Wade? You’re screwed anyhow. I’m tired. I’m tired of going apeshit trying to put out fires I got no chance of extinguishin’. You know what? FUCK IT. I’mma have some Oreos.

(opens drawer)

Mmm. I tell you, ain’t nothin’ finer than a good stack of Oreos. You come through that door, Jerry Jones. You’re not gonna stop me from enjoyin’ a well-earned treat.

(door flies open)

Jerry: WHERE IS THAT FAT FUCK?! PHILLIPS?! DON’T YOU TRY AND HIDE FROM ME, CHOKOZUNA! I can smell the hoagie dressing bursting out of your pores! You think you can choke away a ten point lead in seven minutes and then avoid THE ARKINSAW ASSPOUNDER?! Git your fat, drooping ass out here now, Brando! Here fatty fatty fatty! Here fatty fatty fatty!

Wait… what the… Why, you ain’t hidin’! YOU GOT YOUR FEET ON YOUR DESK AND YOUR STUFFING YOUR FACE WITH COOKIES ON MY TIME, YOU FUCKING HOT AIR BALLOON!

Wade: Yep.

Jerry: You sure as SHIT better have a good explanation for this, Beastula! Did you see my boy ROMO out there against those Pittsburgh faggots? HE’S A STAR! AND YOUR FAT ASS MADE HIM LOOK THE FOOL!

Wade: Well, that was clearly Garrett’s fault.

Jerry: What?

Wade: Hey, I did MY job. The D held those darn Steelers down. Why don’t you ask ol’ PRINCETON BOY why he dang offense didn’t move an inch!

Jerry: Well, I… you fat… I’m so GODDAMN… YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE COWERING IN FEAR RIGHT NOW, SCRAPPLE MARTIN!

Wade: Well, I ain’t. I’m tired, Jerry Jones. I’m tired of sittin’ here having everyone shit on ol’ Wade. High time Wade did some backstabbin’ of his own!

Jerry: Oh, is that so? WELL IT DON’T WORK THAT WAY, TUBBY! NOW YOU OPEN UP THOSE BIG FAT SHIT-PLUGGED EARS OF YOURS AND YOU LISTEN TO ME…

(door gets smashed into 3,000 very small pieces)

MBIII: JERRY JONES! JERRY GODDAMN JONES!

Jerry: Oh, FUCK! (hides behind Wade) Don’t move, fatass. You just sit there and eclipse me the way you do the sun, and other heavenly bodies.

MBIII: Jerry Jones, you can’t hide from me, MOTHERFUCKER! Y’all better move out of the way, Coach P. ‘Cause I’mma make caramel outta that wrappin’ paper-faced motherfucker! MOTHERFUCKER, GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE AND FACE THE MUSIC!

Jerry: (comes out) Marion! Marion, my boy! Can I git you anything? Complimentary beverage? Hot stewardess that’ll fuck you blind?

MBIII: Gimme your toe, MOTHERFUCKER!

(takes Jerry’s toe, dislocates it)

Jerry: GAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

MBIII: Oh, I’m sorry. DID YOU FEEL A PINCH THERE, MOTHERFUCKER?! FUCKING HURTS, DUDN’T IT?!

Jerry: (wincing) Ain’t nuthin’ the ol’ Double-J can’t handle!

MBIII: (twists toe) Oh really, MOTHERFUCKER?!

Jerry: GAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

MBIII: Try and sit in on your board meeting with THAT, ASSHOLE! You still think I’m soft, motherfucker?

Jerry: No.

MBIII: (twists toe) I CAN’T HEAR YOU, CRACKA!

Jerry: NO!

MBIII: See now, that surprises me, seein’ as how you thought Marion Barber had pussied out of that game Sunday. YOU STILL THINK I PUSSIED OUT, YOU FUCKING HICK SACK OF SHIT?

Jerry: NO!

MBIII: That’s more like it. Now you fucking listen to me, Jerry Jones. If you EVER call my ass soft again, it’ll be the last thing you say before I drive a GODDAMN motorcycle up your CHICKEN FRIED ASSHOLE. YOU HEAR ME, MOTHERFUCKER?

Jerry: Yes.

MBIII: Call my ass SIR, MOTHERFUCKER!

Jerry: Yes, sir!

MBIII: Marion Barber doesn’t back down from any fucking challenge, lest of all one from some goddamn tumbleweed-eatin’ MOTHERFUCKER LIKE YOU! I will fucking run through the goddamn River Styx to win a game! You gotta tear my fucking dick off to keep me off that field. SO IF MARION BARBER SAYS HE CAN’T TRAVEL WITH THE TEAM, YOU BETTER BELIEVE HE’S IN SOME NEW FUCKING DIMENSION OF PAIN! YOU FUCKING HEAR ME!

Wade: Can I just say, Marion, that you are AMAZING?

MBIII: Shut up, fatass.

Wade: Yes, sir.

(door flies open)

Pacman: Yo yo. Pacman be putn hiz deekaleek in dem azzcakez when mista trayna man say he ain’t gon shine. Pacman ain’t down wid it. Pacman wanna shine. Pacman wanna go n tak hiz peese uh duh pie. Pacman gon shine. Oh, he gon shine. He gon make dat pussy drool. He gon turn dat pussyfountn da fuk on. Pacman down wid it.

And Pacman gon drank. Oh, he gon drank. BULLEE 2 DA DAT. Pacman say ain’t no drank drank till dem chikns git xtra crspy. Pacman like dat. Pacman got his drumstik. He gon make a bitchbizkit. Shoot dat gravy on da bitch. She gon lik it. Pacman down wid it.

MBIII: And another thing. I cannot understand GODDAMN WORD this asshole is saying! How the FUCK are we supposed to win SHIT when players can’t speak English, MOTHERFUCKER! I’m out there stiffarming motherfuckers, and this asshole’s talkin’ about PUSSYJOOSE! WHAT THE FUCK?

(door flies open)

Garrett: Ah, Marion! Marion, my good man! How are you? Did you have a good EATING today?!

MBIII: You fucking red-haired Ritz cracka looking motherfucker! RUN A GODDAMN PLAY ACTION PASS TO SOMEONE OTHER THAN WITTEN FOR ONCE, MOTHERFUCKER!

Garrett: But Jason has such a fine pedigree! Why wouldn’t I call 56 passes for him?

MBIII: Motherfucker, I GOTTA HEAR ABOUT THAT SHIT! Fix the goddamn offense, or else that faggot ass TO throws his soiled maxipads in the middle of the GODDAMN LOCKER ROOM! FIX IT OR MBIII WILL DROWN A BITCH!

Wade: You heard him, Jason. Fix it.

Garrett: What? Well, I never! Do you hear the way they address me, Mr. Jones? THEY’RE SO GUTTURAL!

Jerry: Just do what they tell you to do, SHITHEAD! My fucking toe is dislocated! HOW AM I GONNA STICK IT IN A HOOKER’S COOTER NOW?

MBIII: That’s your problem, motherfucker.

Garrett: (dragging Jerry out) You haven’t heard the last from us! You shan’t get away with this!

MBIII: Yeah well, whatever. YOU DRAG THAT CRACKA ASS MOTHERFUCKER OUT OF HERE AND DON’T COME BACK! THERE’S A NEW SHERIFF IN TOWN TODAY, AND HE’S THE BADDEST BLACKEST MOTHERFUCKER YOU’LL WISH YOU NEVER FUCKING MET! YEEHAW! I AM GODDAMN PISSED!!!!!!

This week, we’re holding the second annual KsK Kares Kharity Drive for Fisher House, which helps build temp housing for disabled veterans and their families. You can donate directly to FH here.

Wade: Well, oh my! I sure am stuffed! My, my goodness! Got ourselves a nice little Thanksgiving break there. Always does a man good, I tell you what. You know, this time of year is always so hectic. But I think we’re well-prepared this time. I know we got those pesky Steelers coming up. And we’re still chasing a playoff spot. But I feel good about where we are.

Yep, I think we’re gonna have a much more stable December round these parts. Nope, no crises here at Valley Ranch of any sort! No emergency fires of any kind are gonna spring up and disturb an otherwise smoothly running work month. AT ALL. Time to just eeease back into work and…

(door flies open)

Jerry: YEEEEEEEEEEHAW! YEE, YEE, YEE, YEEGODDAMNHAW! YEEHAW MASON-DIXON FUCKING A GOWGIRL IN A HAYLOFT WITH HER PANTIES STUFFED IN HER THROAT! YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEFUCKINGHAW, FATASS!

Wade: Oh. shit.

Jerry: Did you see what my boy ROMO did to those Seattle faggots, Tubby? He put THREE goddamn touchdown passes right in their faggoty little messenger bags! YOU DON’T BIKE TO WORK WHEN YOU’RE PLAYIN’ THE DOUBLE-J, THAT’S FOR GODDAMN SURE!

Wade: We’re glad to have him back. But I think we’re going t have to prepare extra hard for the Steelers, sir…

Jerry: Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up. Listen, Ham Cameron, I need you to stop baking cheesecake in your crotch for a second and get your fat fucking ass out of your fat fucking chair. MOVE IT! GIT!

Wade: What’s going on? (gets out of chair) What the heck?

Jerry: Good God. Look at the assdent in that chair. That’s what Lake Superior looks like if you drain it! There are enough coffee cake crumbs in that seat to run an Aunt Anne’s factory, you galactic fat fuck!

Wade: Sir, I don’t think that’s very…

Jerry: I DON’T GIVE A SHIT WHAT YOU THINK! THIS IS MY GODDAMN CHAIR! I OWN IT! AND I DON’T PAY YOU TO SPEND ALL DAY BUTTERING IT UP FOR MUFFINMAKING, YOU BIG FAT CLAM! Now listen up, Rosie Live. I have Christmas shopping for you to do.

Wade: I can’t go Christmas shopping!

Jerry: Why not? Can’t go to mall without ending up behind the counter of a Mrs. Field’s, you cookie-loving fat shit?! Well don’t fear, fatass. I have just entered in the Amazon username and password for the Double-J’s personal online account. You’ll be shopping right from this very chair. AND NO SPANK BREAKS! I don’t want my wife getting some pair of earrings that you bought after treating your dick like a Push Pop! Now you have to get gifts for the following people:

(hands Wade 700 page list)

Wade: There are thousands of names on here!

Jerry: Fucking right. AND DON’T GO THINKING YOU’RE ONE OF THEM! I only buy Omaha Steaks for people that don’t eat them as an after dinner cooldown. Be sure to get Susan that cheese log that’s shaped like a penis. Like Wispride spreadable white wine cheddar, the Double-J’s cock is EXTRA SHARP!

Wade: Sir, I don’t have time for this. How are we gonna get ready for the Steelers?

Jerry: You fat hump. Didn’t I tell you my boy ROMO is a star?

Wade: I think you’ve maybe…

Jerry: HE’S A GODDAMN STAR! Besides, ol’ Jerry’s got a little ace up his sleeve this go round for those Pittsburgh meatstuffers. ADAM!

(door flies open)

Pacman: Yo yo. Pacman cum back 2 da lokkr room an dem otha bitchez be sayn Pacman no gud. Pacman ain’t down wid it. Pacman say dem foolz ain’t walked in his shooz. Dey ain’t kno what it lik 2 fist dat azz lik da Pac do. Dey ain’t kno what it like 2 ta grab a bitch an pak dat hatchbak. Pacman down wid it. Pacman say dem girlz got 2 giv up dat fatburger. Pacman say itz Burgertime.

Pacman gon shine. Pacman tak dat azz an put dat banana in it. Pacman ain’t no froot. Pacman got dat big Chikita shit. Dis shit naycha’s perfect fud. And Pacman gon drank. Oh, he gon drank. BULLEE DAT. Pacman say ain’t no drank drank until he turn on da sprinkla. PACMAN GON TURN ON DA AZZSPRINKLA! CHUH CHUH

Jerry: That reminds me, Fatass. Be sure to get Adam here one of those Sony ass sprinklers. No cheap Vizio ass sprinklers for my boy!

Wade: But I don’t even know what that is.

Jerry: You need to also get at least two hookers for each Cowboy alum. THE DOUBLE-J NEVER FORGETS A COWBOY! Now get them gift-wrapped, and ship them FedEx so they’re still breathin’ when they get there. NO ONE WANTS A DEAD HOOKER ON THEIR DOOSTEP!

Pacman: Pacman down wid it.

Jerry: Not everyone agrees, Adam. Also, get Irvin that pair of golden scissors he wanted.

Wade: Well, who’s gonna run the team while all this is going on?

(door flies open)

Garrett: Mmmm. Yes. Indeed. My good portly friend, shouldn’t you be in Perigord region, rooting around in the soil for precious black truffles?

Wade: Shut up.

Garrett: Oh, dear Mr. Jones! How good to see you again! I trust you had a lovely Thanksgiving. Did you get the holiday card that Priscilla sent you? I wrote it myself. There’s no levity quite like Princeton levity!

Jerry: It was lovely, Jason. I’ll treasure it always. And I’ll have fatty here get you that Vineyard Vines whale belt you asked for.

Garrett: Oh, please! No need! I already have seventeen of them! Ha ha ha!

Jerry: Ha ha ha!

Garrett: Ha ha ha!

Jerry: Ha ha ha!

Garrett: Ha ha ha! Oh, Mr. Jones. What a Princetonian you would have been! I wish you had been in our eating club. A fine eater you’d make! Unlike the human landfill opposite me now.

Wade: Hey!

Jerry: YOU SHUT UP, COACH KFC! You shut up and git my shopping done! AND MAKE SURE NATE NEWTON GETS THAT BROWNIE PAN HE ASKED ME FOR!

Wade: This sucks.

Jerry: YEEEEEEEEHAW! DOUBLE YEEEEEEHAW! TRIPLE FUCKING YEEHAW, YOU FUCKING SHOPACHOCOHOLIC!
JINGLE BALLS, HOOKERS CALL, WADE DONE LAID AN EGG!
THE JONESMOBILE HAS EIGHT WHEELS AND I’LL EAT PUSSY ANY DAY!!!!!
WAHOOOOOO, I AM FUCKING CRAZY!!!!

Image via Awful Announcing.