Wade: Stupid Jerry Jones. Tired of him bein’ such a big jerk. Why, if I had a mind, I’d slap that no-good snake right good! Gosh darn right I would!

Tired of bein’ disrespected around here. I am one of the finest defensive coordinators in all of football, but people forget that when I’m the head man! Shoot, so I ain’t so hot in front of a camera. So what? Most people aren’t. My job is teach football and get these men prepared, and darn it if I’m not pretty good at it.

So bring it on, Double-J. I’m not afraid of you anymore. I’m tired of tryin’ to please someone who’s hopin’ to never be pleased. So you just walk on through that door, and you…

(door flies open)

Jerry: YAAAAAAAAY-HAW!!!! SWEET JESUS HIPPITY HOPPITY DING DONG FLIP FLOPPITY BANG YOU FROM THE TOPPITY OF MY POPPITY!!!

Wade: What do you want?

Jerry: Hoo boy, who’s feeling chipper this morning?! Listen fatty, I want to talk to you.

Wade: (sighs) What is it? What horrible thing am I supposed to subject myself to now?

Jerry: Easy, Tubby. I’ve been thinkin’. And I think I’ve done you wrong.

Wade: Heard that before.

Jerry: No, I mean it. AND WHEN THE DOUBLE-J GIVES YOU HIS WORD, IT IS FUCKING MAHOGANY! I’ve done you wrong, Wade Phillips. You’re a good man. Hell, better man than I ever was. I respect who you are as man. Frankly, I probably resent ya for it as well. I’m sorry I undermined you. I’m sorry I brought that Princeton faggot in to undermine you. I’m sorry about all the times I fired you. I’m sorry I branded you. And raped you. Hell, I’m sorry I set up that surveillance camera in your daughter’s bedroom.

Wade: You set up a…

Jerry: BUT THAT’S ALL WATER UNDER THE BRIDGE NOW! I’ve realized that, by undermining you, I haven’t given you a fair shake. You deserve to coach this team without me gummin’ you up at every turn. And I think you’ve worked damn hard for these Dallas Cowboys. So I think you’ve earned yourself a day off. Forrest Lump.

Wade: A what?

Jerry: A day off. Go on. GIT. I arranged a nice pontoon boat ride for you and your family. No joke. Just go on now, and enjoy.

Wade: But there’s still so much to do. We’re still in season preparations, and, well, I’m not sure we’ve got much time for a dilly-dallyin’…

Jerry: LISTEN LARDASS, I GAVE YOU THE DAY OFF. NOW YOU TAKE THAT GODDAMN DAY OFF BEFORE I CHANGE MY MIND!

Wade: Yes sir. Yes, sir I’ll do that right quick. And thank you. Thank you kindly.

Jerry: GIT!

Wade: I just… I just can’t but think something ain’t…

Jerry: Will you just roll your fat ass out the door?

Wade: Right.

(Wade leaves.)

Jerry: Is he gone? I think he’s gone. All right, bring the camera crew in.

Frankie: Sir?

Jerry: Frankie, I need you to spray some Oust in this office. I think Minister Fudge out there had hisself another breakfast burrito. Smells like red pepper farts. NOW GIT VAN PATTEN IN HERE!

Frankie: You got it, Mr. J.

(door flies open)

Dick Van Patten: Hi, everyone!

Jerry: Move it, Van Patten. I GOTTA PAY YOUR ASS SCALE, SO TIME IS MONEY!

Dick Van Patten: Yes, sir.

Jerry: All right, Van Patten, here’s the deal. Ever since HBO started putting Mount Chocula out there on camera, ratings have plummeted. No one wants to hear some fat man say stupid fat man things. So I need you to give Assafrass’s role there some SIZZLE! He’s comin’ off like some big fat Broward County FAGGOT! I need you to sell this role. Now, there are FIVE things I learned about bein’ a salesman. The first rule is… GIT YOUR HANDS ON ALL THE SWEET ARKINSAW ASS YOU CAN FIND! And I don’t remember the goddamn rest.

Dick Van Patten: Yes, sir.

Jerry: The important thing here is to make me LOOK GOOD! Ol’ Walter Titty out there just made us all look stupid! So when someone asks you something, you just turn to me and make sure you look like you need my sage advice. GOT ME RECKONED, YOU OLD BAG?!

Dick Van Patten: Yes, sir.

Jerry: Then roll those cameras! And get Adam in here!

(door flies open)

Pacman: Yo yo. I gon be easin’ into dat skeezin’. Slap that azz on the griddle and flip it. Pacman down wid it.

Jerry: Adam, I have heard that you fell asleep in a meeting the other day. And then you poked one of our secretaries in the eye with your erection when you asked her to pick something up for you. THAT IS NOT THE COWBOY WAY! We are here to set an example for the communitay, and all the sweet, delicious, snappin’ pussy it entails. That’s why I’ve cuttin’ yer curfew back to 4:30AM instead of the usual 5AM. (whispers) Agree with me, tubby.

Dick Van Patten: That is a very bold, leaderful type of move, sir.

Jerry: YOU’RE GODDAMN RIGHT IT IS! Now, let’s get our offensive coordinator emeritus in here to go over our game plan.

(door flies open)

Switzer: (blind drunk) Heeeeeey. Let me tell you folks somethin’. I can’t coach worth a goddamn. BUT PLAYERS ALWAYS PLAY FOR BARRY SWITZER, AND DIDN’T NOBODY SAY THAT SHIT ABOUT OL’ WOODY “FUCKBARN” HAYES!

Jerry: Drunken Barry Switzer, you have had too much to drink, yet again. I keep tellin’ ya: you drink that much Oxy Clean, somethin’s gonna get dirty! Right, flabcunt?

Dick Van Patten: Another trademark example of your daring captainship, sir.

Switzer: Jerray! Jerray Jones! Damn good to see you, ol’ boy! Say, you remimber win… you remimber win we put on those white hoods and went trick or treatin’ through the black neighborhood? BOY, WE RAISED SOME HELL THAT NIGHT!

Jerry: Goddamn right we did!

(door flies open)

Garrett: Hmm. Yes. Indeed. It seems eight servings is MORE than enough for that mobile gastropub of a man.

Dick Van Patten: What’s he mean?

Jerry: Just shut your oldhole, you fossil.

Garrett: Mr. Jones, it behooves me, against the besmirching of your fine reputation, to express my, shall we say.. misgivings… over our quarterback’s dalliances with a certain young country ingénue. Despite her more… pneumatic qualities, I worry about her leading our young signal-caller astray.

Jerry: Oh, that’s you’re one weakness, Princeton Boy. Too much music appreciation and not enough pussy appreciation! That girl has sent my boy ROMO’s Q rating up 30 points. And you know what that means?

Garrett: He’s a gadfly?

Jerry: HE’S A GODDAMN STAR! LOOK AT THESE TITTIES.

AIN’T NO BAD EVER COME FROM TITTIES LIKE THAT! AIN’T NOTHIN’ HARD ABOUT THOSE KNOCKERS!

Dick Van Patten: Well chosen words, sir.

Jerry: Good work, Van Patten. You may prove a good replacement for ol’ gutdragger out there. YEEHAW!

(door flies open)

Wade: What’s goin on here? Why’s everyone in my office? YOU’RE ALL IN CAHOOTS!

Jerry: Uh oh, FATTY ON THE SET!

Wade: I knew this was all too good to be true, Jerry Jones. Why, you ain’t nothin’ more than a no good weasel! And I’mma fix you right!

Jerry: Gotta catch me first, hamcakes! Strike the set! Everybody run! THE ORIGINAL HONEY DRIPPER IS ON THE LOOSE!

Wade: I’ll git you, Jerry Jones.

Jerry: Not as long as I got two legs, FAT HOUSTON!! I TELL YA, THIS MAKES FOR SOME DAMN FINE TEEVEE!!!!!!! YEEEEEHAWWWWW!!! WOOOO HOOOOOOO I AM FUCKING CRAZY!!!!

Casey Hampton: Coach Sunglasses is all on my case for checking into camp a few pounds overweight. Says I can’t even practice until I drop a few. What kind of Catch-22 shit is that? Ted Washington never played a down in his career under 400 pounds and I’m in trouble for being 350? How’m I supposed to shed that weight, anyway? You’re my roommate, man. You gotta help.

Heath Miller: My diet? Well, yesterday I had an apple turnover. It’s sort of my weakness. That and Boston cream pie, white chocolate strawberries and, oh yeah, mmmmmmm key lime pie. I’ve even lost some weight.

[Hampton lunges at refrigerator, rips door off and frantically ferrets through the contents]

Hampton: What the shit? There’s nothing but yogurt in here.

Miller: Yeah, I know.

Hampton: Aw man, I get it. You’re doing just like in the goddamn commercial.

Whatever. So’s this stuff taste anything like it’s supposed to?

Miller: Kind of, I guess.

Hampton: Okay. They got any bacon yogurt?

Miller: No.

Hampton: Spare ribs yogurt?

Miller: No.

Hampton: General Tso’s Yogurt?

Miller: No.

Hampton: Chicken and waffles yogurt?

Miller: No.

Hampton: Fatback yogurt?

Miller: No.

Hampton: Philly cheesesteak yogurt?

Miller: No.

Hampton: Stuffed crust pizza yogurt?

Miller: No.

Hampton: Man, fuck this yogurt.

Miller: You ever thought of creative ways to be more active? You should get a pedometer.

Hampton: That’s one a’ those things that counts your steps, right?

Miller: Right. You could make it a goal to walk at least a certain amount of paces every day. Maybe increase it incrementally throughout training camp.

Hampton: That sounds okay. Either that or Hines told me I could push him around on his…his lickshaw? The fuck is a lickshaw?

Miller: Beats me. I can’t even begin to understand that guy.

—————————————————————

[One month later]

Mike Tomlin: All right. Bring it in, bring it in.

Gentlemen, we’ve had a very productive camp and we’re closer to the team we need to be to overcome the daunting road ahead. There’s still progress that needs to be made. I’ve stressed all along that the Steelers are going to be a team comprised of players that are taking all facets of their job seriously. And that includes conditioning. For that reason, there are some players who are being promoted and demoted based on the possession of these qualities. For one, Chris Hoke will be taking over as our new first-team nose tackle.

[Hoke high-fives Brett Keisel]

Hoke: Woooo! That much closer to an all-BYU D-line!

[The two do some crazy Mormon dance]

Hampton: Your pedometer didn’t do shit for me!

Miller: I don’t know. It doesn’t work if you’re taking steps in rhythm with burrito bites.

Tomlin: [Interjecting] By the way, thanks for that bacon yogurt, Heath. That’s some tasty shit.

Miller: Eep.

Wade: My oh my. Finally, training camp is here! You know, we had to work awful hard to get ready for this year, but finally we get to run out there and do some real daggum practicin’! It feels great! It’s just so nice to get back into the swing of things. This is what you live for, gosh darnit! Walking out there, smellin’ that fresh cut grass, hearing those shoulder pads poppin’. Yup, I reckon there’s no finer way to spend a summer afternoon.

Well, before we head on out there, maybe I should read the ol’ paper. Get caught up on the news of the day. Now, the boss man may not think reading the paper’s workin’, but I reckon it does any ball coach a bit a good to be up to date on world events. Let’s see what we got here.

“COWBOYS’ COACH: ‘GET YOUR RING FINGER READY’”

Oh, shit.

Oh, shit oh shit oh shit oh shit. That was off the doggone record! Better hide this paper before anyone sees.

(locks paper in desk)

Phew! Now I just have to hope that…

(door flies open)

Jerry: YEEEEEEHAW!!!! YEE! HAW! YEE TO THE HAW! HAW TO THE YEE! YEE HAW, HEE HAW, KICK YOU IN THE GODDAMN JEW JAW!

Wade: Oh, man.

Jerry: BUENOS NACHOS, you big fucking cheesebleeder! Finishes up taking your mid-morning butterscotch bath, lardass?

Wade: I’m getting ready to hit the practice field, sir.

Jerry: I tell you, son. I’m not sure our field has enough drainage to handle the chicken grease pouring out of your skin! DRAINAGE, MY BOY! DRAAAAAINAGE!

Wade: I’ll do just fine, thank you sir.

Jerry: Whatever, Louie Anderson. Now, move away from that desk. I hide all my HUSTLER XXX issues in there, and it’s time for the ol’ Double-J to look at some interracial contraband pussy! MOVE IT! MOVE YOUR FUCKING BLOWHOLE, MOBY!

Wade: Sir, I don’t think there’s anything like that in this desk.

Jerry: Shut up shut up shut up. Move your orbital ass away from MY DESK! That’s my poppity, Tubgut. AND YOU DON’T FUCK WITH A TIXAS MAN’S POPPITY!

Wade: All right, all right. (moves)

Jerry: Let’s see what we got here. There they are! HOO DOGGIE! Look at that schoolgirl getting’ at both ends room from those two black guys. Man, are they black! It’s like shadow fucking! I’ve seen people drill oil, BUT I NEVER SAW OIL DRILL PEOPLE! SHOOT THAT BUBBLIN’ CRUDE, MY MAN!

Wade: Please, sir. This is very lewd material.

Jerry: Look at this one. Looks like he’s about to give the girl a lobotomy with that tree trunk of his. That’ll teach her to pass notes in class!

Wade: Well sir, I think you found what you were looking for. What don’t we just close that drawer right back up…

Jerry: Hold on there, Fattylicious. I see somethin’ else in that desk! Hey, it’s a newspaper! Keep your emergency fish and chips in here, do ya Arthur Treacher?!

Wade: No, I was just…

Jerry: What’s this? “COWBOYS’ COACH: ‘GET YOUR RING FINGER READY’”

Wade: Sir, I swear it was meant to be off the record.

Jerry: YOU STUPID, STUPID, STUPID, STUPID BIG FAT ASSHOLE! OFF THE RECORD?! I’D FUCKING STRANGLE YOU RIGHT HERE AND NOW IF I COULD FIND YOUR NECK! GET ME MY FLESHLIGHT! YOU FUCKING MUUMUU-WEARING, TITJIGGLING, JELLO-SNARFING GUNTFLAPPER!

Wade: Sir, it was something said in the middle of casual conversation.

Jerry: Oh, really? Did the reporter take you to Sonic again?! Yes, there’s no truth serum for ol’ Wade that works quite as well as a Sonic Gingerbread Blast! Drunk on fucking liquefied cake icing again, Asstrodome? God dammit, you are stupid. How’s my boy ROMO supposed to concentrate when he’s got his retard coach flapping his big fat beef-lips about winning a ring?!

Wade: It was just a misunderstanding, sir. It was off the record.

Jerry: I DECIDE WHAT’S ON OR OFF OF RECORDS HERE, LARDBUTT! And I’ll tell you one thing that is definitely on the record: You are fatter than the people in the airport terminal. Your big fat ass is gonna jinx us out of a goddamn SUPER BOWL, ONION RINGMASTER!

Wade: (start to cry) I’m sorry, sir.

Jerry: What?

Wade: (crying) I’m sorry, sir. I’m just so sorry. I was really excited for the season, and I was just so happy to be out there, and I didn’t mean it! I just want to go out there and coach! I was really looking forward to this and now I’m just so sad.

Jerry: Whoa, whoa, whoa. Now don’t go crying on me, fatass.

Wade: (crying) I’m sorry, sir. I’m just very sensitive sometimes.

Jerry: Come here. (puts arm around him) Shit, I’m sorry, fatty. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. The Double-J cares about people! I just want you to learn to think before you go opening up that porkstuffer of yers.

Wade: Yes, sir.

Jerry: Like I said, I apologize. You’re doin’ a damn fine job for the DALLAS FUCKING COWBOYS.

Wade: Thank you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted sometimes. Just some encouragement is all.

Jerry: I understand. I also understand we’re gonna have to do something to correct this.

(door flies open)

Pacman: Yo yo. No one say two bitches wit switches be goin’ at it up in dis shit. Pacman ain’t down wid it.

Jerry: Adam, did you bring the prod?

Pacman: Hyeah hyeah. Pacman’ll brand a bitch. Like we always do at Alpha Phi Alpha.

Wade: You’re branding me?

Jerry: Damn right, tubby! You got flesh to burn. SO THE DOUBLE-J’S GONNA BURN IT!

Wade: Wait… you can’t possibly…

(door flies open)

Garrett: Mmmm. Yes. Indeed. I have been told we were going to consecrate the bond of obedience?

Pacman: O hell yes. We gon giv dat bitch a mark. Make her go buc wild.

Wade: YOU CAN’T DO THIS! THIS IS ILLEGAL!

Jerry: Not on my POPPITY, it ain’t! Now drop those drawers, Buttercow! We got ourselves quite a canvas to work with!

Garrett: Indeed. Diego Rivera himself could not ask for a greater swath of blank whiteness. Oh, how this reminds me of my days at the eating club. Where we would EAT. And then DRINK. And then TORTURE.

Wade: Don’t do this.

Jerry: Shut up, cattle ass. You talk shit to the media, you git branded! Brand ‘em, boys!

Pacman: Woot woot. Let’s take dat bitch ta Sizzla.

Wade: NOOOOOO!!!!!!!

Jerry: YEEEE HAWWWW! LOOK AT THAT ASS BURN! BIGGEST BARBECUE IN THE WHOLE DAMN STATE OF TIXAS! MAKE SURE YOU GET THAT MAN-HAM NICE AND CRISP! YEEHAW! WOOHOO! I AM FUCKING CRAZY!!!!

Wade: Well, this has been some week. Lots of things going on. Let me just recap my current situation to myself before anyone has a chance to inter…

(door flies open)

Jerry: YEEEEEEHAW!!!! GREAT GRAND-SPANKIN’ PUSSYSAURUS, HERE COMES THE DOUBLE-J!!!

Wade: Well, that happened faster than usual.

Jerry: No time for talkin’, Fatty! I need your fat ass UP! Outta that chair, Barefoot Contessa! Move it! Move your big fat piggy ass! Make room!

Wade: I’ve already moved offices eight time. You already put me down here in the visitor’s showers.

Jerry: And it’s a good thing I did, seein’ as how your fat ass could use a good hosin’ down every few minutes or so! The groomer’s almost doing an acceptable job with you! NOW MOVE, SLOTH-BOY!

Wade: What the heck is goin’ on here?

(door flies open)

Thom Felicia: Oh my god. This looks like the kind of bathroom where Russian mafia members have naked knife fights! I’m a little scared, and a little tingly.

Wade: Who’s he?

Jerry: Thom here is damn near the gayest interior designer in the whole U.S. of A. Which is sayin’ a lot, ‘cause Lord know interior designers love themselves some wallpapered cock! Thom, what do you think we can do with this area?

Thom Felicia: Well, I don’t want to do anything radical, Mr, Jones. I want it to really reflect your personality. I just want to make it better.

Jerry: So how can you make it reflect me more, FAG BOY?!

Thom Felicia: Well, we’ll have to make it bigger. And shinier. And add lots of mirrors. I’m also thinking of a sort of wall-to-wall gun rack aesthetic.

Jerry: HOT DAMN, THAT SOUNDS CLASSY! MAKE IT HAPPEN! AND DON’T SUCK ANY COCK ON COMPANY DIME!

Wade: Why are we redesigning everything? What the heck is going on?

(door flies open)

Pacman: Yo yo. U put dat fat bitch in da showa, Pacman gon make it rain fo real. Pacman down wid it.

Jerry: I LOVE YOUR ATTITUDE, ADAM! You see, Tubby, my boy ADAM here is a goddamn STAR! Which means we’re gonna have to make some adjustments to make sure he’s comfortable here in Big D.

Pacman: Pacman say lights too bright up in dis bitch. I gon darken dat shit right up.

(takes out gun, shoots out lights)

Jerry: Good thinking, Adam!

Wade: What are you doing?

Jerry: Stop being such a puss, my big chocolate éclair. Adam here suffers from a highly debilitating mental illness called Mons Venopsychosis. It’s a rare condition where the brain is actually tricked into believing that it is ALWAYS in a titty bar. Isn’t that somethin’, Fatcakes?!

Wade: That’s not a real illness.

Jerry: Then why did my boy ADAM show me this doctor’s note?

Wade: “Yo yo. Pacman doctor say he need tits and shit.” This is a forgery!

Jerry: Well, that is just sad, Tubelina. I go out of my GODDAMN way to support this poor, mentally crippled man, and you have the gall to doubt him! Now, Adam. Is it true that you suffer from this horrible affliction?

Pacman: Dat shit b real. Pacman say he gon cuckoo for dem Cocoa Puff tittays. He gon need long time fo dat rebiliteration. He gon need big dose a azz. Pacman gon drain dat azz.

Jerry: You see?! He’s sick! That’s why we have to make this place MENTALLY CRIPPLE ACCESSIBLE, FATASS! That means making the place look more like a strip club, so that our boy ADAM can feel more at home! Jenna?

Jenna: Yes, Mr. Jones?

Jerry: HOO WEE, YOU GOT SOME BODACIOUS TIXAS TA-TAS! Don’t you change a damn thing, sweetheart. You just keep doin’ what you’re doin’!

Pacman: Ooh! Pacman gobble up dem dots!

Wade: I thought you said you were going to make the place look more LIKE a strip club, not actually make it a strip club.

Jerry: Now how the fuck can I make this place look like a proper titty bar without some REAL TITS TO GO AROUND?! Thom! Get your faggity ass over here!

Thom Felicia: Sir?

Jerry: WE NEED MORE TITS LIKE THESE ‘ROUND THESE PARTS! And I want everyone wearing skimpy cocktail dresses with slits that go up to the armpits! What else can we do to make this place nice for you, Adam?

Pacman: Kill dem lights. Pussy ain’t go no face.

Jerry: Well put!

Pacman: Pacman gon need his own back room to do his bidness. He gon squeeze dem tits till dey pop.

Jerry: You getting all this, Felicia?! What else, Adam?

Pacman: Gon need some guns. Pacman like 2 fish in dat azz.

Jerry: I don’t know what that means, BUT I LOVE IT!

Pacman: Ain’t no music up in dis bitch. We gon git some Young Jeezy up in dis bidness. AND WE GON GIT SOME DRANK! O WE GON GIT DAT DRANK. Pacman say ain’t no drank drank we ain’t got no NyQuil. Pacman gon make dem bitches spit da bit. He gon make a fist party wit dem bitches. Muthaphuckkas ain’t no playas if they ain’t takin no sip a dis pussy juice. Pacman gon grab dem quarters and rain dat hail down. He gon spit on dat asshole and wait to put dat Slinky in dat shit. Pacman like it when there blood on the flo. He gon stick dat azz till it rip. PACMAN GON FUCK LIKE A JOHN DEERE DIS FRIDAY. BELIEVE DAT. HE GON TRACTA THAT AZZ.

Thom Felicia: Okay, I didn’t understand any of that.

Jerry: Well, make it your job to understand, gay boy! We need this place looking like a five-star Tixas poon parlor by next week! And do a rush job on the bar. Switzer’s doin’ the bartindin’!

Wade: Sir, this is a huge mistake. We can’t afford this kind of distraction. How are we going to keep players focused in this kind of environment?

(door flies open)

Garrett: Indeed. And how will we keep this fellow focused on football, instead of on the brie en croute hidden in his shorts?

Wade: Ugh. You always gotta show up.

Jerry: Shut up, Fart Garfunkel. Git your shit outta this shower, so we can make more room for the DJ! And the lasers! DJ’s AND LASERS MAKE TITS SING!

Pacman: Pacman gon mak dat azz sloppy.

Wade: Jesus.

Jerry: Let’s make this place into a world class PUSSY RODEO, BOYS! YEEEEEHAWWWWW!!! WOOOO HOOOOOOO I AM FUCKING CRAZY!!!!

Wade: Hoo wee! Sure is hot in this office. I wish they’d turn up the air conditioning. I’m burning up!

(wipes forehead with Diet Coke can)

I can’t work like this. All I can think about is cooling off. There’s gotta be a way to get some air in here.

(tries to open window)

Dangit! These windows won’t open! Well, that’s it. I’m gonna have to resort to extreme measures.

(takes off shoes and socks)

Ah! My word, that feels good. Aw, what the heck, may as well take it one step further.

(takes off pants, rests them on a nearby chair)

Much better. Oh, thank God. Now to sit down without my pants on and quietly do some work, in a situation that looks salacious but is, in fact, very innocent.

(door flies open)

Jerry: NYEEEEEEHAW!!!! HEY DIDDLY DADDLY FINGERBANGER YIPPITY YAY!!!

Wade: Oh, shit.

Jerry: Well, well, well. Look who finally decided to drop the pants façade! Finally realized Old Navy didn’t make ‘em in size 86, did you, Chubtard?!

Wade: Sir, I was very hot, and…

Jerry: Spare me, Tubby! Of course you’re hot. I could drop you in liquid nitrogen and you’d still be sweating sesame oil, you big fat pig’s ass! Frankie! Frankie, get in here!

Frankie: Sir?

Jerry: Frankie, make sure to get a shot of Flab Calloway’s fat ass here. BETTER USE YOUR WIDEST LENS! THAT’S A PANAVISION ASS IF I EVER SEEN IT!

Frankie: You got it, Mr. J.

Wade: Hey, what are you doing? You can’t film me!

Jerry: Course I can, you big fat fuck! I’m the owner of this here team. Which means I own your fat ass. And lemme tell ya, that’s a lotta acreage! Now Frankie here is from HBO.

Wade: HBO?

Jerry: That’s right. Home of “Deadwood,” that show about your cellulite-crushed genitalia! Frankie’s here to shoot us all for HARD KNOCKS!

Wade: Hard Knocks?

Jerry: Didn’t I tell you my boy ROMO was a goddamn star? Well, now it’s official! HBO’s gonna make stars of us all! We’re gonna be on the TV!

Wade: But we already are on TV a lot.

Jerry: Not enough, Beastula. That dirty fucker Belichick likes taping other teams. Well, I’m beating him to the punch! The Dallas Cowboys are gonna be on camera 24/7! Let’s see that cougar-taming fuck edit that down! There won’t be a higher profile team in the whole goddamn league when we’re through! And, to boost the ratings, I’ve brought in even more characters!

Wade: Characters, sir?

Jerry: Don’t you know anything about television, Fatty? To be a hit show, you need compelling characters! That’s what I brought in Adam here!

(door flies open)

Pacman: Yo yo. Dat fat bitch ain’t wearin’ no saddle. Pacman ain’t down wid it.

Wade: You’re putting HIM on television?

Jerry: Of course! Here’s is a fascinating young man, torn between doing right is right, and heading down to the Gold Club to scope out some of that fine, fine, TIXAS ‘TANG! Don’t you see how conflicted this young man is?

Pacman: I gon make them panties snap, bitch. Make you cry fo dat chocolate dong.

Wade: He doesn’t seem very conflicted.

Jerry: Shut up, Fattalanche. My boy ADAM is a goddamn star! You put him on cameras with my boy ROMO, and TO, and the DOUBLE-J HISSELF, YOU GOT YERSELF A GODDAMN SMASH!

Wade: Sir, there’s a lot of work to do. I don’t know if…

Jerry: Shut up shut up shut up. You know what else we need? Surprise guest stars, people the audience kinda recognize! People love seein’ people they’ve seen before! They hate new fuckers! So check this out!

(door flies open)

Switzer: (blind drunk) Heeeeeey. You tell that Bob Devaney, if he don’t like the way Barry Switzer recruits, that Barry Switzer will personally come to his house and piss on his steak.

Jerry: HOT DAMN! Now is this a character, or what?! Look at how drunk my boy SWITZER is!

Switzer: Jerray! Jerray Jones! Damn good to see you, ol’ boy! Say, you remimber win… you remimber win we brought those two honeys duck hunting, then we paddled their naked asses with that rifle butt? You’re a good man, Jerry Jones. DON’T LET NO ONE EVER TELL YOU DIFFERENT!

Jerry: God damn, he is drunk! You see, Fatty? This is what America loves. They love seeing drunk people on camera, because they’re drunks too! That’s called identifying with a character! HOW YOU LIKE THAT?

Wade: Well, I guess it’s okay if they film me.

Jerry: You? Pfft. You think you’re a STAR? You’re no character, Nell Carter.

Wade: I am too a character.

Jerry: No, you ain’t! You’re just a cipher. A foil. Jokes just bounce right off you and go straight to the moon!

Wade: I have a personality!

Jerry: Like hell you do. You’re not going on camera, Tubby. I can tell from this ass shot you ain’t cut out for show business. I’m bringing in a seasoned actor to play you. Van Patten!

(door flies open)

Dick Van Patten: Hi, everyone!

Jerry: Wade, from now on, my boy DICK will be playing the part of you whenever the cameras are around.

Wade: But the cameras are always around.

Jerry: Sure are! But Dick knows his way around the game! Don’t ya, Dick?

Dick Van Patten: Oh, yes. I read for Jerry Van Dyke’s part on “Coach” once. He’s a fine man.

Jerry: You see? This man HAS BEEN THROUGH THE WARS, KAMALA!

Wade: Well, what about a villain? You need a villain.

(door flies open)

Garrett: Hmm. This portly man has chosen to eschew his trousers. Now I know what Bergman meant by “Cries and Whispers”!

Wade: Well, no shit.

Jerry: Isn’t this great?! You couldn’t ask for a better cast of characters in the whole wide world! Now butter those Dockers back on and get the fuck out of Coach Van Patten’s office, Fatpants! It takes 8 hours to get the fat suit on my boy DICK!

Wade: Shit.

Jerry: We’re gonna all be famous, you fat piece of dogshit! YEEEEEHAWWWWW!!! WOOOO HOOOOOOO I AM FUCKING CRAZY!!!!

Wade: Finally! Memorial Day weekend is just round the corner. I don’t care what the Bossman says. I don’t care if there’s still work on the desk. Come tomorrow, at 5PM sharp, I am out of here. Gone, partner! I’m takin’ Friday off and makin’ a daggum four-day weekend of it! Damn right! And I’m not gonna do a darn thing. I’m just gonna stay home and work on the ol’ boat. The girl could use a fresh coat of varnish. Yup, I reckon I’ll have myself a nice, long weekend of doing nothing at all.

Best of all, I don’t hear any rumbling coming from outside my door. None whatsoever! That crazy asshole is busy with the CBA, so I know there’s NO WAY he’s coming through that door right now.

(door flies open)

Garrett: Hmm. Oh dear. Seems a stray whale has become trapped in this office! Oh, heavens! The stench from the ambergris would drown Melville in eternal sorrow! Call me Repulsed!

Wade: What do you want, you big jerk?

Jason: Wade Phillips, it is my distinct pleasure to introduce to you, and the many satellites orbiting around your body, the new assistant director of player personnel for the Dallas Cowboys…

(door flies open)

Judd: My God, dear brother. You told me many tales of The Great Thing. But nothing could prepare me for encountering the beast in person! So very hideous! I shall need a snifter of Harvey’s Bristol Cream at once to ward off the pant fumes!

Wade: Jesus. You have a brother?

Jason: Yes. Indeed. Isn’t it grand? Finally, I have someone to bounce ideas off of.

Judd: Indeed. I bet when you bounce ideas off that leviathan, they ricochet all the way to Montpellier!

Jason: Ha ha ha!

Judd: Ha ha ha!

Jason: Ha ha ha!

Judd: Ha ha ha!

Jason: Ha ha ha!

Judd: Ha ha ha!

Jason: Say, dear brother, do you remember the time we were at our Eating Club at Princeton, and we ATE?

Judd: Oh, yes. We feasted upon strawberries and laughed at all those Depression-era Jacob Riis photos of homeless people!

Jason: What a fabulous pursuit!

Judd: Indeed! That was a very good eating, indeed!

Wade: I wish you people would stop saying “indeed” all the time.

Jason: Oh, what would you know of high culture, you over-inflated dirigible?

Judd: Yes, what Eating Club were you in, my good man? I bet you’re honorary chairperson of the Subway Club, yes?

Wade: Shut up.

Jason: Never you mind him, dearest Judd. He knows nothing of proper eating. Only a Princeton man can truly appreciate the rewards of collective ingestion.

Judd: Indeed. I’m assuming the only company he keeps while eating is with his giant sense of shame.

Wade: What do you two big jerks want?

Jason: Oh, we’re just here to throw you out of your office.

Wade: What?!

Jason: Yes, my good man. I’m afraid this office has been reassigned as the sole, exclusive province of the assistant director of player personnel. And that would be…

Judd: Why, that would be me, my brother!

Jason: Why, you are correct, my brother!

Judd: How delightful!

Jason: How lovely!

Judd: (twirls lacrosse stick) We should have a good eating to celebrate the occasion!

Jason: Yes, this most certainly calls for a good, substantive eating!

Wade: Well, where the heck am I moving?

Jason: Well, you see, old Mrs. McCleary in ticketing retires at the end of next year. So, until her departure, you’ll be sharing her cubicle with her. Actually, it’s less a cubicle and more of a… movable overhead projector trolley. But you’ll finally have someone to TALK to! Won’t that be nice?

Wade: No, no, no. That won’t do. I need more space!

Jason: No doubt about that.

Wade: Well, who signed off on this?!

(door flies open)

Jerry: YEEEEEEEEHAAWWWWWW!!!!!! WILD BUCKIN BUCKFUCKAROO!!!!!

Wade: Fuck.

Jerry: How’s it going, Fatty? I see you’ve been doing your KUGEL EXERCISES! How do you like my new boy JUUUUUDD? Isn’t he a goddamn STAR?

Wade: He’s very nice.

Jerry: HE’S A FUCKING STAR, CHUBBA HO-TEP! I got me TWO Princeton boys now. That’s one, two… TWO GODDAMN PRINCETON BOYS! I tell ya, we’re fifty times smarter than those faggots in New England. You know Bill Belichick went to Wesleyan, Tubby? A GODDAMN GIRL’S SCHOOL! No one’s ever gonna outfox ol’ DOUBLE-J again!

Wade: Sir, I cannot possibly move my office. I have countless files that I need to keep on hand.

Jerry: Calm down, Butterfuoco. I know how much you loooove collecting take-out menus. But my boy JUUUUUDD needs the room! So I expect you to stay here packing up ALL WEEKEND LONG, and have your shit outta here by daybreak Tuesday!

Wade: But it’s Memorial weekend, sir!

Jerry: Oh, really? Gonna build a double bacon cheeseburger memorial in your yard, are ya, Captain Cottage Cheese? You know ya can always order another, don’t ya? THE DOUBLE-J DOESN’T CARE! You’re here to work, little piggy mule! SO WORK!

Wade: God dammit.

Judd: Say Mr. Jones, would you care to join us for an eating?

Jason: Indeed! We were just going to go somewhere with nice wood paneling and Tiffany lamps, and sit down for a proper, afternoon eating. Won’t you join us?

Jerry: Well, that sounds downright elegant, Judd and Jason. I KNEW I MADE THE RIGHT MOVE HIRIN’ YOU TWO!

Wade: But sir…

Jerry: No buts. Now you butter up that fat ass of yours and get movin’! And leave the staple remover! That’s my boy’s now! You’ll just have to chew your staples out like the rest of the fatties!

Wade: I hate this place.

Jerry: NOW LET’S DO SOME OF THAT FANCY EATING! THEN WE CAN FIND SOME OUTLAW PUSSY! YEEEEEHAWWWWW!!! WOOOO HOOOOOOO I AM FUCKING CRAZY!!!!

Wade: Well, that was quite a draft we had for ourselves. I really like this Jones kid. He’s gonna really help open up our offense in new ways. Dag gummit, I’m excited! This is gonna be some fun havin’ all these weapons out on the field! Yessiree, I think we could turn a whole new corner this year.

Well, you know what? I do believe that I am just a touch TOO excited. Oh, dear. Little Wade, stop actin’ up like that! You know we talked about doin’ this sort of thing during daylight hours! Ain’t no good gonna come from it!

Then again, it sure is quiet around here. I couldn’t possibly… could I? I dunno, Wade. That sounds awful dangerous. You were damn near caught red-handed just the other week. NO. Nonononononono.

Maybe.

Okay, yes.

(locks door)

Okay, time to fire up the ol’ computer.

(pulls down pants, logs onto givemepink.com)

Oh, my! Oh wow, that is somethin’. They’re really just all out there, ain’t they? Never ceases to amaze me.

(Firefox quits abruptly for no reason)

Doggone it! This Firefox program keeps quitting for no reason! Dang nammit!

(doorknob rattles)

Uh oh.

Jerry: Say, WHY IS THIS DOOR LOCKED?! Are you in there, Tubby! What are you doing in there?!

Wade: (pulls up pants) Uh… coming, sir!

Jerry: I bet you are!

Wade: Just one minute!

Jerry: What’s going on in there? Are you sitting on the floor surrounded by empty donut boxes again?! OPEN THIS DOOR, FATASS! THIS IS MY DOOR! YOU’RE RUINING MY ENTRANCE!

Wade: Hold on…

(door breaks, flies open)

Jerry: YEEEEEEEEHAAWWWWWW!!!!!! YIP YIP! YIPPPPPEEEEYAW!!!!!! Buenas dias, Senor Pauncho!

Wade: Oh, crud.

Jerry: WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN HERE, you big fat masturbadon?! Jerking your Jimmy Dean on company time, are you?! I got half a mind to show your fat ass the door right now. Though I’m betting your ass has never been shown a door it wasn’t scared to death of going through!

Wade: Sir, nothing inappropriate was happening at all. In fact, the computer is down. I need to call IT.

Jerry: Oh, callin’ for IT, are you? I assume you’re trying to order an INTIRE TURKEY for yourself, eh Jennie-O? Cause if you ain’t jerkin’ somethin’, you’re sure as shit eatin’ somethin’. Lord knows you don’t stop to take a breath in between.

Wade: Nothing. Happened. This dang computer just keeps freezin’.

Jerry: Really, Florence Tubbingale? Well, I would have gotten you a laptop. BUT YOU AIN’T GOT NO LAP, BLOB EVANS! I suppose you won’t mind if I take a look now, will you?

Wade: I thought you said computers were for faggots, sir.

Jerry: And they are! But we live in one big, faggoty world now, my friend. The Double-J ain’t gonna fall behind the times! You better believe I know my way around a PC! Now, let me take a look at this thing. What do I use to steer this thing? There’s no gearshift!

Wade: You move the mouse, sir. But really, you don’t need to…

Jerry: A mouse? You fondle a fucking mouse to work this thing? Well, that is the gayest damn shit I ever heard, Hubba Bubba. What do we got here? “My Pictures” Wow, is that your family?

Wade: Yes. But like I said, the computer’s broken, so we should probably wait…

Jerry: Wow. Who knew they could all fit in the goddamn frame! You folks look like a big bag of Jet Puffed Marshmallows!

Wade: (very nervous) Thank you, sir. But I really do think you should just leave it…

Jerry: What’s this? “My History”?

Wade: NO! No no no, that’s nothing. You could freeze it up again, sir.

Jerry: “Givemepink.com”? I’m assuming that’s some sort of cotton candy lovers site, yes? (logs on)

Wade: SIR!

Jerry: HOOOOOOOOLEEE SHIT!!!!! Good God, I can practically see the roof of that girl’s mouth through her ass! You are one SICK FAT FUCK, chubbers!

Wade: (terrifed) Please, sir. I can explain, sir.

Jerry: And look at this Sandra girl! Holy dogshit! I didn’t even know you could put stuff in THAT hole! Maybe this computer shit ain’t so faggoty after all!

Wade: (terrifed) Please, sir. I’m begging for some discretion here.

Jerry: Oh never mind that shit, Fat Jemima. I don’t care about you gummin’ up yer keyboard with your special sauce. At least you ain’t looking at that chub porn. You can’t tell where one ass ends an the other begins when you look at that shit!

Wade: I was really just trying to open up a spreadsheet.

Jerry: Boy, the only sheet you spread is the one you use for your daily wing picnic out in the courtyard! Quit your groveling. You’ve given me a whole new idea, fatass. You know, we live in an awfully open society these days. What’s to stop anyone from hopping on this computin’ machine and checking out girls like this getting their asses hammered? I ask you: What?

Wade: Uh, nothing?

Jerry: Elementary, my dear Fatson. Nothing at all! We could use this at my new stadium!

Wade: Sir?

Jerry: Didn’t I tell you my boy ROMO was a goddamn star? Didn’t I? HE’S A GODDAMN STAR! Not only is he a star, but he’s a sex symbol! And he calls the shots for America’s sexiest team! I want my new stadium to be the most sensual new sports venue in the world! WHY SHOULD VEGAS HAVE A STRANGLEHOLD ON OPEN PUSSY?!

Wade: I think that’s a bad idea, sir. This is a family venue.

Jerry: Shut up, John Donut. If you can see it online, you should be able to see it at my stadium! Hey, Princeton Boy! Get in here!

Wade: What?

(door flies open)

Garrett: Oh, dear. A fat man with pornographic images at his computing station. Why, there’s something you see every day now, don’t you?

Wade: Oh be quiet, you big jerk.

Garrett: I’m just considering the machinations required for you to be able to manipulate yourself to orgasm. My engineering friends back in Princeton will be quite interested to know how you “pulled it off,” so to speak.

Wade: I hate you.

Jerry: Jason, what you think about having these young gash-spreaders at the opening of my new stadium?

Garrett: Hmm. Bold. Daring. Innovative. I like it, sir.

Wade: You’re just kissing his ass.

Jerry: Adam! Come look at what’s on coach’s computer!

Wade: No.

(door flies open)

Pacman: Them bitches be prudes. Ain’t no fire hose up in there. Pacman ain’t down wid it.

Jerry: Hmm. We need more feedback on this. Everyone! Can you all come in here please!

Wade: NO!

Jerry: Take a look at what Jerk Nowitzki was looking at in here.

Wade: This is the worst day ever.

Jerry: YEEEEHAW!!!! WOO HOO!!! LOOK AT THAT PORN! I’M A GODDAMN GENIUS, FATBAG! WHOOOOOOPEEEEE!!!! I AM GODDAMN CRAZY!!!

(eats Primanti sub)

Man, it’s already primary day n’at. Gotta head dahntahn. Who yinz votin’ fur? I’ve been tinkin’ real hard ahn this one, but I just can’t decide if I should vote for dat skinny black kid or dat scary-looking white dude.

(eats tray of macaroni and cheese using small shovel)

I mean, I kinda like dat black kid. I’ve never hoid a blackie talk like that. Sometime I tink he’s just a white guy who got lost in a coal mine for, like, a real long time. But den I see him ahn Oprah, and he starts with the “urban” talk, like “Yo go girl!” n’at. I don’t really like that. Why can’t dey talk normal likes us folks?

I already kinda daw-out whether the skinny black guy can do it. I voted for Swannie for governor and he didn’t win. If Swannie can’t do it, Stallworth probably couldn’t. And if Stallworth couldn’t, Yancey Thigpen would prawbably be hard-pressed. If so, this guy is just jaggin’ us around.

Yinz think they let you drink Ahrns in the voting booth?

(eats large plate of fatback, offers you some)

Did jeat yet? Jeat? Yo man, you gotta try dis. It’s like the best part of bacon! Only bigger! Anyways, I kinda like dat black kid. But I dunno, he seems awfully smart. And dose smart people, they always tink they’re better dan folks like me. I mean, I put my pants on one size-72 leg at a time. I bet dis black kid don’t. I bet he got some fancy-ass, pants-putting-on machine. The kind they give out at Harvard. I don’t like people like dat. Dey’re not real.

(drinks liquefied ham sandwich)

Den again, he seems like an okay guy. He says folks like me are bitter. And dis is true. I am bitter. BITTER THAT THOSE STUPID FUCKIN’ JAGUIRES TOOK OUT MY BELOVED STILLERS! DAT’S NOT A REAL TEAM! WHERE’S DA HISTORY?! So yeah, he was kinda right dere. I’m so pissed about that loss, I just wanna go shoot someone in the name of Jesus.

Den again, that little blackie can’t bowl! I don’t trust no one dat can’t roll. If you’re gonna come to Picksberg, you better be ready to bowl. Dat guy on dat 9/11 plane was. He said, “Let’s roll,” den came right here to Pennsylvania. Dis is where folks wanna bowl. That Yomama guy sure did bowl like a fairy. And I can’t vote for a fairy. Black is okay. But a black fairy? Dat’s like, tree strikes. Get aht tahwn, jagoff!

(folds entire Papa John’s pizza in half, eats in one bite)

I need a candidate whose gahn deal with the shit I need to get done. I want a president whose gahn make sure I can always drive my truck 100 mph down the PA turnpike and run smaller cars off da road. I need a candidate who’s gahn make sure those crazy immigrants don’t take my job, or any of this delicious blueberry pie!

(buries face in pie)

I dunno if little Urkel’s gonna do all dat. Also, he might be a terrorist.

But he might be better dan dis guy!

Hoooooo! Dat is one scary lookin’ white dude! I saw him at our bar just da other night. He had dis scary face and really HUGE ass. I mean, I seen some big asses in my day. But you could hit golf balls against dis one! I mean, he’s all right. He sounds like he’s one of us. My boy Jeff did two shots with him. Then, he threw a dart right in that ass. The dude didn’t even blink! Dat’s pretty good, if you ask me.

(eats emporer-sized PayDay bar)

Plus dis white guy likes to shoot guns. And I like to shoot guns, too! We got so much in common like dat! Not like dat Harvard guy. Plus, I kept asking dis guy what he was gonna do for me. Was he gonna help cut out a larger doorway in my house? Was he gonna lower all those taxes I pay? I paid, like, $15 last year! Bull shit! Was he gonna widen da highways so I can swerve all over da road like I love to do? Was he gonna nuke da crazy out dem towelheads?

And he said yes, he would! Dat’s good stuff.

Den again, he’s got one weird voice. I feel like I’m at da zoo whenever I hear dat shit. It makes my penis stop working.

Da real question dough is, which one of dese guys likes da Stillers most? Dat’s what’s really what matters to me most. IIIIIIIII GOT A FEEEEEEEELING PICKSBERG’S GOING TAH THE SOOPER BOWL!

Wade: Hoo boy! Preparin’ for this draft certainly has been a mountain of work. Back in my daddy’s day, we’d never have dreamed of this level of preparation: scouting reports, interviews, workouts, background checks, statistical analyses. My, my goodness. I tell ya, it’s nothing like it used to be. Heck, I could work 24 hours a day and there’d still be more to do if I wanted to!

But I tell you what. Ain’t no rule saying I can’t burn the midnight oil without treating myself to a bottle of suds or two.

(opens office mini fridge)

Yep, it’s eight o-clock. Past the point of no return. If I’m gonna be late preparing these here scouting reports, I may as well settle in for the long haul. There’s something about a beer late at the office. It makes work feel a whole lot less work-like, I reckon. I’m sure gonna enjoy this.

(pops bottle)

Now to simply bring the bottle to my lips and tip it back so that the frosty liquid can, by force of gravity, fall into my mouth…

(door flies open)

Jerry: YEEEEEEEEHAAWWWWWW!!!!!! Yee! Haw! YEEHAW!

Wade: Oh, no.

Jerry: Well, well, well! Drinking on the job, are ya, Chubtard?!

Wade: Sir, I hadn’t even…

Jerry: CHUBTARD CHUBTARD CHUBTARD CHUBTARD CHUBTARD!!!! You like that name, Chubtard?! I thought of it when I was bareback riding my bull over here tonight! I like it because it says you’re both chubby AND retarded! And you are! CHUBTARD!

Wade: I don’t like that name, Sir.

Jerry: That’s what makes it so fun to say, Minister Fudge! Now, what the fuck makes your fat ass think you can drink alkeehol on the job? You don’t own this team! Know who does? Huh? Do you know, Fat The Dripper?

Wade: You do, Sir.

Jerry: YOU GODDAMN RIGHT! THE OL’ DOUBLE-J, OWNER OF THE DALLAS COWBOYS, MOST VALUABLE FRANCHISE IS ALL OF SPORTS AND CROWN JEWEL OF THE GREAT STATE OF TIXAS! TIXAS!!!!!

Wade: Yes, Sir.

Jerry: Hey, Fatlock! Only the DOUBLE-J gets to enjoy his alkeehol on the job! You got me, Faaaatlock?

Wade: Yes, Sir.

Jerry: What kinda fucking beer you drinkin’ anyhow, Chubtard? Bud Light?! BAHAHAHA! That ain’t no drink! (pours self drink that’s one half sarsaparilla and one half skin liniment) Now THERE’S a drink! I do like my sassparilly! You ever try sassparilly, Captain Cumbersome?

Wade: No, sir. Not really my cup of tea.

Jerry: Not your cup of tea? TEA? Jesus, for someone with such a loose ass, you sure are a tightass. You stir that tea with a black cock? Drink some of this, Tubby.

Wade: Sir, I…

Jerry: Just try it. You need to loosen up, Fatty. Matter of fact, put that work aside for tonight. We’re gonna get shitfaced, then we’re gonna head over to the titty bar and get TITFACED!

Wade: But these scouting reports!

Jerry: Oh, fuck the scouting reports! We’re not gonna need those this year, Pop Secret. Double-J’s got a slippery ace up his ol’ sleeve. Now drink, Dumpty! DRINK YOU BIG FAT FAGGOT!

(two hours later at a bar)

Wade: (drunk, singing) You wanna be startin’ something! You got be startin’ somethin’! Mama say mama sah nama moo sah! Mama say mama sah nama moo sah! Mama say mama sah nama moo sah!

Jerry: (also drunk) SING IT, BOY! HOO WEE, YOU’RE JUST LIKE THE FAT CHICK FROM HEART!

Wade: Mama say mama sah nama moo sah! Mama say mama sah nama moo sah! Mama say mama sah nama moo sah!

Jerry: I tell ya, you aren’t such a bad time when you got a little liquor in you, Chubtard.

Wade: Well, you never asked to hang out.

Jerry: Oh, bullllshit, you big fat dicklicker! I invite you out all the time! I invited you to my wife’s daffodil party!

Wade: You made me bartend.

Jerry: THAT’S BECAUSE EVERY GOOD PARTY NEEDS A FAT, FRIENDLY BARTENDER! IN A BOWTIE!

Wade: (does a shot) I never liked you, Jones. You ain’t no better a man than me.

Jerry: Well, I’m sorry you feel that way, Mr. Chow. I didn’t mean no harm. I wouldn’t keep you around here if I didn’t think you were the right man for the job.

Wade: You mean it?

Jerry: I do.

Wade: Will you shake on that?

Jerry: I will.

(shakes Wade’s hand, knocks him out with one punch)

(cut to one day later)

Wade: Wha… where am I?

Wade: Who are all these children? (phone rings) Hello?

Jerry: YEEEEEEHAW!!!!!! WAKE UP, CHUBTARD!

Wade: Where am I?

Jerry: You are at a home I recently purchased for a young man named Darren McFadden. And, more specifically, for his many various offspring.

Wade: But why?

Jerry: I told you my boy ROMO was goddamn STAR, didn’t I? And I told you he needed more stars, did I not? Well, this young man is a goddamn SUPERSTAR! And we’re gonna make him the next great running back for the Dallas Cowboys! I’m trading all our picks to get him! But I need my boy MCFADDEN to focus! I can’t have him worrying about those little babies scurrying around and shitting all over the place! YOU will get to oversee their growth and what not personally. It’s Fatty Day Care!!!

Wade: So this is why you got me drunk? So you could trap me here!

Jerry: That’s my boy Wade! Always figuring out shit AFTER it’s happened! Way to go, Tits-fer-brains! Now listen, those octuplets need formula on a staggered rotation of every five minutes! And you better get it to them soon! Darren ain’t been home for seven days! Look how pale those little bastards are! They’re barely half-Negro anymore! There’s also three more kids upstairs. And six more in the basement. And his latest, Superb, is due from the hospital later today. Oh, and there’s Maury.

Maury: Hey.

Wade: Who’s Maury?

Jerry: He’s Darren’s oldest son. Make sure he gets his Weetabix in the mornin’, or he gets feisty!

Maury: Where’s my cereal, bitch?

Wade: But who will take care of the team while I’m doing this?

Jerry: You can talk to him yourself.

(passes phone)

Garrett: Hmm. I was told those children needed a father figure. But you’re more figure than father now, aren’t you?

Wade: You dirty snake!

Garret: Oops. Gotta run. Ta!

(passes phone back)

Wade: Shit.

Jerry: Enjoy the not-quite-miracle of foster fatherhood, Chubtard! YEEEEEHAWWWWW!!! WOOOO HOOOOOOO I AM FUCKING CRAZY!!!!

Think I’m finally getting a handle on all this grief weight. I know the founder of Popeyes isn’t coming back, but he’d want us to soldier on in his memory.

And there are really so many fast food options, for all parts of the day. Heck, Taco Bell invented a whole new meal. A fourth meal.

I’m like Prufrock — I can measure out my day in drivethroughs. But I’m thinking healthy now. Maybe I’ll use one of those fancy innernet gizmos to map out my course of eating tomorrow. This time, I might even walk it.

Let me just sign in real quick.

Hey, what’s this?

“Egg McMuffin inventor Herb Peterson dies”

Oh no.

Oh no no no.

[Eats handful of Funyuns]

Omm mom mom erm foom