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!!!!

I’ve got my Rally Rag ready. No way those Terrible Towels gonna embarrass us this week! We’re gonna take it to these Cowgirls. ‘Skins can’t possibly win this game by any less than four scores. BLITZ THE PINKY! BLITZ THE PINKY! The way we got embarrassed in our last game was only ’cause we had a late bye week. No rested Redskins team woulda lost that one. Now we’re prepared for the stretch run.

COOOOOOOOOOOLLLLEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYY!

I’ll say realistic Redskins finish is 12-4. 13-3 if we just cut the shit and start Colt Brennan already. He’s the man of the people! We’d be playing a Sundee in February with him.

Bandwagon starts up again this week. DeAngelo Hall is just the dynasty-sparking aquisition we’ve been waiting for. No Portis means Shaun Alexander goes for 150 yards! Stock market rebounds on the strength of a Warrshington victory!

HAIL!

Can you spot the Pulitzer Prize winner in this photo? Hint: It’s not the tubby albino asshole in the failed hipster ensemble!

Photo by Michael Gluckstadt at Gelf

Wade: (paces back and forth) Oh, FUCK. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. That did NOT go well. We got our dang lunch handed to us out there! Oh God, what do I do? I’m dead. I’m so dead. I’m so dead.

Wait, you know what? I’ve been doing this shit for years now, freaking out any time that crazy asshole’s about to open that door. Well, NOT THIS TIME! This time, I’m gonna do what my daddy always said to do when somethin’ went wrong. MAN UP. Time for me to quit havin’ a big ol’ pity party and take CHARGE. And I know exactly what I’m gonna do.

(picks up phone)

Jennifer, can you send Coach Garrett into my office? Thank you.

(door flies open)

Garrett: Mmmm. Yes. Indeed. What seems to be the problem, my good man? Did you drop the rest of your Almond Joy on the ground, and now find yourself lacking the capacity to bend at the waist in order to retrieve it, wherever your waist may be located?

Wade: You’re fired.

Garrett: Pardon?

Wade: You’re fired.

Garrett: Come again?

Wade: You’re fired.

Garrett: Could you put that in a more erudite, Princeton way of phrasing?

Wade: You’re fired.

Garrett: Am I to take it that you mean I’m being expurgated?

Wade: Yes. I want to move in a new direction there, coach Garrett. So please pack up your things and go.

Garrett: Oh. Mmm hmm. I see. Hmm. Tee hee. Ho ho. Tee hee hee. Ha ha ha. Chuckle chuckle. GUFFAW! HEARTY GUFFAWING! LOUD, EBULLIENT GUFFAWING IN YOUR GENERAL DIRECTION!

Wade: What’s so dang funny?

Garrett: BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Judd! Judd, my dear brother! Come hither at once!

(door flies open)

Judd: Dearest elder brother, I rushed here as soon as I could! Are you all right? Did this hideous sea creature try and consume you whole, as the whale once engulfed Jonah? My God, the smell! It infiltrates all my olfactory receptacles! I say, my nose is under severe duress!

Garrett: No, my dear brother. Nothing is wrong at all. I just thought I’d share with you an amusing anecdote. It seems that our “boss” here (stifles laughter), has just informed me of my impending termination.

Judd: No.

Garrett: It’s true!

Judd: Fire a Princeton man? Surely he jests!

Garrett: He does not jest!

Judd: No jesting of any sort?

Garrett: He has not jested in any fashion!

Judd: Surely, his lack of jesting is most jest-worthy!

Garrett: Indeed!

Judd: Huzzah! What a jester!

Garrett: I must tell our good friend Bill Kristol of this jesting merriment!

Judd: Indeed! I’ve never heard such an amusing jesture!

Garrett: Ha ha ha!

Wade: I don’t know what you two think is so dang amusing. Jason, I am the head coach of this team. And that means I have control over my staff. So I am firing you. And you too, Judd.

Judd: Oh, no! He’s fired me too!

Garrett: What a cavalcade of misfortune, dear brother!

Judd: How will we ever survive, good sir? With our excellent pedigrees, and sterling resumes, and pure European blood? BAHAHAHAHA!

Garrett: BAHAHAHA! Oh God! Someone tell him to stop! I can’t take it… all this jesting!

Judd: Brother! Brother! Is this not just like the time back at our Princeton eating club? When we ATE?! And then told Blakeley Chumwell that his girlfriend was NOT a member of the Mayflower Society?

Garrett: Oh, yes! That was an excellent jesting! And a good eating that resulted!

Judd: Indeed. There’s nothing like a good jesting paired with a good eating.

Wade: YOU TWO ARE FIRED! GET OUTTA THIS BUILDING RIGHT NOW!

Garrett: Oh ho ho, good man. Surely you know you can’t possibly fire us.

Wade: Why not? Who says I can’t?

(door flies open)

Jerry: YEEEEEEHAW!!!!!! WHOOP WHOOP WHOOPITY ASSBANGAROO!! WHERE IS THAT FAT FUCK?!

Wade: Sir.

Jerry: YOU FAT SHIT! YOU BIG FAT USELESS TUB OF SHORTENING! YOU FUCKING SPOONBREAD-EATING GLOP OF SHIT-STUDDED BROWNIE DOUGH! YOU ARE FAT!

Wade: Sir, I know we’re struggling right now, but I am taking measures to get us back on track.

Jerry: Oh really, Boxy Brown? Do you have some sort of big fat magic wand that can git my boy ROMO back out on that field?! Didn’t I tell you my boy ROMO was a star?

Wade: I believe you may at one time have…

Jerry: HE’S A GODDAMN STAR! And you are FUCKING UP HIS TEAM with your big fat sausage fingers! You fat asshole! I made reservations for Tampa ages ago, AND YOU ARE FUCKING THOSE PLANS UP, FARTBURGER. Switzer and I already reserved a room with 12 megabars. WE WERE GONNA FUCK HALF OF TAMPA!

Wade: Sir. I have a handle on the situation. And I am taking action right this minute, starting with the dismissal of these two gentlemen.

Jerry: WHAT?

Garrett: Afraid so, Mr. Jones. It would seem that our buxom chap here has deemed that neither my or my dear brother’s dexterous minds are no longer welcome.

Judd: Indeed.

Jerry: He tried to fire you both? Well, that is… THAT IS THE FUNNIEST GODDAMN THING I EVER HEARD!

Garrett: I know! Don’t you find it a jesting worthy of Marceau?

Jerry: Oh, Tubby. I’ll give you one thing, fatass. You sure know how to lighten up the mood around these parts!

Wade: I wasn’t joking!

Jerry: Oh, please. Who would have called the plays if you had fired these two?

Wade: I would have.

Jerry: BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! Oh, that’s even better! I can picture you on the helmet radio now! “Say, this here’s Coach Fatass. I’d like a large pepperoni, three large Meat Lover’s, an egg yolk milkshake, a whole roasted elephant, and a side of brie cheese fries.”

Garrett: Don’t forget the Gatorade cooler filled with chocolate mousse!

Judd: Or the defibrillator!

Jerry: BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!

Wade: This is serious! I’m taking charge here!

Jerry: Oh, son. The only thing you’re allowed to take charge of here is the FroYo bar! NOW GO FIND ME A QUARTERBACK WHO DOESN’T THROW LIKE A GODDAMN RODEO FAGGOT!

(door flies open)

Pacman: Yo yo. Pacman be hidn out wit dem hos from da Gold Club. Pacman likey how dat azz be bouncn. He gon shine. He gon slap dem unyunz and den frost dat cupcake. Pacman down wid it. He gon go ackylacky on dat azz.

Jerry: Hey Adam, did you hear that tubby here tried to fire the Garretts?

Pacman: O, dat funny. Like dem Way-nz. Dey make dem white chicks n shit. Pacman down wid it. Pacman take dem white chicks and plug dat drain. Den he do da sticky sticky wit dat sirrup. And he gon drank. O, you say he kan’t drank? Nuh nuh nuh. He gon drank. Pacman say ain’t no drank drank till dem white chicks get da white skeet on they shoez.

Garrett: Indeed! What a fine day of jesting this has become!

Wade: This sucks.

Jerry: YEEEE HAWWWW! WOOHOO! YOU’RE POWERLESS, FAT ASS!!!! THE ONLY THING YOU CAN TERMINATE IS YOUR WEIGHT WATCHERS CONTRACT! WOOO HOOOO YEEE DOGGIE I AM FUCKING CRAZY!!!!

Wade: Well, well, well. This has been one heckuva week, ain’t it? Sweet mercy, we have had a time. Those pesky Cardinals done us in, and now we got so many injuries, I think we ran out of bandages!

But I think we’ll be okay.

We’re early in the season, and this team is still 4-2. That ain’t bad. I think this crew needed to experience a bit of adversity. I think they needed to understand that you can’t just expect games to be given to you. I think we’ll grow from this. I really do. We’re gonna be a better team.

Oh, who the hell am I kidding? WE’RE SCREWED!

Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit. What am I gonna do? I gotta have a solution ready for when that lunatic comes through that door! Think, Wade, think! Must have a plan… gotta think of something before it all goes to…

(door flies open)

Jerry: YOU FAT FUCKING SHIT! YOU FUCKING LAZY , FAT, FUCKING LAZY FAT SAUSAGE BREATHER! YOU FUCKING TOLD ME TO GET MY RING FINGER READY, YOU FAT SHIT!

Wade: Now, calm down there, sir. We can’t just panic at the first sign of trouble. We gotta keep a level head here.

Jerry: Oh, I do? Gotta keep a level head, eh, Meatball? Is that what I’m supposed to do? I’m just supposed to kick back WHILE YOUR FAT ASS RUNS MY TEAM INTO THE FUCKING GROUND?!

Wade: I have a plan, sir.

Jerry: Shut up shut up shut up shut up. SHUT YOUR FATHOLE! No one wants to hear your suggestions, Eli Sundae! I already traded for Roy Williams. ANOTHER BIG CALF ROPED IN BY THE DOUBLE-J! YEEHAW!

Wade: Sir, with all due respect, you hired me to be the coach of this team. Now, how can I be an effective coach of any sort if you won’t let me have input, or implement any of the things I want to implement? Why have me around if you don’t want me to do my job?

Jerry: BECAUSE YOU’RE FAT, FATTY! You look at you, waddling around like giant tit with two legs. YOU CAN’T PUT A PRICE ON THAT KINDA ENTERTAINMENT, SENOR FROGLEG! Don’t you worry about a thing, Tubby. The ol’ Double-J has got this situation under firm control!

Wade: Okay, so what’s your plan?

Jerry: Well, it’s obvious that you, in all your fatness, haven’t set a healthy example for this team, LEON SWEAT! That’s why we got so many guys on the fucking injury list. THEY’VE ALL BEEN WATCHING YOU SCARF DOWN CINNAMON ROLLS AND DRINKING CAKE BATTER! We need more doctors in here to keep this team healthy. That’s why I’m EXPANDING THE TRAINING STAFF, TUBMARINE!

Wade: Expanding the training staff?

Jerry: That’s right, meatlover. I’ve called every doctor I know. Doctor Who, Dr. No, Dr. Drew, Dr. Bricker, Dr. Phil, Dr. Pepper, Dr. Detroit, Dr. Joyce Brothers, Dr. James Andrews, Dr. House, Dr. Marvin Monroe, Dr. Zaius, Dr. Rosenpenis, Dr. Kevorkian, Dr. Doom, Dr. J, Dr. Hook…

Wade: I’m not sure any of these…

Jerry: SHUT YOUR CHICKENHOLE! Dr. Jerry Punch, The Fight Doctor Ferdie Pacheco, The Rug Doctor STEAMING MAD AT FUCKING DIRT, Dr. Octopus, Doctor doctor gimme the news, Dr. Strangleove, Dr. Demento, Dr. Teeth and The Electric Mayhem, Dr. Dre (the fat one), Dr. Martin van Nostrand, Doctors Strombridge and Greenbaum, Dr. Zhivago, Dr. Gonzo, Dr. Moreau, Dr. Feelgood, Dr. Meredith Grey, Dr. Doug Ross, Dr. Bunsen Honeydew, Dr. Beeper, Dr. Lector, Dr. Frankenstein, Dr. Jekyll, Dr. Cornel West, Dr. Faustus, Dr. Huxtable, Dr. Frasier Crane, Dr. Katz, Dr. Death Steve Williams, Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman, Doc Holliday, Dr. Doogie Howser, Dr. Claw, Dr. Richard Kimble, Dr. Zoidberg, Dr. Bill Harford, and Dr. Tim Whatley. HOW YOU LIKE THAT FOR A MEDICAL STAFF, FATASS?!

Wade: That’s a lotta doctors.

Jerry: These docs will monitor my boy ROMO’s pinky 24 hours a day! You hear me? I want that little finger of his going wiggle wiggle by tomorrow morning! FUCK, FOR THIS MONEY, I WANT IT TO BE ABLE TO FUCKING FINGER BANG! I want full assfingerbanging capability restored to my boy Romo, stat!

Wade: But it’s already broken, it…

Jerry: And I want Felix Jones’ hammy replaced with TWO NEW HAMSTRINGS. I WANT DOUBLE HAMSTRINGS, HAM ANDERSON!

Wade: I’m not you can…

Jerry: And I want Terence Newman’s hernia welded shut!

Wade: I don’t know how…

Jerry: And one more thing, Jabba…

(door flies open)

Pacman: Yo yo. Pacman go 2 da corna office wher dat firebox say SHIT B OFF. SHIT B FUKKIN OFF. Pacman ain’t down wid it. Where ma spec? Pacman don’t cause no trizzle. All Pacman want wuz 2 gang up on dat creampie and put da skeez on dem kneez. Pacman say dat ok. He gon shine. He down wid it. Don’t Firebox lissen fo SHIT.

Jerry: Now Adam, we’re all very disappointed in the commissioner’s ruling. But these doctors here are gonna help you!

Pacman: Man, fuk dem Quincy ass bitches. Pacman don’t wan no house call unless dat azz b knockin’ on da door. Pacman gon do the injectin’. He gon take hiz nightstick and beat dat pussy up lef an right. BULEEV DAT. Gon make dat pussy cry like ma shortiez. Split dat bitch up till she need dem stichez. And Pacman gon drank. Oh, he gon DRANK. Pacman say ain’t no drank drank till he put da hot sauce on dem azzcakes. He gon gobble dat azz up. Chomp dat azz till dat azz b gon.

(porthole flies open)

Dr. Bricker: Azzcakes? Sounds naughty!

Wade: What’s an azzcake?

Jerry: IT’S AN IMPORTANT MEDICAL TERM, FATTY! I want you to personally oversee this new medical staff. It’s gonna be YOUR JOB to make sure all my goddamn STARS get back out onto that fucking field, Dr. Fatkins! You got me?

Wade: I don’t have time to oversee a staff this large. We gotta deal with those pesky Rams. Who’s gonna help prepare the team?

(door flies open)

Garrett: Mmmm. Yes. Indeed. Never you mind that, my portly compatriot. I have a prescription for our offense. A HEALTHY DOSE OF GUMPTION!

Wade: Why, you lowdown snake!

Garrett: Don’t fear, my good man. My new Princeton Offense will soon be the darling of the League. The scuttlebutt will grow by the minute! Of course, I assume you know about the butt than the scuttle.

Jerry: Princeton Offense? I like the sound of that!

Garrett: Ah, excellent. The secret ingredient will be CUTS!

Wade: That doesn’t sound very innovative.

Jerry: YOU SHUT UP, MOZZARELLA STICK FIGURE! My boy GARRETT knows what he’s doing! Now you hit that training room, and steer clear of Doc Ock’s tentacles! I heard they tore one of the assistants titties clean off!

Pacman: Pacman down wid dat.

Wade: This sucks.

Jerry: YEEEE HAWWWW! WOOHOO! SOMEBODY PUT ME ON A PLANE SO I CAN FUCK A STEWARDESS IN THE MOUTH! GOD DAMMIT, I AM FUCKING CRAZY!!!!

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!!!!