Wade: Ahhhh, nothing quite as relaxing as a hard-earned bye. The players got a nice, light workout today, and I’ve got the assistants studying game film for any of the three teams we could face a week from Sunday. I think it’s time I got to work on my New Year’s resolution.

(gets on treadmill in office)

(begins jogging)

Phew! This is harder than I remember! Just gotta get in the groove… C’mon, Wade!

(door flies open)

Jerry: YEEEEEEEEEEEHAWWWWW!!! I thought I smelled pan drippings in here!

Wade: Oh… (panting) … No.

Jerry: Get off that treadmill, Rosa Porks! Look at you. Your t-shirt’s soaked with gravy!

Wade: Sir, that’s my sweat. I’m trying to get healthier in the new year.

Jerry: The hell you are! You’ll get a fucking heart attack when I TELL you to have a heart attack! Don’t even think about freelancing on me!

Listen up, you disgusting food blister. You got more important things to be doing than marinating in your own juices.

Wade: Oh, no. What do I have to do now?

Jerry: That goddam Simpson whore tried to sink our season! I want YOU to make sure my boy ROMO doesn’t invite her back to the stadium when we kill those Seattle faggots!

Wade: Sir, it’s pretty unlikely we’ll face the Seahawks.

Jerry: Who said anything about football, turdcurd? I’m inviting Schultz and Bezos for some golf this weekend, then Johnson’s gonna blast their heads off when I give ‘em a tour of the locker room! HOO WEE! Can you believe that?!? I’M CRAZY!!!

Wade: You hired Tank Johnson to murder two billionaires?

Jerry: HIRED? We already have that felon under contract, you goddam Hefty bag of Chunky soup! It’s YOUR job to convince him when to do it!

Wade: And you don’t want Jessica Simpson here with Romo when our defensive tackle is killing your enemies?

Jerry: I don’t want her here EVER, Fatsy Cline! I want them broken up by the end of the week or I’m canceling your Christmas bonus! Say goodbye to your bag of jalapeno poppers!

Wade: Sir, how am I supposed to break up our quarterback and his girlfriend?

Jerry: Easy. Check out this cherry piece of ass!

Wade: Mr. Jones, that’s my daughter.

Jerry: You bet your motherlard of a keister it is! That’s why it’s so perfect! You can set ‘em up tomorrow!

Wade: Sir, I don’t know if–

Jerry: Look at that little piece of Texas tail! She’s got her momma’s legs and her daddy’s titties!

Wade: Sir!

Jerry: Now, ROMO likes ‘em famous, so play up her new movie and tell him she’s gonna win a damn Oscar. And tell her to play it fast and loose. I ain’t gonna lose a Super Bowl because that slut didn’t give him the full casting couch treatment.

Wade: What–?

Jerry: Don’t act surprised, Peter Porker! Your daughter’s been auditioning in LA for over a year! She’s seen more wieners and batter than a Mayer-Butterworth wedding!

Wade: …

Jerry: HOO HOO! I can’t wait for my boy ROMO to dump a load of Arlington man chowder on her head! I want a full report on whether she can sit down the next day! And pencil me in for next Wednesday. Double-J needs his ashes hauled!

Wade: I hate this job.

Jerry: Wahoo! I’m gonna win it all this year thanks to that tramp’s tangy little juicebox! You’re my best hire ever, Billups!

Wade: Phillips.

Jerry: YAAAAHOOOO! ¡ARRIBA ARRIBA! ¡ÁNDALE! I AM FUCKING CRAZYYY!!!

Let’s see what else is going on around the league:

Hmmm. Pro Bowl rosters announced. Hey, a league-high 11 Cowboys! That’s even more than New England. Wonder how we swung that?

What’s this sidebar? “Parcells rejects Falcons offer, may join Dolphins.” Hoo boy.

(door flies open)

Jerry: YYYYYYYEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAWWWWW

Wade: Oh lordie.

Jerry: Your Lord is right, Bulbous the Blubber Beefcake! Can you believe what the media is saying the world-beating squad I’ve assembled is the work of Parcells? They say he’s gonna replicate the task in Miami. He didn’t even want T.O. or my great goddamn star ROMO.

Wade: You can’t really concern yourself with what the media says, sir.

Jerry: YOU BETTER GODDAMN BELIEVE I CAN, CAUTIONARY WHALE!

(flips on TV)

Parcells: It’s like I said, you scribbling little faggots: I’ll fix this little pathetic fucking franchise right up in no time, just like I did in New England, New York and Dallas. Write that shit down and shove it in your peehole, twinkledick. Please refer all follow-up questions to the back of your sallow teeth, shitheads.

(turns TV off)

Jerry: Did you hear that, Mother Flubber? I know if he said all-you-can-eat moon pie night, you’d have fucking heard him clear as a Day’s Inn seafood buffet, Lard O’ Lakes.

Wade: He did do a fine job of getting the team back on track after a few losing seasons.

Jerry: He did a fine job of HORSE SHIT, Hamhock! He couldn’t even win a goddamn playoff game. This success has all been the makings of Double-J! Now you better get your fat on the road and deliver me a Super Bowl, or I won’t give you this hover scooter for Christmas so you can float your flab ass to the refrigerator and back.

Wade: I’ll do what I can, sir.

Jerry: YEEHAW!!! WOO HOO!! I AM FUCKING CRAZY!!!