Mike Wallace: Looks like we’re getting a home game for the AFC Championship, after all.

Lawrence Timmons: Yup.

Mike Wallace: Not gonna be easy. We lost to these guys already. At least we got Troy back this time.

Troy Polamalu: [Crosses himself, says something quiet about Jesus]

Mike Wallace: You think he’s gonna say something this week?

Lawrence Timmons: No doubt in my mind.

Mike Wallace: Why is this the most stilted conversation I’ve ever had?

Lawrence Timmons: I dunno.

[Door flies open]

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Mike Tunison: WOOOOOOOOO! Gameday, baybee! Gonna rock the shit outta these San Diego Stupor Chargers! WE’RE FROM THE TOWN WITH A GREAT FOOTBALL TEAM! BOM BOM BOM BOM! WE CHEER THE PITTSBURGH STEELERS!

[Cranks Boards of Canada album]

Jean Grey: Merrrow

Mike: Yeah hi Jean.

Jean: Merrrrrrrrrrow

Mike: What, goddammit?

Mike: What do you want? Food? Can’t you see I’m too busy writing retard Ben and racist Hines posts? Switching L’s and R’s is strenuous work. God forbid Hines wants to run another flea flicker this week. What is that…free frickel?

Jean: Merrrrrrrrrow

Mike: SHUT UP KITTEH! THAT’S A BAD KITTEH!

[Knock on door]

Mike: Awesome! There’s the pizza.

[Door flies open]

Philip Rivers: Ya betta ask somebodddddddaaaaaayyyyyyyy!

Mike: It can’t be.

Rivers: OH BUT IT IS, COCKWALLET. What the shit is this dump? You’d be better off in your parent’s basement. They got a pool table down there. I bet an actual ape lives in better conditions. THE SERVANT’S QUARTERS AT LASERFACE MANOR IS NICER THAN THIS FUCKING LITTER-STREWN HOVEL! I COULD WIPE MY ASS ON YOUR DINNER TABLE AND IT’D BE WORTH MORE THAN EVERYTHING EXCEPT YOUR LAPTOP. MAYBE I’LL WIPE MY ASS ON THAT!

Mike: How the…? What is the…? The fuck?

Rivers: The fuck is right, blog bitch. My Tiny Darren showed me how you’ve besmirched the Marmalard brand name on your web log. You can make fictional me, but you can’t make a fictional LaToeInjury who doesn’t play like an infected labia or a defense that can actually stop someone? CHEW ON And we both know I’ve never said “ya betta ask somebodddddayyyyyy” in my life.

Mike: But you just said it when you came in here.

Rivers: Look, I, what I…FUCK YOU, KISSING SUZY’S CORNHOLE BOY!

Jean: Merrrrooowww

Rivers: Awwwww, is this yo widdle fuzziewumpkins?

WHAT SELF-RESPECTING MAN HAS A FUCKING CAT!? UNLESS YOU’RE A BOND VILLAIN, THAT SHIT IS JAY CUTLER GAY! JUST LOOK AT THIS 10-POUND BAG OF FUZZY SHIT AND FELINE AIDS.

[Picks up cat and hurls it across the room. Jean floats in the air long enough to give herself a bath, then lands on her feet and walks into the next room]

I got your team today, blog bitch. You think it’s great at have a little titter at my expense. But I’m the second-rated QB in the league while Braindead Ben is hanging below Gus Frerotte. WHAT’S YOUR BLOG MOT FOR THAT. HUH? WHAT? HUH? FUCK YOU!

Mike: Well what the fuck are you doing here? The game’s about to start.

Rivers: Cutlerfucker! [Runs off down hall, knocking over pizza guy in the process]

Mike: [Writes more one-handed blog posts]