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]

Ben Roethlisberger: HI TEAM! HOW IS THE FUCK DOING?

THE BEN TOOK A SHIT. IT WAS LONG AND BROWN AND IN THE TURLET. THE BEN TOOK A PICTURE ON HIS PHONE THEN DROPPED THE PHONE IN THE TURLET. THEN THEN BEN GOT A NEW PHONE AND TOOK A PICTURE OF THE SHIT AND THE PHONE IN THE TURLET AND SENT THE PICTURE TO THE TURLET PHONE. NOW IT LIKE THE BEN IS FRIENDS WITH THE DOODIE.

MIKE WALLACE! YOUR NEW NICKNAME IS FASTGUY AKA MR. FAST AKA DR. FAST BECAUSE…UH…BEN WROTE THIS DOWN. WHATEVER – YOU JUST FASTGUY

/pump fakes eight times, points at Timmons

HEY LARRY TIMMY – CAN THE BEN MAKE SLY SUGGESTION THAT YOU HAD SEXY TIME NOT LONG AGO?

Lawrence Timmons: Well, I guess that would be…

Ben Roethlisberger: WOOOOOOOO! THREE CHEERS FOR LARRY TIMMY! …SHE SAY IT OKAY, RIGHT?

Lawrence Timmons: Yes.

Ben Roethlisberger: WOOOOOOOO! THREE CHEERS FOR LARRY TIMMY!

Hines Ward: Rongrastname, what you do? You am act velly stlange, rike you am tlying to be Lex Lion.

Ben Roethlisberger: HARF HARF HARF – THAT’S CRAZY, HINES. THIS HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH THAT, BUT ANYBODY SEE LARRY FOOTE? THE BEN SUPPOSED TO MAKE LARRY FOOTE FETISH VIDEOS AND PUT THEM ON THE INTERNETS

/slaps Hines on the ass, hard

Hines Ward: Ow!

[Door flies open]

Mike Tomlin: YES SIR! How are we feeling, men? We ready see this journey through? We ready to take this thing all the way? We ready to ride it out?

Hines Ward: Rongrastname think he am Lex Lion today.

Mike Tomlin: Ben, come here. What’s going on?

Ben Roethlisberger: THE BEN JUST WANT TO BE GOOD GUY AGAIN. HERO TO THE PEOPLES AND THE AMINALS AND THE FISHES. BUT THEY HATE THE BEN. THEY SAY HE BAD MAN WHO MAKE BAD TOUCH. WOMAN SAY NACHO DONE THAT TOO BUT NO ONE CARE! THEY PICK ON THE BEN! PEOPLE LOVE THE REX MAN! THE BEN JUST WANT TO BE LOVED!

Mike Tomlin: Listen, Ben, you’ve made some mistakes in your life. That’s for you to live with. The people who hate you now are always going to hate you. Most of them probably hated you before any of that mess happened. It just gave them one more thing to say about you. You can’t control how people feel. You can only control how well and how honorably your life plays out from now on. And you know what? Those people are only gonna hate you more when you succeed. Because they judged you based on things they don’t know for sure. You might as well embrace that shit. If they’re gonna steady hate, make them wallow in their hatred. Make it miserable for them.

Rex is a funny dude. I’ll give him that. Rex Ryan is also a fat-ass privileged son of an NFL head coach who had opportunity and advantage handed to him every day of his fucking self-involved life. Just because he’s a product of nepotism that happened to work out right doesn’t mean he’s not still the product of nepotism. He’s Wade Phillips with a mouth. Why’d you go to some pissant school like Miami of Ohio? Because your coach in high school benched you in favor of his dipshit son.

So fuck him. He has his flaws, too. The crowd wants to celebrate the bunch of clowns who act like frolicking retards at recess pretending their arms are jet wings?

That’s just fine by me. We just gonna stick and move, baby.

We gonna stick it to them. And when the audience puts out a hue and cry when we win, we’re gonna reward them with our most shit-eating grin. Then we won’t say a goddamn thing, because we know they love the talkers.

Bring it in, men. Who’s with me? Fuck the world on 3. 1,2,3…

Everyone: FUCK THE WORLD!

Ben Roethlisberger: 2…2….2…uh…2…

Mike Tomlin: Just say fuck the world, Ben.

Ben Roethlisberger: FUCK THE WORLD WITH PERMISSION!

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]