MY BOY ROMO IS A GODDAMN STAR! THAT MINDBLOWING PICK TO LEBER WAS JUST A MESSAGE TO ME TO SLICE YOU INTO BITE-SIZE CHUNKS AND SHIP THEM TO THE STARVING HAITIANS!

YOU KNOW FOX PUT FAVRE UP TO THIS! THIS WAS RIGHTFULLY ROMO’S CHANCE TO WHORE FOR THE NETWORK! NOW WE’RE STUCK WITH DIET PEPSI MAX!

Wade: Well, well! That was a heckuva turnaround, wasn’t it? I’ll be. We did it! We came together and won this dang division. Lotta people said we couldn’t do it! Lotta people said we weren’t gonna win anything in December. But we showed them, didn’t we Roscoe?

Roscoe: RUFF!

Wade: You’re darn right, boy.

Roscoe: RUFF!

Wade: Yeah, I know. NOW COMES THE HARD PART! Taking on those pesky Eagles again. Won’t be a walk in the park like last time! But you know what, Roscoe? I feel pretty daggone good. I think I’ve proven myself. I think I’m ready to show everyone that Wade Phillips is a coach to be reckoned with in this here league.

(door flies open)

(more…)

Wade: Oh dear. Another December stumble. Ol’ Jerry is gonna be fit to be tied. I know it for sure. I should clear out of here as quickly as possible before he pops in to give me heaping helping of griefy gravy. Then he’ll have that smarmypants Princeton boy poking fun at me like he’s God’s gift to this world. Well, y’know what? Some of this is his fault too. Then for some reason that cornerback that we cut last year will appear and tell us how he’s gonna drink.

I reckon I’m not much in the mood to deal with that nonsense right now. We’ve had a good season, dagnabbit! One measly loss don’t mean nothing to us. This December jinx business is all a big ballyhoo to sell papers. What does one month of the year mean to us? If these people really knew football they’d know it’s all a big coincidence.

Anyway, gotta move, gotta move! Quickquickquick!

But first: I’m gonna need a little snack for the road to tide me over to suppertime. The wife’s making the casserole. Not the favorite. Let’s see what we got.

[Fumbles through desk drawers]

Now & Laters? Those won’t do. They hurt my teeth. That’s really some last ditch snacking right there. Ooooooh! What’s this? No, it can’t be. IT IS! Sno Ball snack cakes! How did you hide from me so long? Ol’ Wade is gonna snack good today.

Uh oh, footsteps!

[Door flies open]

(more…)

Wade: Gosh dangit. We had to go and ruin a perfectly good four-game winnin’ streak by strollin’ into Green Bay and layin’ a darn egg! Ugh.

Well, guess I better get to work. We got those pesky Redskins comin’ in this week, and I know darn well they’ll be loaded for bear. I better study some tape. Except… aw hell, no one around. No need to get cracking just YET. Lemme just play one game of solitaire. Helps sharpen the ol’ noggin.

(opens up solitaire game)

Oh, that’s a lousy draw.

(resets the game 50 times)

Ah, much better. Now, to just drag these three aces up to the top…

(door flies open)

(more…)

And that’s too bad, because it would have been tremendous to watch Jerry see the first two games in his Colossatorium blow up in his leathery face. Not that Romo didn’t give the Panthers a host of chances at interceptions with a raft of ill-advised throws. So we were limited to one agonized Wade Phillips hunch down of defeat.

Remember, it is only still late September. There is plenty of tantalizing Cowboys failure to come. There’s not going to be a Delhomme to deposit the ball in Terrance Newman’s chest at critical moments every week.

As for Carolina, Tar Heels season isn’t that far in the offing.

[Thanks again to reader Rafael for the .giffage]

(more…)

Wade: Gall darnit! Openin’ night and we go out and play a game like that. I am perplexed. How do you get 250 damn yards rushing and STILL lose? It’s gonna be a long week.

(opens package of cupcakes)

Ooh, Hostess cupcakes. My wife told me that there’s a fancy word for the icing on top of these. GANACHE. How you like that? Here I am, think I’m eatin’ a cupcake with frosting, when really it’s a French delicacy! Oh, the simple pleasures.

(eats cupcake)

Mmmmm. Well, life ain’t all bad, I guess. It was only the second game. If we just play SMARTER, I think we can live up to our potential. The pieces are there! We just gotta bear down. And that starts right after I finish this delicious, chocolatey, ganachey…

(door flies open)

(more…)

Wade: My, oh my. Look at this new stadium! Hoo wee! I gotta hand it to the Big Feller. Gotta hand it to him. This new place is a peach!

(settles into new desk chair)

Ooh, listen to the hiss of that leather! I feel like I’m sittin’ inside a brand new Cadillac. If only my Daddy could see me now! These are the kind of days where I feel honored and privileged to be the head coach of the Dallas Cowboys. Yessir, thick and thin, I dare say that a work space like this is downright INSPIRING. I feel inspired! Haven’t felt that way in ages.

Let’s put in some tape and whip up some new schemes. I wanna give these people a show! Let me just get the ol’ Smartfood bag here.

(opens bag of popcorn)

Mmmmm… popcorn. Hey, what the…

(door flies open)

(more…)

Wade: Mmmm… ice cream. Ice cream ice cream ice cream. You sure do help break up a day. You know, ever since I was able to turn the tables on the low-down snake Jerry Jones, life has been pretty darn sweet for ol’ Wade. Yes, sirree. Ain’t no finer to have than havin’ nothin’ to lose.

You know what I might do this afternoon? I do believe I’ll go golfing. Ha! How about that! Ol’ Wade sneakin’ out for a quick nine holes on a spring day. I reckon nothing would be better on a glorious spring day. Lemme just close up shop here. Seems pretty quiet. And that ol’ coot ain’t nowhere to be found! Yep, I think there’s no better time to kick back and rela…

(door flies open)

(more…)

(door flies open)

Jerry: FATASSSSSS! Where is that fatass?! JENNIFER!

Jennifer: Yes, Mr. Jones?

Jerry: Where is Tubby? Have you seen Tubby?

Jennifer: Tubby, sir?

Jerry: Yeah. Tubby. Fatass. Ol’ Puddin’ Tits. Fats Incredible. Chubby Pecker. Lardlubber. FUPA Fighter. Gigantoslob. Chunker. The USS Lusitania. THE FUCKING FAT FUCK THAT COST MY BOY ROMO A PLAYOFF SPOT! WHERE IS THAT FATASS?!

Jennifer: Oh, you mean Coach Phillips?

Jerry: YES! That guy! Where the fuck is he?!

Jennifer: I think he’s in the whirlpool, sir.

Jerry: The whirlpool?

Jennifer: Yes, sir. Said he was going to the whirlpool to relax.

Jerry: Oh, did he now? WHO SAID THAT FUCKING BLUE WHALE COULD BATHE ON MY DIME?! I WILL FUCKING GUT HIM LIKE A MULE! FATTTTTTY!!!!!

(meanwhile, at the whirlpool)

Wade: (in whirlpool, listening to iPod, eating sub sandwich, singing)
Whoo-ee! Ride me high
Tomorrow’s the day
My bride’s gonna come
Oh, oh, are we gonna fly
Down in the easy chair!

(door flies open)

Jerry: WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING IN MY WHIRLPOOL, HUMPBACK WADE?

Wade: (takes off headphones) I’m sorry. I can’t hear you over the music there, Sir.

Jerry: You get outta that tub NOW, MR. BUBBLE! I don’t care if we need a towel the size of Indiana to cover your fat ass! WHO THE FUCK SAID YOU COULD RELAX?! AND GIT THAT GODDAMN SANDWICH OUTTA THERE!

Wade: Welp, season’s over. Thought I’d just chill out for a second.

Jerry: Oh, did you now! YOU FUCKING FATASS! My gorgeous team is going down the shitter AND IT’S ALL YOUR BIG FAT FAULT!

Wade: So fire me, then.

Jerry: What?

Wade: Fire me. Don’t matter to me. See, I learned something this year, Mr. Jones. And that, as head coaches go, I’m not very good. I’m just not. I make a damn fine defensive coordinator. But I’m just not head coaching material. And you know what? That’s all right. I’m fine with that. Not everyone is comfortable at the top. I tried my best, and darn it if it wasn’t good enough. But I’m not gonna beat myself up over it. It’s just another thing to learn in life. And there you have it. So go ahead. Fire me. There are gonna be eight new coaches out there looking for defensive help, maybe more, and I’ll be glad to hop on board with them. Now, if you’ll excuse me… (puts on headphones)

Whoo-ee! Ride me high
Tomorrow’s the day
My bride’s gonna come
Whoo-ee! Are we gonna fly
Down in the easy chair!

Jerry: YOU FAT DISGUSTING PIG! YOU’RE NOT GONNA RIDE HIGH, OR FLY, OR GO DOWN ON ANY FUCKING EASY CHAIR! I’m not gonna fire your fat ass, Frankenberry!

Wade: No?

Jerry: Oh, no. You got us into this mess, NOW YOU’RE GONNA GIT US OUT! I will keep you here FOREVER, Fatty! I’ll make sure they bake a fresh pan of cream cheese brownies in the kitchen every day. YOU’LL NEVER FIT OUT OUR DOOR, FATSTORM!

Wade: That’s another thing, Mr. Jones. You can all me all the names you like. But I don’t really care. I enjoy food. I enjoy life. And I CAN walk out that door. You watch me.

(gets out of pool)

Jerry: OH, JESUS CHRIST! IT’S LIKE THERE’S AN GIANT AVALANCHE OF COOL WHIP COMING AT ME WITH A LITTLE KIDDIE DICK ATTACHED TO IT!

(door flies open)

Pacman: Yo yo. Pacman hurr fo da pool pardee. Wat diz phat gurrl doin up in dis bizz? Pacman ain’t down wid it. Pacman ain’t go for dem eggplantz. DAT 2 MUCH PUSSY. Pacman gots da reel bubblez fo dat bath…

OH SHIT! Pacman git wid dat! Pacman gon shine. He gon mak hurr drank from dat luvhose. OH SHE GON DRANK. Pacman say ain’t no drank drank till dat bitch git wet. He gon mak dat azz cry. He gon BLOW DAT AZZ UP. 4rilly. HE GON DAYG DAT TUNNL. He gon turn dat fuk on.

And Pacman gon drank. Oh, he gon drank. U THANK HE AIN’T GON DRANK? HE GON DRANK. Pacman say seezon’s ovah, so he can go bust dat puzzy till da red meat showz. CHUH CHUH.

Jerry: You fucking fumbling piece of shit! I HIRED YOU TO SCORE DEION-STYLE TD’S, NOT FUMBLE THE BALL LIKE SOME KANSAS CITY FAGGOT!

Pacman: Pacman jus tryn ta shine.

Jerry: YOU DON’T SHINE FOR SHIT, ASSHOLE! YOU’RE ABOUT AS SHINY AS A DEAD WOMAN’S TIT! (turns to Wade) You better git this asshole BACK IN LINE, you big naked tub of shit!

(door flies open)

Garrett: Oh, Good Heavens! I’ve seen the Hideous Beast without his protective layering! Avert your eyes, all! Or he shall consume us all with his ghastly pseudopods!

Jerry: You fucking Ivy League cocksucker!

Garrett: What? Who? Me? Surely you jest! This is a good jesting, yes?

Jerry: NO! Didn’t I tell you my boy ROMO was a star?

Garrett: I believe you told Melville’s White Whale over there on more than one occ…

Jerry: HE’S A GODDAMN STAR! And you’re ruining him! We went up to Philly and got the tar beaten out of us by a bunch of SANDWICH-EATING YANKEE FAGGOTASSES!

Garrett: Oh, Mr. Jones. The problem is far more complex than you grasp, I fear! For we had the perfect game architecture in place for victory! A dazzling rainbow of swing passes to Tashard Choice, EACH MORE STUNNING THAN THE LAST! And then, almost clandestinely, A JUPITER-LIKE STRIKE TO WITTEN! And then, we were all going to sit down for a good, civilized EATING! It was a plan that would make even Churchill himself blush with envy! Alas, the execution…

Wade: Oh, quit blaming everyone but yourself, you ginger-faced asshole.

Garrett: Excuse me, good Sir? It’s difficult to hear you with YOUR NAKED, DRIBBLING MASS CONFRONTING US ALL!

Wade: He doesn’t even care, Mr. Jones. He’s going to Detroit.

Garrett: What? Why… Harumph! How dare you question my loyalty, sir! You, good sir, are a CRUMB BUM! There, I said it! YOU ARE NOTHING MORE THAN A CRUMB BUM!

Jerry: You’re not going to Detroit, you freckle-faced queerbait! Not after what I paid to keep your sorry ass here!

(door is weakly opened with least amount of possible effort)

Roy Williams: What? Huh? What’s going on? Why’s Coach all nude?

Jerry: YOU LAZY SACK OF SHIT! YOU’D SHORT ARM A BABY IF A GYPSY THREW IT TO YOU!

Roy Williams: Whatever, man. I got a text message.

(leaves)

Jerry: GAHHHHH! I’M SURROUNDED BY NOTHING BUT FUCKUPS! You’re all fucking ruining my gorgeous team! This is the fucking pride of TIXAS, and all of you have DISGRACED THE GODDAMN STAR! I will fucking kill you all! Starting with YOU, Fatty! (comes at Wade)

Wade: I don’t think so, Mr. Jones. MARION!

(door gets stiff-armed off its hinges)

MBIII: JERRY JONES! WHERE YOU AT, MOTHERFUCKER!

Jerry: I’m right here, Barber! I’m not scared of you one bit!

MBIII: No? (puts Jerry in a chicken wing hold) HOW ABOUT NOW, MOTHERFUCKER?!

Jerry: OW! FUCK!

MBIII: Jerry Jones, you conscious, MOTHERFUCKER?! Cause Marion Barber got something to say to YOUR ASS! CAN YOU HEAR ME, BITCH?

Jerry: I could hear you better if you let go there, buddy!

MBIII: I AIN’T LETTIN’ GO OF SHIT! You listen to me and you listen good, you motherfucking MOTHERFUCKER! I seen this team all year long, asshole. And the person who fucked this all up is YOUR SORRY RAZORBLACK ASS. Fuckin’ Jerry Jones. Has to bring in every goddamn big named motherfucker he can find off the street. JERRY’S GOTS TO HAVE HIS TOYS! MARION BARBER WANTS TEAMMATES THAT WANT TO PLAY FOOTBALL, BITCH!

Jerry: Fool! I gave you all Tank Williams!

MBIII: TANK WILLIAMS DON’T PLAY FOR SHIT! MOTHERFUCKER BRINGS GI JOE DOLLS INTO THE HUDDLE!

Wade: I was not aware of that.

MBIII: Shut up, naked Fat Ass!

Wade: You got it.

MBIII: You listen to me, Jerry Jones. Marion Barber says YOU THE MOTHERFUCKER who needs to clean this mess up. YOU are the problem. I am TIRED, Jerry Jones. I am tired of hearing every goddamn excuse from every goddamn player on this team. YOU WILL FUCKING FIND ME SOME BETTER TEAMMATES, OR MARION BARBER WILL FUCKING SHOVE A LEAFBLOWER UP YOUR REDNECK ASS AND TURN IT ON. YOU READ ME, ASSHOLE?

Jerry: Yes, Sir!

MBIII: And get Roy Williams out of here. HE DOES NOTHING, MOTHERFUCKER!

(leaves)

Jerry: Well, um… You heard the man! Get to work, ALL OF YOU!

Wade: All due respect, Mr. Jones, I think I’m gonna go home.

Jerry: Oh, really?

Wade: Yes. Really. I got an easy chair to fly into. And it sounds like you got a lot on your plate. Or would you like me to call Marion again?

Jerry: Why, you… I… you should… FAT! YOU’RE FAT! YOU’RE FUCKING FAT!

Wade: AND I’M FUCKING CRAZY TOO! YEEEEEHAW!

Jerry: GOD DAMMIT, THAT ISN’T HOW YOU SAY IT!

Wade: I’ll see you after the holiday, Mr. Jones. I won’t be in until Monday. Garrett can handle anything you need until then.

Garrett: What? But Bunny, the kids and I were going to Nantucket!

Jerry: Save it, shithead. YOU AIN’T GOIN’ NOWHERE.

Wade: (walks out) Ain’t that the truth.

Wade: Oh, SHIT. Shit shit shit shit shit. I am FUCKED. I mean, I’ve been fucked before. I’ve been beaten, branded, tickled, raped, spanked, and fired 339 times now. But I am definitely fucked this time round. WHAT DO I DO?!

You know what, ol’ Wade? You’re screwed anyhow. I’m tired. I’m tired of going apeshit trying to put out fires I got no chance of extinguishin’. You know what? FUCK IT. I’mma have some Oreos.

(opens drawer)

Mmm. I tell you, ain’t nothin’ finer than a good stack of Oreos. You come through that door, Jerry Jones. You’re not gonna stop me from enjoyin’ a well-earned treat.

(door flies open)

Jerry: WHERE IS THAT FAT FUCK?! PHILLIPS?! DON’T YOU TRY AND HIDE FROM ME, CHOKOZUNA! I can smell the hoagie dressing bursting out of your pores! You think you can choke away a ten point lead in seven minutes and then avoid THE ARKINSAW ASSPOUNDER?! Git your fat, drooping ass out here now, Brando! Here fatty fatty fatty! Here fatty fatty fatty!

Wait… what the… Why, you ain’t hidin’! YOU GOT YOUR FEET ON YOUR DESK AND YOUR STUFFING YOUR FACE WITH COOKIES ON MY TIME, YOU FUCKING HOT AIR BALLOON!

Wade: Yep.

Jerry: You sure as SHIT better have a good explanation for this, Beastula! Did you see my boy ROMO out there against those Pittsburgh faggots? HE’S A STAR! AND YOUR FAT ASS MADE HIM LOOK THE FOOL!

Wade: Well, that was clearly Garrett’s fault.

Jerry: What?

Wade: Hey, I did MY job. The D held those darn Steelers down. Why don’t you ask ol’ PRINCETON BOY why he dang offense didn’t move an inch!

Jerry: Well, I… you fat… I’m so GODDAMN… YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE COWERING IN FEAR RIGHT NOW, SCRAPPLE MARTIN!

Wade: Well, I ain’t. I’m tired, Jerry Jones. I’m tired of sittin’ here having everyone shit on ol’ Wade. High time Wade did some backstabbin’ of his own!

Jerry: Oh, is that so? WELL IT DON’T WORK THAT WAY, TUBBY! NOW YOU OPEN UP THOSE BIG FAT SHIT-PLUGGED EARS OF YOURS AND YOU LISTEN TO ME…

(door gets smashed into 3,000 very small pieces)

MBIII: JERRY JONES! JERRY GODDAMN JONES!

Jerry: Oh, FUCK! (hides behind Wade) Don’t move, fatass. You just sit there and eclipse me the way you do the sun, and other heavenly bodies.

MBIII: Jerry Jones, you can’t hide from me, MOTHERFUCKER! Y’all better move out of the way, Coach P. ‘Cause I’mma make caramel outta that wrappin’ paper-faced motherfucker! MOTHERFUCKER, GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE AND FACE THE MUSIC!

Jerry: (comes out) Marion! Marion, my boy! Can I git you anything? Complimentary beverage? Hot stewardess that’ll fuck you blind?

MBIII: Gimme your toe, MOTHERFUCKER!

(takes Jerry’s toe, dislocates it)

Jerry: GAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

MBIII: Oh, I’m sorry. DID YOU FEEL A PINCH THERE, MOTHERFUCKER?! FUCKING HURTS, DUDN’T IT?!

Jerry: (wincing) Ain’t nuthin’ the ol’ Double-J can’t handle!

MBIII: (twists toe) Oh really, MOTHERFUCKER?!

Jerry: GAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

MBIII: Try and sit in on your board meeting with THAT, ASSHOLE! You still think I’m soft, motherfucker?

Jerry: No.

MBIII: (twists toe) I CAN’T HEAR YOU, CRACKA!

Jerry: NO!

MBIII: See now, that surprises me, seein’ as how you thought Marion Barber had pussied out of that game Sunday. YOU STILL THINK I PUSSIED OUT, YOU FUCKING HICK SACK OF SHIT?

Jerry: NO!

MBIII: That’s more like it. Now you fucking listen to me, Jerry Jones. If you EVER call my ass soft again, it’ll be the last thing you say before I drive a GODDAMN motorcycle up your CHICKEN FRIED ASSHOLE. YOU HEAR ME, MOTHERFUCKER?

Jerry: Yes.

MBIII: Call my ass SIR, MOTHERFUCKER!

Jerry: Yes, sir!

MBIII: Marion Barber doesn’t back down from any fucking challenge, lest of all one from some goddamn tumbleweed-eatin’ MOTHERFUCKER LIKE YOU! I will fucking run through the goddamn River Styx to win a game! You gotta tear my fucking dick off to keep me off that field. SO IF MARION BARBER SAYS HE CAN’T TRAVEL WITH THE TEAM, YOU BETTER BELIEVE HE’S IN SOME NEW FUCKING DIMENSION OF PAIN! YOU FUCKING HEAR ME!

Wade: Can I just say, Marion, that you are AMAZING?

MBIII: Shut up, fatass.

Wade: Yes, sir.

(door flies open)

Pacman: Yo yo. Pacman be putn hiz deekaleek in dem azzcakez when mista trayna man say he ain’t gon shine. Pacman ain’t down wid it. Pacman wanna shine. Pacman wanna go n tak hiz peese uh duh pie. Pacman gon shine. Oh, he gon shine. He gon make dat pussy drool. He gon turn dat pussyfountn da fuk on. Pacman down wid it.

And Pacman gon drank. Oh, he gon drank. BULLEE 2 DA DAT. Pacman say ain’t no drank drank till dem chikns git xtra crspy. Pacman like dat. Pacman got his drumstik. He gon make a bitchbizkit. Shoot dat gravy on da bitch. She gon lik it. Pacman down wid it.

MBIII: And another thing. I cannot understand GODDAMN WORD this asshole is saying! How the FUCK are we supposed to win SHIT when players can’t speak English, MOTHERFUCKER! I’m out there stiffarming motherfuckers, and this asshole’s talkin’ about PUSSYJOOSE! WHAT THE FUCK?

(door flies open)

Garrett: Ah, Marion! Marion, my good man! How are you? Did you have a good EATING today?!

MBIII: You fucking red-haired Ritz cracka looking motherfucker! RUN A GODDAMN PLAY ACTION PASS TO SOMEONE OTHER THAN WITTEN FOR ONCE, MOTHERFUCKER!

Garrett: But Jason has such a fine pedigree! Why wouldn’t I call 56 passes for him?

MBIII: Motherfucker, I GOTTA HEAR ABOUT THAT SHIT! Fix the goddamn offense, or else that faggot ass TO throws his soiled maxipads in the middle of the GODDAMN LOCKER ROOM! FIX IT OR MBIII WILL DROWN A BITCH!

Wade: You heard him, Jason. Fix it.

Garrett: What? Well, I never! Do you hear the way they address me, Mr. Jones? THEY’RE SO GUTTURAL!

Jerry: Just do what they tell you to do, SHITHEAD! My fucking toe is dislocated! HOW AM I GONNA STICK IT IN A HOOKER’S COOTER NOW?

MBIII: That’s your problem, motherfucker.

Garrett: (dragging Jerry out) You haven’t heard the last from us! You shan’t get away with this!

MBIII: Yeah well, whatever. YOU DRAG THAT CRACKA ASS MOTHERFUCKER OUT OF HERE AND DON’T COME BACK! THERE’S A NEW SHERIFF IN TOWN TODAY, AND HE’S THE BADDEST BLACKEST MOTHERFUCKER YOU’LL WISH YOU NEVER FUCKING MET! YEEHAW! I AM GODDAMN PISSED!!!!!!

This week, we’re holding the second annual KsK Kares Kharity Drive for Fisher House, which helps build temp housing for disabled veterans and their families. You can donate directly to FH here.