***The Ligers sit in their locker room, 15 minutes until
game time. ***
Hot Tub Party Todd:
Alright kids, this is it! Subway classic, I'm getting those points, the Jammers are going down! Ruben’s
buying us sandwiches and then he’s going to give us tickets to a Lightning
game! Woooo, Peter I’m so amped, I need a hug.
Peter: I’m cool man.
HTPT: Ok, you’re right, we’ll hug after we win.
Chandler: Todd, you’re talking out of your ass. We aren’t
going to win this game. Nobody’s getting a sandwich, not even Bull. And the
Lighting’s season is over. That ticket
offer is about as reliable as Griff’s ankles. I’ve run 458,408 statistical
models of this game, and we didn’t win fucking one of them.
HTPT: What’s that Chandler, I didn’t hear you, I was
practicing my air kicks for our victory karaoke concert tonight.
Chandler: We can’t win, Todd. Numbers don’t lie.
***Shouting match is about to erupt in the locker room when…***
(the door flies open)
Jets coach Rex Ryan: HOW THE FUCK YA DOIN’ BOYS?!
***The Ligers stare in shock at the massive coach, who is
eating chicken wings in the doorway***
Rex Ryan: Pretty damn quiet in here you shit cakes. I said, HOW THE FUCK YA DOIN’?!
HTPT: Not too good coach, half of the team doesn’t think we
can win tonight.
Rex Ryan: No shit? Men, oh men, MEN. This is the fucking show,
you gotta grab hold of your nuts and be men! You gotta go out there and kick
the shit out of those clowns, and then go to the bar and get a god-damn snack!
HTPT: Our team is half girls, coach. They don’t have nuts.
Ryan: Don’t you think I know that…uh, what’s your name?
HTPT: Todd, coach. But I…uh people call me Hot Tub Party
Todd.
Ryan: Well, first off, nobody’s calling you that anymore. Your
new nickname is Hand Job. I’ve seen that costume. You're not foolin' me with this hot tub nonsense. And hey, are those calf implants? Anyway, we're all MEN in my locker room, Hand Job.
HandJob: Whatever you say, coach.
Ryan: Alright then, now, down to fucking business. Tonight,
you play the Toe Jammers. Now, as much as I would love put some jam on their
toes and have myself a fuckin’ party, it’s your job to beat their asses
tonight. Those yellow bastards might have been a dynasty a few years ago, but
now they’re old, their joints hurt, and their prostates are swollen as a
kickball. If you play balls out defense, you stop the fucking pop ups,
especially that Souder kid, and your bald captain doesn’t throw the ball around
like Mark fuckin’ Sanchez, you can win, MEN, you can DESTROY them!
Chandler: But coach, I’ve done the math, there’s no way we
can win.
Ryan: Math huh? You know what I think of your math? (Farts,
loudly, for 15 seconds) Smell that. Winning isn’t about math, it’s about heart, it’s about
team, it’s about BALLS! Do you have those, Good Will Hunting?
Chandler: I’ve got huge balls, coach. And we’re going to
beat the Jammers with them!
***Chandler begins a slow clap, the rest of the team joins
in***
Ryan: THAT'S GREAT HUSTLE, ALL BALLS! (Smacks Chandler on the ass, hard) Now, Everybody BRING IT THE FUCK IN!
***Everyone brings it the fuck in***
Ryan: ARE YOU READY TO WIN?! ARE YOU READY TO KILL?! ARE YOU READY TO EARN YOUR SNACK?!
Ligers: YEAH!
Ryan: ALRIGHT, LIGERS WRECK SHIT ON THREE! 1…2…3
Everyone: LIGERS WRECK SHIT!
***The teams storms on to the field, ready for victory***
Ryan: Man, I need to drop a massive MLoop.
7 comments:
I think week 3 or 4 email conversation was the best.
Holy.... I do have better shots of sweet air kicks though.
LOL great work Souder...that was solid gold right there
Thank you so much for the laugh this morning Chris.. Well done!!!!
Awesome. Best post in a while.
Good shit Souder!!
Very funny. I see this happening! hahah. Good job Souder!
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