Let’s make one thing clear up front, I’m not saying I get stoned to the bejeezus belt, flunked a drug test and then bamboozled the commissioner into not suspending me. But IF I wanted to, it would have been pretty easy to do. Just follow these three easy steps.
Clean hair sample for testing? Wait until the Cutler kid gets out of the shower and fish some pubes out of the drain. This is much less confrontational than my previous method of hiding his pants and then ripping out a handful in the locker room.
You want to know how to pass a polygraph? Easy, just inseminate nine different women. Believe me, when you have knocked up as many honeys as I have you become a master in the art of deception real fast. I’m a lying fucking ninja. “The child support check is in the mail.” “I’ll make it to your birthday party.” “Baby, I have no why that dude is trying to serve me with papers.” “Sure I remember your name, uh, kid.” “I’m gonna have a vasectomy in the off-season.” And so forth.
Last step, come up with some bullshit story about being exposed to some second-hand weedsmoke. But careful not to make Goodell think you hang with the wrong crowd. “I swear commissioner, I was walking to bible study when some guy who looked a lot like Selvin Young jumped out of the alley and exhaled his blunt right in my face.”
“Contact high?” BWAHHAHAHAHA! Yeah, that cherry red Graffix bong with the dragon inlay and three foot extension contacted the shit out of my grill, yo. I like dragons. I wish I could breath fire. I’d be all, what’s that Merriman, you trying to stop me? How ’bout I roast your ass like I was Godz– um…uh, I mean, just say no to drugs, kids.