[A procession of kazoo players enter from a hallway, followed by a regal figure]
Fail Lion: My brothers! Today we mourn a great loss from our Royal Court of Fail. News comes from the field that Sir Buzzsaw has entered into the Nation of the Super Bowl dwellers.
Saint Jester: Impossible!
The Brown Knight: It cannot be so! [Throws empty beer bottle]
Fail Lion: Do not let your emotions sway your thoughts. Today is truly a sad one, but we will muddle on, as we always do.
Saint Jester: But what of his post?
Fail Lion: That is the very matter upon which we must ruminate this day. Sir Buzzsaw served this court admirably for generations as a specialist in matters of irrelevancy and fan apathy.
Jaguar serf: Well I don’t care much for my team. In fact, I only wear this cranial adornment because I found it in the parking lot.
The Brown Knight: Yes! The Jaguar! His people care little of the fortunes of their flag.
Fail Lion: But can the Jaguar be trusted? Remember, now, it was his squadron that came close twice in its formative years to fleeing our ranks.
Texan knave: TEXANS! NUMBER ONE!
Saint Jester: Yes, but who among us has not had a brush with near-success? It was just two years ago that I nearly trod onto those Super Bowl grounds.
Texan knave: WE BEAT THE COWBOYS ONCE! TEXANS! NUMBER ONE!
Fail Lion: Yours is a fair point, jester. Let it be so. Approach, serf.
Are you ready to ignore the shifting fortunes of your team? Only to adopt them should be make the promised land?
Jaguar serf: Sure. I guess. Me and Matt Jones are gonna score good drugs no matter what.
Fail Lion: Then I shall decree it. I dub thee, Sir Jaguar. Noble paladin of fan apathy.
Sir Jaguar: [Takes toke] Super.