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Guardians of the AFC

By 08.14.14

Guardians of the AFC

 

NARRATOR: “A quiet evening settles over the city of Baltimore. Joseph Vincent Flacco is sitting on a couch watching television. The garish, flashing colors of cartoons illuminate the darkened walls of a family room. Joe is eating a stack of untoasted strawberry Poptarts. Let’s see what he’s up to…”

JOE: “Oh Swat Katz, how can you even afford to build and service an F-14 on the profits of a simple junkyard? The economics just don’t-”

FEMALE VOICE: “JOOOOE. IT’S TIME FOR BEDDDDDDDDD”

JOE: [sighs] “Mooooommmmmmm. It’s like eight-thirty! All the other kids get to stay up until at least nine! It’s summer!”

MOMMA FLACCO: “Joseph Vincent! Are you talking back to me? Don’t you know who raised you? Every day, I work to put a roof over your head and food on the table!”

JOE: “Actually, I have a 120 million dollar contract, so I mean, honestly it’s probably…“

MOMMA FLACCO: “DON’T TALK BACK TO YOUR MOTHER. Now go upstairs to bed.”

JOE: “Fiiiiiineeeee”

[Joe climbs the stairs to his room, grumbling to himself]

JOE: “This isn’t fair. I’m a Super Bowl winning quarterback in the NFL! I should be adored; I should be on TV ads and in magazines! No one respects me or my talent. I wish I was cool, like Cam Newton or Colin Kaepernick or… [sighs]”

[Joe crawls into bed. Outside, light still shines and children are playing.]

JOE: “One day I’m gonna be suave and smooth and break the rules just enough to have a dangerous allure but still be wholesome enough to save the universe. Or win an MVP. Or at least appear in a commercial for something better than shitty McDonalds’ wings. One day!”

[Joe drifts off to sleep]

———————————————–

[A ship screams through the empty vastness of space, heading directly towards a dead and decaying planet. On board, a faint scampering is heard, but nothing is seen. Eventually, at the front of the ship, a tiny DARREN SPROLES climbs onto the chair]

Sprocket


SPROCKET: “Ha ha! Here we are at last. Where else in the galaxy could you hide an operation like this? What you see before you, compatriots, is not a planet. It is, in fact, the dead body of a forgotten, gargantuan celestial being. My new contacts told me stories about the vast wealth of organic matter that can be mined within. They’re very familiar with this location, actually.”

[The ship passes through a nebula cloud, revealing the bloated face of the long-dead god.]

reid


[Onboard, Sprocket guides the ship into orbit, as the leader of the team steps onto the bridge]

SPROCKET: “Oh, hey Joe”

JOE FLACCO: “THAT IS NOT MY NAME.”

SPROCKET: “Well, your made-up name is stupid, so…”

FLACCO: “USE MY REAL NAME. I AM THE CHARISMATIC LEADER HERE.”

SPROCKET: [sighs] “Fine. Hey….[winces] Throw-Lord.”

THROW-LORD: [preens] “YEEEEEEAAAAHHHHH”

SPROCKET: “Seriously. It doesn’t even make sense. You use guns and steal things. There are at least 3 other people on this team that name actually works better for.”

[A creaking, lumbering plodding is heard behind everyone.]

SPROCKET: “For example…”

BEN


 

BEN: “I AM BEN.”

SPROCKET: “Yes Ben, and we are so very aware of that fact.”

BEN: “I AM…….BEN.”

SPROCKET: “No, Ben, I don’t think your public image will ever recover. Sexual assault is a serious matter. Also, your eyes are way too close together and you are a tree that can only say three words.”

BEN: “I………AM BEN.”

THROW-LORD: “Hey, tree-fella. I know we’ve had our differences, and perhaps in the past we were enemies, but I think we ca-“

[Ben steps backward a few steps, scrambles to the one side of the ship before doubling back to the other side of the ship. He looks off into the distance before eventually falling over.]

SPROCKET: “Yeah he does that 4 or 5 times a day.”

THROW-LORD: “Why doesn’t he just fall over and get it over with. Seems easier that way.”

[Sprocket shrugs.]

THROW-LORD: “Well, anyway, what are we doing here? Have you contacted our prospective employer?”

SPROCKET: “I’m workin’ on it. He’s a hard man to reach, you know? Just because he and I on the same side now doesn’t make it any easier. We wait for his message, and then we’ll land. Where’s the rest of the team, anyway?”

THROW-LORD: “That’s a good question. I haven’t seen G-”

[Door flies open.]

gronx


 

GRONX: “WHAT IS UUUUUUUUUUUUP YOU GUYYYYYYYS. I just came from a hell of a party. HELL OF A PARTY BRAHS.”

THROW-LORD: “Brahs? Party? We’ve been on a ship the entire time. Where did you even find-”

SPROCKET (whispering): “It’s Gronx. His race doesn’t know the concept of self-awareness or restraint. Because of this, they became a race of escalating douchebaggery until all were consumed in yolo and swagger. This is simply his way of greeting us.”

[Gronx shows everyone vast collection of selfies with exotic alien ladies in various states of undress.]

SPROCKET: “Pretty….pretty great, Gronx. Wow. Yes, I see. Those ARE breasts. You can stop pointing at the picture and nodding.”

GRONX: “Haha. Dudes. Guys. Where are we going? I need to CRUSH somethin’, you know? [smashes beer can onto forehead]”

THROW-LORD: “Well, Sprocket here has a contact in the mining operation below. Says he has a job for us that pays pretty well.”

[a broken image flashes on a nearby monitor. It quickly sharpens, revealing the team’s potential employer.]

follector


 

FOLLECTER: “Sprocket, are you there? Come in.”

SPROCKET: “It’s The Follector! [Sprocket jumps up in front of monitor] I’m here, reading you loud and clear!”

FOLLECTER: “Excellent. I’ve prepared a landing pad for you as my guests. Please come down and visit; we have much business to discuss. I need you to acquire a certain item for me before it can fall into the wrong hands.”

SPROCKET: “And you’ll pay?”

FOLLECTER: “Of course, of course. Say…didn’t you tell me there were five of you? I only see four.”

THROW-LORD: “Oh…yeah uh…”

(UNSEEN VOICE): “This is some bullshit. I’m not doing this. What is wrong with you?”

THROW-LORD (shouting behind him): “Come on, you agreed! Plus, think of the money! It’s just one job!”

*a shadowy figure steps out*

shermora


SHERMORA: “Why the fuck do I have to be in this dream?”

THROW-LORD: “Dream?”

SHERMORA: “Man, your imagination is fucked up, you know that? Look at me! I’m all green and shit.”

THROW-LORD: “You’ve always been green, since you were born. I’m not sure why you suddenly have a problem with it.”

SHERMORA: “Goddammit Flacco. I want no part in your crazy fever dream.  I have shit I need to deal with. It’s almost the start of the season and-”

[Shermora receives a message on another monitor.]

crabula


CRABULA: “Hello, sister.”

SHERMORA: “Oh FUCK THIS. I will DESTROY you, Crabtree.”

NARRATOR: And so began the journey of these GUARDIANS OF THE AFC!

SHERMORA: “What? AFC? Two of us aren’t even on AFC teams! That title makes no goddamn sense. It just sort-of-rhymes with a popular movie that’s currently out. It’s just going to confuse people who read this!”

NARRATOR: JOIN US NEXT TIME FOR MORE-

SHERMORA: “This is so stupid.”

Guardians of the AFC


 


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