What’s up, Miami? You ready? You better be ready. Bite down on that pillow and grab a rag, because Sexy Rexy is coming.
Goddamn I missed you Florida. The beaches. The blue skies. The maneuvering room in the handicap stalls at Publix. What, you think ol’ Rex is above going deep in a grocery store? Think again, pussy. Summer sausage tastes better with cheerleader on it.
But that’s not the only reason I’m here. Consider this fair warning Ryan Tannehill: I’m coming. And when I’m finished, I’m taking your job. Sure, you may have that cute little wife that makes all your teammates tight in the jock. But you’re breaking the original rule of gunslinging: a quarterback shouldn’t be tied down. He does the tying down.
If you think this tryout won’t end with me winning your job, you’ve got another thing coming. That thing is my right arm, and it’s going to be ejaculating deep into coverage ALL FUCKING DAY. End zone to end zone. Sideline to sideline. Ass to mouth. Sexy Rexy covers the entire field.
So, yeah: I’m declaring myself the starter without even having a roster spot yet. Bold? Like the Gold Bond I dip my balls into every morning. Brash? Your girlfriends don’t seem to think so. Cocky? THAT ISN’T A FUNGO BAT IN MY POCKET.
(Gets a phone call)
Brady Quinn? Really? I’ve seen three-fingered strippers with a better grip. He may have a face for TV, but he’s got a dick for Cialis advertisements. It takes hair on your balls to overthrow Mike Wallace, and you went with a guy who smears Nivea on his sac? Pussies.
Fuck it. Somewhere out there, there’s a team that needs Rex. A team willing to throw caution, and the fucking pigskin, into the wind. A team that understands you can’t cage an wild animal, you just hope he doesn’t get anything pregnant. You run your cute little screens, Miami. I’m audibling a go-route to pound town.
So peace out, Florida. This hired gun is hitting the road. But maybe keep it hush-hush that I was ever here, OK? I’ve got warrants.