LaDainian Tomlinson: What it do
My name’s LT
I got a new dance for y’all. It’s real easy to do.
All ya gotta do is glide widdit.
Here we go. C’mon.
AutoTune: LT Styyyyyyyle Electric Glide LT Styyyyyyle Electric Glide
Tomlinson: I read the defense I read the defense I read the defense I read the defense I read the defense
Antonio Gates: Yo, what the fuck is this goofy shit?
Jacques Cesaire: I dunno. It’s kinda catchy though. I can fuck with this.
Tomlinson: Stiff arm the guys stiff arm the guys stiff arm the guys
Antonio Gates: Haha! Do your thing boi!
[Fumbling with keys heard for 10 seconds. Keys heard hitting ground outside, followed by muttered swearing. First key tried is the wrong one. Door opens with second key]
Norv Turner: … [Exhales deeply] Hhhhhhey.
Antonio Gates: Hey coach.
Norv Turner: What are we doing? Are we practicing?
Jacques Cesaire: LT is showing us his new music video.
Norv Turner: Oh… I went to a Fleetwood Mac show once back in the ’70s. Is it like Fleetwood Mac?
Gates: Not really.
Norv Turner: That’s good. I didn’t care for them.
[Calls for Darren Sproles run up the gut on 4th and 2]
Tomlinson: That’s a bad call. Don’t like that call. Not a very good call.
Norv Turner: Do me a favor, will you: Remind me sometime before Sunday that we gotta talk about this game. It’s a pretty big one, you know.
Cesaire: Got it, coach.
Norv: Yyyyyyyeah, that’s good. I think we’re gonna do well.
[Stands around for a minute and a half without talking]
You know what? The heck with it. Let’s just have our game talk now. Stitch in time saves nine and all that.
Cesaire: Stitch what?
[Door flies open]
Philip Rivers: STITCH YOUR FUCKING PUSSY SHUT IF YOU’RE A WOMAN OF LOOSE MORALS
Ya betta ask somebodddddddaaaaaaayyyyyyy
Awwwwww. Lookie here, Ol’ Shriveldick wants to rally the troops. I just came from the Jets facilities AND THEY’RE TALKING A WHOLE MESS OF SHIT! THEY WANNA CARVE US UP AND SERVE US FOR MEXICAN CHRISTMAS, WHICH JUST HAPPENS TO FALL IN JANUARY, BECAUSE MEXICANS ARE TOO LAZY TO CELEBRATE IT IN DECEMBER!
Them boys is looking for a fight. And I intend to oblige them. Now, I know you all are a willy-nilly band of complacent dicktwirlers, so you probably already forgot how you fucked up The Laserface Revenge/Coach-Killing Tour © for me last year. I did not forget. I have a mind like a steel fucking trap. I once again beat the Most Valuable Fetus in the playoffs, only for you concussion closet faggots to blow it against whoever we played after that.
Tomlinson: Throw the ball. Throw that thing!
[Rivers picks up Tomlinson’s AutoTune machine and chucks it in the air, where it floats until it strikes Jay-Z’s jet, killing him]
Rivers: QUIT FUCKING SAMBO DANCING AND LISTEN, LATOEINJURY!
That’s why I’m initiating THE CORONATION OF KING LASERFACE TOUR ANNO DOMINI FUCKTHOUSAND AND TEN ©. Nothing will stand in my way. Not some filthy spic Pesoback. Not my bitch Manning. And not some randomly chosen loser from the NFC. It’s mine! MINE! MINE!
Then, when divorced dipmunk Jim Nantz hands me the Lombardi Trophy, I’ll shove his ass off the stupid podium then look America right in its fat face, and proclaim myself champion of all creation. Then I’ll remind them that the Haiti earthquake was God’s wrath for people fucking outside of marriage.
LET IT BE DONE!
Norv Turner:… Is everyone okay with that?
Mike Tolbert: Yep.
Eric Weddle: Sure.
Shawne Merriman: YOU FORGOT PARADE OF RAPE AFTER SUPER BOWL! ALL ELSE COOL!
Antonio Gates: ‘Long as we win a title, I don’t give a fuck.
Norv Turner: ‘kay, great. Thanks, Phil.