Wade: Mmmm… ice cream. Ice cream ice cream ice cream. You sure do help break up a day. You know, ever since I was able to turn the tables on the low-down snake Jerry Jones, life has been pretty darn sweet for ol’ Wade. Yes, sirree. Ain’t no finer to have than havin’ nothin’ to lose.
You know what I might do this afternoon? I do believe I’ll go golfing. Ha! How about that! Ol’ Wade sneakin’ out for a quick nine holes on a spring day. I reckon nothing would be better on a glorious spring day. Lemme just close up shop here. Seems pretty quiet. And that ol’ coot ain’t nowhere to be found! Yep, I think there’s no better time to kick back and rela…
(door flies open)
Jerry: YEEEEEEEEEHAWWWWWW! Well, well, well. If it ain’t FRUMPLESTILZKIN! You massive fat shit! Eatin’ ice cream during a recession, are we, little piggy? YOU FAT FUCK!
Wade: I ain’t afraid of you, Jerry Jones. You can come stomp around in here all you like. But I’m headin’ out to the golf course now, if you don’t mind.
Jerry: You golfin’? THAT’S RICH, FAT STEVENS! I bet they need a golf cart with a goddamn V24 engine to haul your fat droopy ass around the course!
You think I‘m just gonna let you walk out that door, Tastykake? THE DOUBLE-J WILL GIVE UP SWEET SKY PUSSY BEFORE THAT EVER HAPPENS, TURNBLAD! NOW YOU GIT YOUR FAT FOLDS BACK IN THAT CHAIR AND GIT TO WORKIN’ ON MY PRIDE AND JOY!
Wade: No can do, Mr. Jones. What are you gonna do, fire me? You go right ahead.
Jerry: Oh, you think you’re so clever, don’t you? Yep, ol’ Wade’s a regular Hot Pocket Scientist, he is! Think you got one over one me, do ya? THAT’S WHERE YOU’RE WRONG, FLAPPER DON! Good Lord, you smell. Anyone ever tell you smell like a dirty asshole smeared with black beans? BECAUSE YOU DO!
Wade: Say anything you like, Mr. Jones. I’m gone.
Jerry: Not so fast, Tubby! Ol’ Double J has something he’d like you to see. This picture ring a bell?
Wade: Hey, that’s my momma’s house.
Jerry: WAS her house. As of yesterday, it’s now the proud property of JERRY GODDAMN JONES!
Wade: You dirty weasel! That house has been in our family for six generations! What did you do?!
Jerry: BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Hey, don’t look at me, lardfucker! Your momma was willing to sell. So I obliged her by taking the property off her hands.
Wade: My momma has had Alzheimer’s for over eight years!
Jerry: I know! That’s what made negotiatin’ the price so much fun! I tell ya, old folks with no functional memory sure know how to close a deal fast! Here’s what I paid…
Looks like a love for Oreo Cakesters runs in the family, YOU FAT PIECE OF SHIT!
Wade: Where is my momma, you bastard?
Jerry: Oh, don’t you worry, Ham Anderson. Your mom is still resting comfortably in MY house. But you never know if that could change. MWAHAHAHAHA! NO ONE SWINGS A BIGGER DICK THAN THE DOUBLE-J!
Wade: You… You can’t do that! You won’t get away with this!
Jerry: That’s what they said when Switzer and I double-teamed Susan Skaggs in the cockpit! BUT THE DOUBLE-J ALWAYS FINDS A WAY TO FUCK PEOPLE GOOD!
Wade: You… you heartless scum… MARION! Marion?
Jerry: Go ahead, Tubby! Call for Marion. He ain’t coming.
(FIVE DAYS EARLIER)
MBIII: Motherfuckin’ Jerry Jones! Where you at, you motherfucker?! I WILL TAKE A GODDAMN HEDGE TRIMMER TO YOUR LITTLE TINY RICH MAN DICK!
Is that fresh corn on the cob? Mmmm! That smells motherfuckin’ good! MBIII WANTS SOME MOTHERFUCKIN’ FRESH CORN!
(changes direction, tears groin)
AHHHHHHHH MY MOTHERFUCKIN’ GROIN!!!
Jerry: Heh heh heh! Our boy got a groin tear that would make your dick wince! He ain’t comin’ to help you, you fat sack of shit! YEEEEEEEHAWWWWW!!!
Wade: You give me my momma’s house back, you dirty son of a bitch.
Jerry: Oh, I’ll consider it. AFTER you do what I fucking tell you to do, Porky Pig! And you better not slip up. Not even once. Or else, in the middle of the night, before you have a chance to take her back to your house, your poor momma will be out on the goddamn street! Talking to lamp posts, breastfeeding raccoons, and sticking garbage in her pussy!
Wade: You bastard. What do you want from me?
Jerry: Well, you can start by helping me rid myself of your little bodyguard! I have begun the process of looking for a brand new tailback for my boy ROMO! One that won’t break down like a 30-year-old cheerleader’s labia! And you’re gonna help me, Farty Jones! I have a specific player in mind I’d like to target. KNOWSHON GODDAMN MORENO. But we’re gonna have to trade up to git him, Fatlock.
Wade: So what do you want me to do?
Jerry: Well waffle boy, if the Double-J has learned anything about the draft, it’s that the only thing more valuable than information… is MISINFORMATION! Smokescreens! Each one more smoky than the last! The easiest way to git the player you want is to pretend you’re not interested in him, and to spread horrible things about him to other teams so they don’t want him! THAT’S CALLED REVERSE GODDAMN PSYCHOLOGY!
This Moreno is a talented and humble kid. And that won’t do. So, Buttership Wade, your job will be to spread the word that he’s secretly a piece of shit! And that he’s injured! And that he’s gay!
Wade: I will do no such thing.
Jerry: Well then, I guess your momma will have to spend this month without electricity! You think she’ll notice if the mayo gets caterpillars in it?
Wade: Fine. Fine. I’ll help. So how do we get his stock to fall?
(door flies open)
Pacman: Yo yo. Pacman be ridin dat meatballz sub wen he get da call from da owner man sayin’ SHIT BE BACK ON. O HELL YEZ. Pacman gon shine. Pacman gon take dat shizz 2 tha hizzay. He gon lickky dat pussy till da pipe burst. He gon take dat pussy and fillay dat fish. He gon make dat azz bleed like a guud slabba rib.
Pacman like makn dat azz bleed. Pacman say ain’t no azz bleedn till he stik hiz Duralog in. Dat when da azzjoose come loose.
And Pacman gon drank. Oh, he gon drank. BULLEE N DA DAT. You thank he ain’t gon drank? O HE MOS DEFINITE GON DRANK. Pacman say ain’t no drank drank till we skeet n yo eye. Pacman down wid it. Pacman gon drill holez.
Wade: I thought we fired him!
Jerry: We did. AS A PLAYER. But I believe Adam has other valuable assets we can take advantage of as a freelance consultant.
Pacman: O WE GON FREELANCE.
Jerry: Nothing will get that Georgia boy’s stock fallin’ faster than being photographed with my boy ADAM! Just one encounter at a titty bar with him could cost him at least 20 draft slots! And that’s when the Double-J strikes!
But that’s not all! If we call that retard Mortensen and spoonfeed him enough bullshit, we could git Knowshon to fall all the way to ROUND GODDAMN 2! We could tell him anything! “Hey Chris, Knowshon is a dog arsonist!” “Hey Chris, Knowshon raped his babysitter once! WITH A CANDLESTICK!” “Hey Chris, Knowshon takes plays off to stand in line at IHOP!” “Hey Peter King, Knowshon’s agent has shitty coffee!” We may not need to trade up at all!
Wade: Well, who’s gonna take care of the team while I make all these calls?
(door flies open)
Garrett: Mmm. Yes. Indeed. Oh heavens, my dearest Wade. It seems you allowed your ice cream to melt down your very corpulent little fingers. A regrettable sight indeed. AND NOT A GOOD EATING.
Wade: Why you no good…
Garrett: Calm down, my friend! The team is excellent hands with yours truly. Why, just this night, I concocted an entire new series of patterns for Jason Witten to run. I call them “button hooks”. Isn’t that a spanking good name?
Wade: Those have been around forever!
Jerry: SHUT UP, FATTY! You let my boy JASON here do his thing…
Garrett: Indeed. Such are the wonders of my innovations that any teams in the league were not prepared for them! I don’t recall the Lions knowing of my esteemed button hooks!
Jerry: …And you git on the horn with Sports Illustrated and let them know that my boy KNOWSHON got a D- on the Wonderlic!
Pacman: Pacman down wid dat wonderlic. He wonderlic dat azz till he get dat brown Tootsy Pop tung.
Wade: Shit. I can’t believe I’m stuck with these idiots again.
Jerry: AND YOU WILL BE FOREVER! NOW GIT GOIN’, OR ELSE MOMMA PHILLIPS’ HOUSE WILL BURN TO THE FUCKING GROUND, LARDI GRAS! YEEEEEEHAWWWWWW!!!! WOOO HOOOOOOOO!!! I AM BACK AND I AM STILL FUCKIN’ CRAZY!!!!