Very Nice Kid Who Has Cancer And Loves The Packers: Oh, boy! Today is my lucky day! I can’t believe the Make A Wish foundation was able to get Aaron Rodgers to come visit me in the hospital! He’s awesome! He’s better than Brett Favre! He’s gonna lead us to the Promised Land! This is the greatest day of my life! I’m so, so happy! I wonder when he’s gonna show up.
Mr. Rodgers? Mr. Rodgers, is that you?
(door flies open)
Goth Aaron Rodgers: What?
Very Nice Kid Who Has Cancer And Loves The Packers: It IS you! You came to visit me!
Goth Aaron Rodgers: Pfft. Whatever.
Very Nice Kid Who Has Cancer And Loves The Packers: Aren’t you gonna sign my jersey?
Goth Aaron Rodgers: Why would I do that? Ink is the spoiled blood of corporate writing instruments. A name is nothing more than a brand, seared into the flesh by your whore of a mother and your drunken rapist of a father. It is not your true identity, which is why I instruct my closest friends to always refer to me as Coagula. THAT is my true given name, as decreed by the archdaemon Secchus in a ritual ceremony we have in the Kum & Go parking lot every August.
Very Nice Kid Who Has Cancer And Loves The Packers: But… but… but you’re my hero.
Goth Aaron Rodgers: Hero? Hero? What is that? What is a hero? A hero is just a man who does “good deeds” in order to buttress his own bloated self-legacy. It is a delusion, one that gives man permission to worship himself and tear apart vaginas as he pleases. Heroes REPULSE me. Ask Matthew Lillard on Monday evening’s episode of “House” what being a “hero” is worth.
/spits on the ground
Here is the needle
Here are your dead eyelids
I wrote that in my head just now.
Very Nice Kid Who Has Cancer And Loves The Packers: You’re weird.
Goth Aaron Rodgers: Am I? Am I “weird,” or am I normal and everyone else is “Weird”? Just because you conform to society’s rules and let it inject you with radium doesn’t mean you’re normal, young lad. Far from it. You are a walking cog. And the tumor inside you makes you a defective part in society’s endless rape of Nature’s womb.
I will sign my name for you, but only if I can sign upon your tumor itself. If I can sign my name in blood across the tangled mass of teeth and veins that is slowly colonizing your body. Then we will have truly bonded. I, the overlord. And you, my precious “fan”.
Very Nice Kid Who Has Cancer And Loves The Packers: I don’t think they can do that. They said they can’t cut the tumor out.
Goth Aaron Rodgers: That is because they don’t want to. YOU ARE THEIR PAWN, AND YOUR BALD LITTLE HEAD ONLY EMPHASIZES THE SIMILARITY.
Very Nice Kid Who Has Cancer And Loves The Packers: Well, can you at least throw a touchdown for me on Sunday?
Goth Aaron Rodgers: For you? Why would I do that? Do you know why I throw touchdowns, young one? Do you know why I hit Greg Jennings in perfect stride on deep seam routes? BECAUSE IT MEANS NOTHING. Touchdowns are a triumph of nothingness. I wallow in their meaninglessness. I can taste the nihilism. I feel my soul drain every time I throw one, and the emptiness cleanses me. It is an enema of my putrid spirit. Where you see a touchdown, I see a pile of oozing fecal brain matter. THE DIARRHEA OF A DISEASED MIND.
Very Nice Kid Who Has Cancer And Loves The Packers: Uh, can someone get him away from my bed? He’s scaring me now.
Goth Aaron Rodgers: It is not I who should scare you! IT IS THE DEMONCHRIST!
Very Nice Kid Who Has Cancer And Loves The Packers: Just leave so I can have lunch!
Goth Aaron Rodgers: FLORIO WILL MISCONSTRUE THIS MOMENT BETWEEN US! I HAVE FORSEEN IT!
(gets dragged out by security)
YOU CANNOT EVADE THE BLACKNESS, CANCER KID! GOD’S HATE IS OMNIPRESENT!
Very Nice Kid Who Has Cancer And Loves The Packers: Jesus. Hey, there’s Jay Cutler! Jay, can you throw five touchdowns for me on Sunday?
Cutlerfucker: What? Yeah, whatever. Just don’t get your cancer on me.