The Saints Get A Surprise Visitor

02.05.10 8 years ago 139 Comments

Drew Brees: I can’t believe it, Pierre. We’re in the Super Bowl! All that hard work from the past year, from the past FOUR years, has paid off! Now we get to take the biggest stage in sports!

Pierre Thomas: Yup.

Brees: Now we gotta take down Peyton Manning.

Thomas: Yup.

Brees: Won’t be easy.

Thomas: Nope.

Brees: Well, I have faith in Coach Payton.

Thomas: Coach Payton know what time it is.

Brees: He’s got a solid plan. I have faith in him. And I have faith in US. We didn’t come this far just to let the folks back home down. I can tell you that.

Sean Payton: Okay, men! Listen up! Brees! Thomas! Everyone! I want all eyes on me. Right now.

Brees: What’s up, Coach?

Payton: Men. You are now two days away from the biggest game of your lives. This isn’t gonna be like any game you’ve ever played. All your hopes. All your dreams. Everything you’ve ever wanted is going to be within your reach on Sunday night. Now, I know this is Miami. Big fun down here. But I want you men focused. I want you concentrating. You and I know damn well that other team has been here before and is treating this game like its all business. I need you to do the same. That’s why I brought someone special to come in today to talk to you.

Brees: Who?

(door flies open)



Brees: Rex Ryan? You brought in the coach of another team?

Payton: I know it’s unusual, but Coach Ryan here can offer us some valuable advice for beating these Colts.

Ryan: Oh! Oh, men. MEN. What a day I had down here in ol’ MY AND MY! My brother used to call this place MY AND MY because he’d see some of the pussy walking around this joint and have nothing left to say but MY AND MY!

(drinks two liter bottle of soda, lets out 9-second burp)

Ryan: Did you boys know you can’t shoot at the Hispaniolas down here? My Daddy used to get his gun and sit on his porch in Oklahoma and shoot at any Hispaniola that walked by. Can’t do that down here. And seeing some of the fiery Hispaniola pooooontang, I can see why! YOU GUYS KNOW WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT, AM I RIGHT?

(slaps random player on the back)

Brees: Kind of.

Ryan: Ah, Mr. Drew Brees. Been waiting a looong time to meet you, boy! I’ve seen you play, and for a faggot QB, you ain’t half bad! You are one cool shit, you know that Brees? How many TDs you throw this year, Breezy?

Brees: I don’t remember, sir.

Ryan: Bullshit.

Brees: I just remember it was a lot, sir.

Ryan: He just remembers it was a lot! HA! That is cool shit. You are cold as an old shit, you know that, Brees?

Brees: Yes, sir.

Ryan: I bet the pussy just follows you around all day like a rain cloud. Even with Easter Island sitting there on your face. Doesn’t it? (sniffs) I bet you fuck girls like a cannibal!

Brees: Actually, sir. I’m married and…


Ryan: Oh! Oh! Oh, ol’ Breezy here gets himself some wifey pussy! WIFEY PUSSY IS THE HOTTEST PUSSY OF ALL! THAT’S GREAT HUSTLE!

(slaps Brees on the ass, hard)

Brees: Ouch!

Ryan: Now, why’d you go get married there, boy? Good-looking people shouldn’t get married! I only got married because I needed someone around to button my pants!

Brees: Well, I love my wife, sir.

Ryan: Look at this fella. Answering every stupid question I throw his way. COOL UNDER FUCKING FIRE. I like you, Breezy. Now, first order of business here: NICKNAMES. BREEZY, your new nickname is Ice Man! And Pierre, your new nickname is Frenchie!

Pierre: Yes, sir.

Ryan: Now, Coach Payton here asked me to come in and speak to you boys. And I said yes. And you know why? Because I love that town of yours! Everything there is blackened, EVEN THE WOMEN! I met a light-skinned black girl down New Orleans way that would light your dick on fire if you saw her! I nicknamed her Almond Joy, because she’d be great with a little bit of white and a little bit of nut in her! YOU BOYS KNOW WHAT THE FUCK I’M TALKING ABOUT!

(everyone cheers)

Ryan: Next order of business: BOUNTIES! $50 to the first guy who takes a bite out of that fucker Freeney’s ankle. AND NO PUSSY BITES! I want you biting down until you lose a crown! Also, $1,000 to the first asshole to take a shot at Manning’s knee two minutes after the whistle has blown! WHISTLE? I DIDN’T HEAR ANY WHISTLE. BLOW HARDER NEXT TIME, REF! YOU BIG FUCKING QUEER!

(chews 8 bags of Red Man at once)

Brees: Sir, I think we can beat the Colts without resorting to cheap tactics.

Ryan: Bullshit, Ice Man. I just played those fuckers two weeks ago. And we got OUR FUCKING ASSES KICKED. That Manning fucker is like a robot! A robot that can’t get decent pussy! Even the Conquistador didn’t have an answer for him!

Now, you boys here have Gregg Williams as your defensive coordinator. And let me tell you something about Gregg Williams: He is a penis. That man is just one giant fucking penis. But Coach Williams and I share a philosophy, one you’re gonna need come Sunday.

Brees: What’s that?


(inhales loudly)

Men, this Manning fucker will fucking kill you and eat you if you sit back. We need to send the fucking house. We need to send the whole fucking block. I want all of you ATTACKING! PURSUING! DOUBLE A GAP BLITZ! DOUBLE A GAP BLITZ! I WANT YOU TO KILLLLLLLLLLLLL!

Brees: But won’t he burn us if we blitz?

Ryan: Boy, you’re gonna get burned anyway. The only way to stop it is to make that fucker BLEED. To put the fear of God in him. To break and claw and maul. He needs to hear the hoofs galloping towards him. HE NEEDS TO KNOW THE FUCKING MACHINE OF WAR IS COMING FOR HIM AND ONLY HIM.

Brees: But how do we do that?

Ryan: There’s only one way. Men. MEN. I need you to stop being Saints. For one night. FOR THIS NIGHT, I want you to forsake Sainthood. I want you to become…

Brees: Whoa.

Ryan: A Saint has mercy. You cannot have mercy. A Saint has compassion. You cannot have compassion. A saint loves all creatures great and small. You cannot love all creatures great and small. Men, you must become SINNERS. I don’t want you men to be Mother Theresa out there. I want you men to bend Mother Theresa’s hot little skeleton over the bench and have your way with her. We play a violent game. We play a game full of sin. Full of greed and power and selfishness. And that’s what I need out of you. I need you to forget about being the good guys two days from now. I need you to forget about being America’s fucking Sweethearts and the Little Team That Could. I need you to be sinners. I need you to be men who will stop at nothing to fulfill only their most base desires. VIOLENCE. BOOZE. PUSSY. Don’t play for your city. Don’t play for your families. Don’t play for your fans. Play for that insatiable beast inside all of you that desires nothing more than its own fulfillment. On this day, I want you men to forsake niceties. And I want you to find that evil inside of you.

We all have evil in our hearts, men. There’s not a man in this room who hasn’t dreamed of killing another man, whether he’s willing to admit it or not. We have consciences that keep that evil from ever surfacing. But now. NOW. I need you to let that blockade loose. I need you to let that evil deep down inside you grow, and pulse, and break free, and come out and FUCKING MUUURRRRRRRDERRRRRRRRRR everything and everyone in sight. I WANT BLOOD ON YOUR LIPS! I WANT EVIL IN YOUR EYES! I WANT DEATH AND ANGER IN YOUR THOUGHTS AND NOTHING ELSE! WILL YOU DO THAT?

Everyone: YES!


Everyone: YES!


Everyone: YES!

Ryan: Then say it with me WHO DAT!

Everyone: WHO DAT!

Ryan: WHO DAT!

Everyone: WHO DAT!



Ryan: You are!

Everyone: WE ARE!

Ryan: You men are fucking WINNERS. Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise. You are big giant fucking winners with giant golden cocks, and you will go out there, and you will fucking crush those piece of shit Colts, and you will fulfill your destinies. YOU WILL WIN, AND THEN WE’RE ALL GOING OUT FOR MARGARITAS AND ALLEYWAY PUSSY! I want you to beauxne some ladies! ARE YOU WITH ME?

Everyone: YES!


Everyone: SINNERS!

Ryan: Oof! That was good! I gotta go give some asshole the finger!

(licks three day old bit of frosting off of wrist)

Brees: That was different.

Photoshop by LSUFreek

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