Wednesday, December 24, 2008

It's a Corpulent Life

Series of shots of various streets and buildings in the town of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. The streets are deserted, and snow is falling.

It is Christmas Eve. Over the above scenes we hear voices praying:

SHOOTER'S VOICE: Dear God, I promise to stop strangling hobos if you fire Andy Reid. Amen.

BULLET'S VOICE: Joseph, Jesus and Mary. All would do better than Andy Reid. Take him home, dear God.

MRS. REID's VOICE: Help him finally eat so much that he explodes tonight.

GARRETT REID'S VOICE: He never makes the right decision, God. That's my pop!

BRITT REID'S VOICE: I need more drugs, dear Lord. Fill up my anus with drugs. Oh, and kill Dad, since I can't seem to do it myself.

DONOVAN MCNABB'S VOICE: Please God, give me some wideouts that actually catch the ball when I throw it to them. Oh, and if you want to lose Fatso, that works for me.

BRIAN WESTBROOK'S VOICE: Please, God. Something is wrong with my legs. Help.

ZUZU'S VOICE: I'm just a fictional character that's designed to make you cry like a 12-year-old girl, and even I know he sucks eggs. Please keep Andy away from all of us, God.

CAMERA PULLS UP from the Reid home and travels up through the sky until it is above the falling snow and moving slowly towards a sky full of stars. As the camera stops we hear the following heavenly voices speaking, and as each voice is heard, the various stars twinkle brightly.

JEROME BROWN'S VOICE: Whassup, Joseph. Tell me again why I haven't gotten wings yet?

JOSEPH'S VOICE: Jerome, we've talked about this. No matter what Eagle Fan thinks, you don't get into heaven just from being really good at football and dying for no good reason.

JEROME'S VOICE: That's cold.

JOSEPH'S VOICE: Looks like we'll have to send someone down -- a lot of people are asking to be rid of a man named Andy Reid.

FRANKLIN'S VOICE: Andy Reid. Yes, tonight's only his 40th crucial night in the last three years. You're right, we'll have to send someone down immediately. Whose turn is it?

JOSEPH's VOICE: Well, that's just the thing. No one wants to go. I've asked everyone, and no one wants to have a thing to do with him anymore. You'd think that, with all of us being beatific beings, we'd be on this as part of our duty, but no one wants to get near him, on the off chance that failure and fatness is contagious.

JEROME'S VOICE: Dammit, I know what all a y'all are going to do. Send the brother on the fringe. Like I want any part of his fat ass.

FRANKLIN'S VOICE: Jerome, please. You're fairly large yourself.

JEROME'S VOICE: Not like him! For God's sake, I could move! I got quarterback pressure! I was absolute misery on screens!

FRANKLIN'S VOICE: Yeah, but look at you now. Getting that Eternal 15 and then some, aren't you?

JEROME'S VOICE: Screw you, whitey.

JOSEPH'S VOICE: Jerome, look, we'll make this simple. At exactly ten-forty-five PM tonight, local time, Andy Reid will be thinking seriously of throwing away God's greatest gift.

FRANKLIN'S VOICE: Mostly when the outraged townspeople throw him off a bridge.

JEROME'S VOICE: Dude, have you watched this man work or eat in the last five years? There's nothing new to this thought process.

FRANKLIN'S VOICE: Jerome's got a point.

JOSEPH'S VOICE: Look, do the right thing, you get your wings.

JEROME'S VOICE: Finally. It's worse than Canton up here.


ANDY: God... God... Dear Father in Heaven, I'm not a praying man, but if you're up there and you can hear me, show me some more hot wings. I'm fresh out.

JEROME enters, breaking down the door with a quick shoulder burst.

ANDY: Wow. You're big, fast, strong. I'd hire you in a second to play defensive line for my team. But you're too big. I only like lineman that are built like linebackers. Small linebackers.

JEROME slaps ANDY hard.

ANDY: I'm sorry. That was my fault.

JEROME: Shut up.

ANDY: I've got to do better.

JEROME: You want me to slap you again?

ANDY: Maybe.

JEROME (visibly disgusted): Look, you fat tub of goo, I've watched you for the last ten years, along with everyone else in Philadelphia.


JEROME: I'm your guardian angel. And not in a faggy New York way, either. I'm more dead than your playoff hopes.

ANDY: Well, you look like the kind of angel I'd get.

JEROME slaps ANDY hard.

ANDY: I'm sorry. That was my fault.

JEROME: Anyway, no one else wanted to be seen with your sorry ass, and the Turk in the Sky is going to give me my wings if I turn you around.

ANDY: OK. You wouldn't happen to have any wings on you, would you? I'd also take Krispy Kreme.

JEROME slaps ANDY hard.

ANDY: I'm sorry. That was my fault.

JEROME: S'alright. I've had worse days. (thinking) So, you think eating yourself to death, chronically mismanaging your talent, blowing every close game and becoming the division's bitch would... aw, hell, I don't know why you'd do that.

ANDY (dejectedly): Oh, I don't know. I guess you're right. I suppose it would have been better if I'd never been born at all.

JEROME: Done and done. (Lowers himself into a three point stance, then pops out and flattens ANDY like a pancake.)

ANDY (bleeding): Why did you do that?

JEROME: My hands were starting to hurt from slapping you. Anyway, you've never been born. You don't exist. You haven't a care in the world.

ANDY feels his stomach as JEROME talks.

JEROME: No worries - no obligations - no Philadelphia sports fans and media to placate with the same cliches that you've said a thousand times before. No kids in prison. No nationally televised Terrell Owens de-pantsing in a few days.

ANDY: Look at my feet!

JEROME: What about them?

ANDY: I can see them!

JEROME: Yeah, whatever.

WIPE TO: ANDY and JEROME outside a local sports bar. ANDY is hesitant to go inside.

JEROME: What's the matter?

ANDY (reluctant): Well, if I go in there, they'll throw rotted fruits and vegetables at me. And I'm kind of liking this ability to see my feet.

JEROME: Just get your ass in there.


JEROME: That's all right, no one's going to mess with you if you are with me.

CROWDS OF SPECTATORS: Holy crap, it's Jerome Brown!

JEROME: See? Now sit your less-fat ass down.

ANDY: But won't the bartender spit in my drink in front of me?

JEROME: Why would he do that? You never coached the Eagles. You never lost three straight NFC Championship Games, two of them at home. You never traded for Lorenzo Booker, drafted Jerome McDougle or Freddie Mitchell in the first round, and reached for Kevin Kolb to create a constant swirl of speculation around your star quarterback.

ANDY: Damn, I sucked.

JEROME: I'd go on, but I don't have to. You didn't exist.

ANDY: How did they do without me?

JEROME: Hell if I know. Ask the bartender. I just got the last ten years of my afterlife back.

ANDY: OK. Hey, bartender, how have the Eagles done in the last 10 years?

BARTENDER: Don't ask me. I'm a Bengals fan.

ANDY: Really?

BARTENDER: Sure, ever since the Eagles passed on Donovan McNabb for Ricky Williams. What that man has done in the Natti, with those wideouts, is just amazing. And to think, they could have been stuck with Akili Smith.

ANDY: Huh.

BARTENDER: Well, I'm from Ohio originally anyway, so I might not be the best guy to ask. Why don't you talk to that guy down there, in the WAYNE jersey. His name's Doug.

ANDY: Thanks. (Slides over.) Hey, the bartender tells me you're an Eagles fan. This will sound odd, but can you tell me how the team has done in the past 10 years?

DOUG (shrugging): Well, Ricky Williams and Jim Haslett looked like they'd be good for a little while, especially when they added the best wideout in the history of the franchise in 2001 with my man Reggie. But they were never able to find a decent QB after passing on McNabb, and after Ricky got caught with the weed, they really fell apart for a while there. I'm still amazed that Ryan Leaf took the Cowboys to a playoff game.

ANDY (grinning): Gee, that's too bad.

DOUG: But then we got Troy Polamalu in 2003, and watching him and Brian Dawkins kill people for the last five years has made me happier than you could imagine. And I'm really excited about when Felix Jones comes back next year.


DOUG: It's just football, you know? The Eagles go up and down, but so long as it seems like there's a plan and positive growth, I'm a pretty happy fan. And now that we've got Coach Spagnuolo and this local kid Joe Flacco, I really think we're going to be good next year. Besides, the rest of the division is made up of big money fools.

JEROME: Heard enough?

ANDY: I think so. Let's get out of here.


JEROME: So, that's what the world would have been like without you. The Eagles never sign Terrell Owens, because they have Reggie Wayne. They still haven't won a Super Bowl, but they also haven't had the ridiculous drama of the past few years. And I'm still dead, which really sucks.

ANDY: Yeah. I think I'm going to want to live again, though.

JEROME: Dude, why?

ANDY: Well, I still get to make McNabb throw it 50 to 60 times a game, and that's got to work eventually.

JEROME slaps ANDY hard.

ANDY: Also, there's the eating. I wouldn't want to miss the eating.

JEROME slaps ANDY hard.

ANDY: I'm sorry. That was my fault.

JEROME: Yes. Yes it is. Son of a bitch.

(roll credits)


CMJDad said...

There is a 12 Step meeting for you right around the corner. Call me, I'll take you there and hold your hand.

Tracer Bullet said...

Geez, Shooter. Even I don't want the guy dead. But Polamalu and Dawkins . . . Ohhh, I think I just came.

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