This Is It. You’re My Only Hope, Mr. BPLC.

Andy Reid: I just can’t take this. I’m at my wit’s end. My family is crumbling and I can’t seem to find a way to make things better. I wish I could, but things are too far gone now for me to find a simple answer.

I need help. I’m man enough now to admit that I need help putting this family back on the right track. You’re my only shot here. I heard you have quite a good reputation for solving problems. So I’m asking now for you to help my kids through this dark time. Will you help?


Bill Parcells, Life Coach: Sure. That’s no problem. I’ll shape up your little shithead kids. You fat fuck.

Andy: Hoo! They said you were brutally honest. But I have to admit, it’s downright refreshing.

BPLC: Oh, I’m honest all right. To a fault. Beyond a fault. Some people would argue that it borders on pathological. Where’s you wife? You married WAY out of your league. She’s hot and I would like to masturbate to her.

Andy: She’s out at lunch. But I need you to focus on the kids. Perhaps you could give them a taste of your legendary sarcasm?

BPLC: (sarcastic) Oh, like that’ll work. You fucking loser.

Andy: Yes! Just like that! That’s the kind of blunt, in-your-face attitude that I think can make a difference.

BPLC: My daily rate for family consultations is $1 million. If you don’t like it, you can suck it. Also, I may bail at lunch.

Andy: That’s fine. Shall I introduce you to the boys?

BPLC: Oh yeah. Bring the little girls in.

(Britt and Garrett walk in)


Andy: Uh, boys? This is Mr. Parcells. He’s going to be your life coach for the next few days.

Britt: Fuck you. Annnnnndy!

BPLC: Are you Britt? I could tell by that loser goatee of yours. It looks like you took your old man’s mustache and threw it on your chin. I can still smell the Elmer’s Glue.

Britt: Fuck you. Why should we listen to you, you old fat asshole?

Garrett: Yeah, you couldn’t even win a playoff game in Dallas.

BPLC: There were mitigating circumstances you two little jagoffs couldn’t possibly fathom. Perhaps, if you two listen to me, maybe you wouldn’t still be living at home. Maybe you’d be able to talk The Big Pushover here into setting up an apartment for you. That way, you wouldn't have to sneak around to get beer and pussy.

Garrett: Really? We could do that?

BPLC: Sure. I let LT have his old place, and that guy was a fucking wreck. You see, it's all about PRODUCTION, kids. But you two Corkys can’t even manage that. Now I’m going to call you both faggots, that way you’ll think I think you’re gay.

Britt: We are SO not gay!

BPLC: Prove it. (whips out issue of Swank) Jerk off to this picture of Tera Patrick taking a PVC pipe up the ass.

Britt: You want me to masturbate right now?

BPLC: Yup.

Britt: In a room full of guys?

BPLC: Yup.

Britt: Isn’t that kinda gay?

BPLC: Not if you use the right technique.

Britt: I… I can’t do that.

BPLC: Then I’m afraid I’m just going to have to keep thinking of you as gay. Now, to establish your layalty even further, I’m going to treat both of you with extreme coldness in the hopes that you take the bait and become desperate to please me.

Garrett: That is so lame. That isn’t gonna work, you old dick.

BPLC: I’m sorry, Andy. Do you hear something? I thought I heard a real man talking, but all I see in front of me are two girls. Two girls with big gaping vaginas that are dripping with horse load.

Garrett: You take that back! We are not girls!

BPLC: No? Then prove it. Show me your balls. Whip ‘em out.

Garrett: Right now?

BPLC: Yup. If you two don’t have vaginas, show me your penises so that I have confirmation of it.

Garrett: Fine.

(They whip their dicks out.)

BPLC: Whoa! What are you two showing me your dicks for? You two really ARE faggots!

Britt: But you told us to!

BPLC: Oh, I’m sorry. I’m afraid you fell for another one of my ingenious mind games. I have a camera crew set up right outside this kitchen. And you two are now on the record as having whipped your dicks out in front of me. And I can tell you both had very small dicks, as well. All I need to do now is snap my fingers, and the world will know that you two are gay, and that you have small penises. My friend Bobby Knight will get a real kick out of this tape.

Garrett: Wait! Please! Don’t do this!

BPLC: Too late now! Nothing I can do about it.

Britt: We’ll stop dealing drugs!

Garrett: Yeah! And we’ll obey more traffic laws!

Britt: And we’ll respect the authority of our family structure! Please, don’t humiliate us like this.

BPLC: Hmm. Well, I’ll think about it. I, of course, can’t give you a clear solution to this. I prefer to leave this situation open-ended, so that you’re always unsure of just where you stand. It should help keep you two GIRLS on your toes, always in fear of me. You see how that works? (walks up to Andy) You can cut me that check now, Andy. Make it out to The Head Grocery Shopper. Got it, jackass?

Andy: Damn, he’s good.