I Cannot Possibly Babysit All Of Darren McFadden’s Illegitimate Children

Wade: Hoo boy! Preparin’ for this draft certainly has been a mountain of work. Back in my daddy’s day, we’d never have dreamed of this level of preparation: scouting reports, interviews, workouts, background checks, statistical analyses. My, my goodness. I tell ya, it’s nothing like it used to be. Heck, I could work 24 hours a day and there’d still be more to do if I wanted to!

But I tell you what. Ain’t no rule saying I can’t burn the midnight oil without treating myself to a bottle of suds or two.

(opens office mini fridge)

Yep, it’s eight o-clock. Past the point of no return. If I’m gonna be late preparing these here scouting reports, I may as well settle in for the long haul. There’s something about a beer late at the office. It makes work feel a whole lot less work-like, I reckon. I’m sure gonna enjoy this.

(pops bottle)

Now to simply bring the bottle to my lips and tip it back so that the frosty liquid can, by force of gravity, fall into my mouth…

(door flies open)


Jerry: YEEEEEEEEHAAWWWWWW!!!!!! Yee! Haw! YEEHAW!

Wade: Oh, no.

Jerry: Well, well, well! Drinking on the job, are ya, Chubtard?!

Wade: Sir, I hadn’t even…

Jerry: CHUBTARD CHUBTARD CHUBTARD CHUBTARD CHUBTARD!!!! You like that name, Chubtard?! I thought of it when I was bareback riding my bull over here tonight! I like it because it says you’re both chubby AND retarded! And you are! CHUBTARD!

Wade: I don’t like that name, Sir.

Jerry: That’s what makes it so fun to say, Minister Fudge! Now, what the fuck makes your fat ass think you can drink alkeehol on the job? You don’t own this team! Know who does? Huh? Do you know, Fat The Dripper?

Wade: You do, Sir.

Jerry: YOU GODDAMN RIGHT! THE OL’ DOUBLE-J, OWNER OF THE DALLAS COWBOYS, MOST VALUABLE FRANCHISE IS ALL OF SPORTS AND CROWN JEWEL OF THE GREAT STATE OF TIXAS! TIXAS!!!!!

Wade: Yes, Sir.

Jerry: Hey, Fatlock! Only the DOUBLE-J gets to enjoy his alkeehol on the job! You got me, Faaaatlock?

Wade: Yes, Sir.

Jerry: What kinda fucking beer you drinkin’ anyhow, Chubtard? Bud Light?! BAHAHAHA! That ain’t no drink! (pours self drink that’s one half sarsaparilla and one half skin liniment) Now THERE’S a drink! I do like my sassparilly! You ever try sassparilly, Captain Cumbersome?

Wade: No, sir. Not really my cup of tea.

Jerry: Not your cup of tea? TEA? Jesus, for someone with such a loose ass, you sure are a tightass. You stir that tea with a black cock? Drink some of this, Tubby.

Wade: Sir, I…

Jerry: Just try it. You need to loosen up, Fatty. Matter of fact, put that work aside for tonight. We’re gonna get shitfaced, then we’re gonna head over to the titty bar and get TITFACED!

Wade: But these scouting reports!

Jerry: Oh, fuck the scouting reports! We’re not gonna need those this year, Pop Secret. Double-J’s got a slippery ace up his ol’ sleeve. Now drink, Dumpty! DRINK YOU BIG FAT FAGGOT!

(two hours later at a bar)

Wade: (drunk, singing) You wanna be startin’ something! You got be startin’ somethin’! Mama say mama sah nama moo sah! Mama say mama sah nama moo sah! Mama say mama sah nama moo sah!

Jerry: (also drunk) SING IT, BOY! HOO WEE, YOU’RE JUST LIKE THE FAT CHICK FROM HEART!

Wade: Mama say mama sah nama moo sah! Mama say mama sah nama moo sah! Mama say mama sah nama moo sah!

Jerry: I tell ya, you aren’t such a bad time when you got a little liquor in you, Chubtard.

Wade: Well, you never asked to hang out.

Jerry: Oh, bullllshit, you big fat dicklicker! I invite you out all the time! I invited you to my wife’s daffodil party!

Wade: You made me bartend.

Jerry: THAT’S BECAUSE EVERY GOOD PARTY NEEDS A FAT, FRIENDLY BARTENDER! IN A BOWTIE!

Wade: (does a shot) I never liked you, Jones. You ain’t no better a man than me.

Jerry: Well, I’m sorry you feel that way, Mr. Chow. I didn’t mean no harm. I wouldn’t keep you around here if I didn’t think you were the right man for the job.

Wade: You mean it?

Jerry: I do.

Wade: Will you shake on that?

Jerry: I will.

(shakes Wade’s hand, knocks him out with one punch)

(cut to one day later)

Wade: Wha… where am I?


Wade: Who are all these children? (phone rings) Hello?

Jerry: YEEEEEEHAW!!!!!! WAKE UP, CHUBTARD!

Wade: Where am I?

Jerry: You are at a home I recently purchased for a young man named Darren McFadden. And, more specifically, for his many various offspring.

Wade: But why?

Jerry: I told you my boy ROMO was goddamn STAR, didn’t I? And I told you he needed more stars, did I not? Well, this young man is a goddamn SUPERSTAR! And we’re gonna make him the next great running back for the Dallas Cowboys! I'm trading all our picks to get him! But I need my boy MCFADDEN to focus! I can’t have him worrying about those little babies scurrying around and shitting all over the place! YOU will get to oversee their growth and what not personally. It’s Fatty Day Care!!!

Wade: So this is why you got me drunk? So you could trap me here!

Jerry: That’s my boy Wade! Always figuring out shit AFTER it’s happened! Way to go, Tits-fer-brains! Now listen, those octuplets need formula on a staggered rotation of every five minutes! And you better get it to them soon! Darren ain’t been home for seven days! Look how pale those little bastards are! They're barely half-Negro anymore! There’s also three more kids upstairs. And six more in the basement. And his latest, Superb, is due from the hospital later today. Oh, and there’s Maury.


Maury: Hey.

Wade: Who’s Maury?

Jerry: He’s Darren’s oldest son. Make sure he gets his Weetabix in the mornin’, or he gets feisty!

Maury: Where’s my cereal, bitch?

Wade: But who will take care of the team while I’m doing this?

Jerry: You can talk to him yourself.

(passes phone)


Garrett: Hmm. I was told those children needed a father figure. But you’re more figure than father now, aren’t you?

Wade: You dirty snake!

Garret: Oops. Gotta run. Ta!

(passes phone back)

Wade: Shit.

Jerry: Enjoy the not-quite-miracle of foster fatherhood, Chubtard! YEEEEEHAWWWWW!!! WOOOO HOOOOOOO I AM FUCKING CRAZY!!!!

I Do Not Feel Comfortable In The Confines Of A Strip Club

Wade: Welp, I’d say this has been a solid offseason so far for us. We had that tough go of it against those pesky Giants, but dangit if they didn’t go hog wild and win that Lombardi Trophy! My my my! I think that’s a good sign for us as a team. We’re a bunch of young’uns, and now these boys know what it’s gonna take to get that ring.

Mostly, I’m glad Mr. Jones saw it in his heart to give me a second chance. This coachin’ life can git pretty darn lonely sometimes. Movjn’ around all over the country, you ain’t got no time to put roots down. Friends seem to come and go just like that. But we’re finally out of the crazy season, and maybe Darlene and I can finally go out on the town with a few of the neighbors, make some new friends, and have ourselves a spot of fun for once in a blue moon. Matter of fact, think I’ll arrange a dinner party at PF Chang’s this very same day. Hoowee, the Mrs. will be surprised at ol’ Wade takin’ a little bit of the initiative and makin’ plans!

(picks up phone)

I wonder if they still have those lettuce wraps. I sure do like the way they…


Jerry: YEEEEEEEEHAAWWWWWW!!!!!! Say, is it fat in here, or is it just YOU?! YOU FAT FUCKING GLOP OF SHIT!

Wade: Oh, no.

Jerry: On the phone with the delivery boy again, Fleshy Gordon? Don’t you know that if you keep makin’ that poor Chinaman pedal his bike over here, his little chopstick legs’ll fall off! MY GOD, YOU’RE FORCING HIM TO RIDE THE TOUR DE SHRIMP TOAST, YOU BIG FAT ASSHOLE! I see March Fatness arrived RIGHT ON TIME FOR YOU this year!

Wade: Sir, I’m making plans for the evening, if you don’t mind.

Jerry: Never mind that, Divine. I’ve got shit for you to do. Besides, I’m assuming the only plans you’re making for the evening involve a pint of Dulce De Leche and kneading your pork loin to a copy of Vanity Fair your old lady left lying around the house!

Wade: I was trying to schedule a dinner date actually.

Jerry: Son, you married dinner a long time ago. THIS IS NOT THE TIME FOR YOUR FAT ASS TO BE MAKIN’ PLANS WITHOUT THE DOUBLE-J’S CONSENT, TUBBALICIOUS!

Wade: Sir, it was just one night.

Jerry: Well, table it, Rush-to-eat Limburger. WE ARE IN THE MIDDLE OF FREE AGENCY! And I want this team to make a splash! Why do you think I kept you around, Fatty? If I’m gonna make a splash, I may as well keep the man who can drain an ocean basin just by dipping his toe in it! Now, if I learned anything from this season, it’s that my boy ROMO is a goddamn STAR! But it’s not enough to have just one STAR! We need a whole shitload of stars here so that my boy ROMO doesn’t feel all that pressure. AND I DON’T SEE ANY STARS COMIN’ THROUGH THAT DOOR, BAREFOOT CONTESSA!

Wade: Well, we were able to bring in Zach Thomas…

Jerry: That’s wonderful, Tubby. I’m glad you and the grease stains on your Wranglers liked that signing. BUT ZACH THOMAS AIN’T NO STAR! I wanted Randy Moss walking through that door, and all I got was Jason Taylor’s retard brother-in-law! His decline is as inevitable as Barack Obama’s future assassination! I want NEWSMAKERS, you fat fucking crescent roll. I’m askin’ for delivery and you’re givin’ me DiGiornio. And DiGiornio AIN’T SHIT!

Wade: Well, what do you suggest?

(door flies open)



Pacman: Where them bitches at?

Wade: Oh, no. No way. That feller ain’t nothin’ but trouble.

Jerry: GODDAMN RIGHT HE IS! He‘s perfect! Just think, every time my boy ROMO takes Jessica Simpson down to the Caymans for a good Texas tenderizin’, my boy ADAM here’ll be raisin’ hell to keep those fat, disgusting reporters distracted. Ain’t that right, Adam?

Pacman: There’s too much light in this club. That bitch too fat with all this light. I NEED A COKE.

Jerry: Settle down, Adam. This is not actually the strip club. We had to stop here in Coach Quizno’s office here before we get to the club. Remember how I told you not to throw quarters at our receptionist?

Pacman: Man, fuck that bitch.

Wade: We can’t sign him! He’s not even reinstated!

Jerry: Listen, fatass. I am working diligently with the league office to get my boy ADAM here back on the field. Don’t you doubt the Double-J’s ability to make that happen. I got more pull in that office than you do at the Dunkin Donuts register! Adam is good young man. He’s just got a little sickness, you see. He has a very specific kind of agoraphobia that keeps him from feeling comfortable outside his safe place. It’s just that HIS safe place is the Gold Club.

Pacman: TURN THE FUCKING MUSIC UP! I CAN HEAR MYSELF THINK!

Wade: Well, what do I do about it?

Jerry: That’s just the thing. YOU will be chaperoning Adam from club to club through the duration of his stay in our fine, stripper-laden city. Way I figure it, with your fat ass there, there’ll ALWAYS be somethin’ in the way of Adam and any kind of trouble. He won’t be able to flick nary a clitoris without having to traverse your mammoth terrain first. It’d be like tryin’ to give Jupiter a reacharound.

Wade: Sir!

Jerry: Just you wait, Adam. You’re gonna feel REAL safe in this town. You’re gonna be tits deep in SMU commuter student pussy in no time!

Wade: This is incredibly inappropriate, Sir. I do not feel comfortable in the confines of a strip club.

Jerry: Oh, loosen up Turnblad, if it’s physically possible for you to loosen up your body more than you already have. I’m sending you to the titty bar FOR WORK! THIS IS HOW BUSINESS GETS DONE IN TEXAS, GUMGUZZLER!

Wade: We’ve got a lot of draft prep to do and more. Who’s gonna do all that if I have to stay with him 24/7?

(door flies open)


Garrett: Oh, dear. I was told to beware the peptides of March. Yet here they are in their most corpulent manifestation.

Wade: YOU! I thought you were dead!

Garrett: Hmm. Yes. Indeed. Ha ha. I’m afraid you fell for a bit of a ruse, my fudgy friend.

Wade: What?!

Jerry: Oh come on now, DJ Bisquick, you didn’t think I’d actually shoot my boy GARRETT, didja? HOW ELSE WAS I SUPPOSED TO GET THAT FAT COCKSUCKER PARCELLS OFF THE PHONE? I gave Princeton Boy here a new contract. $4 million a year ain’t too much for my boy wonder!

Wade: But that’s more than I make!

Jerry: Which is why you get to escort Adam here to the ol’ Poon Saloon! NOW GET YOUR ASS OUTTA HERE. I DON’T WANNA SEE YOU BACK HERE UNTIL ALL YOUR CASH IS GONE AND YOU SMELL LIKE SOMEONE DUMPED A GALLON OF JESSICA SIMPSON’S DESSERT PERFUME ON YOU!

Pacman: Hey Fatman, let’s go get pussymad.

Wade: This sucks.

Jerry: WAAAAAHOOOOOOO!!!!! GET CHANGE FOR A HUNDRED AND BURY THEM ELBOWS IN SOME TEXAS ‘TANG, YOU FUCKING FAT PIECE OF OSSO BUCO! NYEEEEEHAW I AM FUCKIN’ CRAZY!!!!