S--t! You All Have to Hide! Hurry!

Wade: Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Everyone! Everyone! Listen up! I just saw Mr. Jones’ car coming down the freeway. You gotta hide! Everyone, everyone, please hurry up and find a good hiding spot.

Jennifer: But where will you hide, Coach Philips?

Wade: Don’t worry, Jennifer. I am the head coach here. I will handle Mr. Jones myself.

Jennifer: Are you out of your fucking mind? You haven’t seen him after a loss. I’ve been Mr. Jones’ assistant for over five years. Please, Coach, don’t do that to yourself.

Wade: Shit. Well, all right. I guess I’ll find a spot for myself as well.

Jennifer: You sure it was his car?

Wade: It was a white El Dorado with a gold grill and longhorn hood ornament. It was also going 200. Isn’t that his car?

Jennifer: Oh, yeah. That’s his car.

Wade: Then we don’t have much time.

(tries hiding in cardboard box)

Wade: Fuck. This won’t work.

(tries hiding behind houseplant)

Wade: Fuck. This won’t work either.

(tries hiding in shitter. All five stalls are occupied)

Wade: Fuck. I’m just gonna have to hide under the reception desk.

(jumps under reception desk)

Wade: Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name. Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on Earth as it is in…

(Doors fly open)


Jones: WHERE IS THAT BIG FAT SHIT?!

Wade: Shit.

Jones: Wait a second. Where is everybody? Are you hidin’ in here, Fatboy? REAL COWBOYS DON’T HIDE, YOU BIG FAT SHITPIE!

Wade: Just keep quiet, Wade. He’s bound to calm down at some point.

Jones: You really think you can hide from me, Fattykins? I BUILT THIS GODDAMN FACILITY! Matter of fact, I don’t even have to look. All I gotta do to follow the smell!

Wade: Uh-oh.

Jones: What sweet, sweet treat are you hidin’ in your big fat folds this week? Huh, Meringue Boy? (sniffs) Oh, ol’ Double-J definitely smells himself some CHOCOLATE! Isn’t that right, Chumbawumba?

Wade: Shit.

Jones: I definitely smell a little caramel, too! Oh, it’s gonna be too easy to find your fat ass. Are you havin’ fun yet, Fatty? ‘CAUSE I’M HAVIN’ A GAY OL’ TIME HUNTIN’ YOUR FAT ASS DOWN! Chocolate nougat? Crisped rice? It can only mean one thing…

Wade: Uh oh…


Jones: (leaps over counter) GOTCHA! GOTCHA, CAPTAIN DROOP! YOU REALLY THINK YOU CAN HIDE A 100 GRAND BAR FROM SOMEONE WHO GREW UP IN ARKANSAS?!

Wade: Sir, I can explain.

Jones: The only thing you need to explain to me is how you figured I wouldn’t find your 500-lb. ass hiding under a goddamn desk. There’s nothing on earth that conceal those huge tits of yours, Buffet Boy!

Wade: Sir, you’re being very hurtful.

Jones: Hurtful? HURTFUL?! I’ll tell you what’s hurtful, douchedrinker: watching my boy ROMO get outshined by some two-bit Cali gayboy because your fat ass can’t design a defense!

Wade: We had a very good plan in place.

Jones: Oh, you did? Would that be the “Let them score 48 points while I eat an entire box of bonbons” plan? Because that worked to perfection, Tubby! I wanna show you something.

(Enter Jason Garrett)


Garrett:
Constance Fry
Constance Fry
Anytime you call…
Constance would fulfill your needs
Winter, spring, or fall…

Jones: That is a gorgeous song!

Garrett: Do you like it? I learned it in my acappella group. I’m assuming the portly fellow over here assumes that’s some sort of veal dish.

Jones: You see how educated my boy GARRETT is, Admiral Fat? He could have found a way to shut that Brady fucker down!

Garrett: Hmm. Yes. Indeed. A pity such a nice offensive performance was wasted on your slothful nicompoopery.

Wade: This loss is something we all share responsibility for.

Jones: I don’t think so, Meatpile. No, I’m gonna blame this one squarely on YOU. You better figure out a way to beat those Patriots in January. Otherwise, I’m givin’ Paul Anka over here your goddamn job!

Garrett: Oh, why not put the sad fat man out of his misery now, Jerry? Surely, he would be relieved to retire to a life eating Fruity Pebbles straight of the box.

Jones: Because I wanna see the fat man sweat a little, Jason. A little more than usual, I should say. That boy sweats more than a Coke bottle in 100 degree heat! Get your shit in line, Philips. AND START FUCKIN’ WINNIN’ GAMES FOR THE DOUBLE-J!!!

Wade: I gotta quit.

Jones: YEEHAW!!! WOO HOO!!!! GOD DAMMIT AM I AM FUCKIN CRAZY!!!!

Special thanks to Dan V.