Thank You, Thank You Very Much
“How’d I get in here?”
I truly have no idea.
“Eh, fuck it.”
Congratulations, man. Great game.
“Yeah, great game. I get to play another week. Yay.”
“Y’ever hear of phantom limb syndrome? Where amputees can still feel their missing hands or whatever and they hurt?”
“I got the opposite: it feels like I have extra limbs, and they hurt. Like, five or six arms and all of them are broken.”
“Course, that’s the parts I can actually still feel. 60% of my body is completely numb. Here, take this screwdriver and stick it in my foot.”
“Not a thing.”
Huh. You should see a doctor about that.
“Dude, I’m Peyton fucking Manning: I’ve seen the best doctors on the planet.”
And what do they say?
“That it’s a terrible idea to let giant men tackle you violently for three decades.”
“Then they fill my briefcase with opiates and I go watch some film.”
Careful with those opiate-filled briefcases. I know a guy that didn’t work out so well for.
“I’ll be fine, junior. I win this next one, I can probably stab my wife and a waiter and go free.”
And then you’ll have two rings, too.
Like Eli already does.
Your little brother? Eli? Plays for the Giants, kind of a doofus, won the Super Bowl twice?
Did I say something?