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Coach Ryan Gets an Unwelcome Visitor


Aten
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Mark Sanchez: Who we got this week, Thomas? The Chargers?

Thomas Jones: Yup.

Sanchez: Oh, man. They’ve won twelve in a row. They’re no joke.

Jones: Nope.

Sanchez: But I feel good, man. I know a lot of people doubted me, but I helped the team on Saturday. Just gotta keep at it.

Jones: Yup.

Sanchez: Where’s Coach Ryan?

Jones: I dunno, but my water glass is shakin’, so he can’t be far.

Sanchez: Oh man, here he comes.

(door flies open)

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Ryan: HOW THE **** YOU DOIN’, BOYS?

Sanchez: Good, coach.

Ryan: Let me tell you something, men. I feel ****ing GREAT. Look out that window. PERFECT ****ING DAY FOR GETTING READY TO KILLLLLLLLLLLL!

Sanchez: Yes, sir.

Ryan: You know what I did this morning, Paunch? There was this raccoon going through our garbage. Big raccoon. Bigger than Dustin Keller. So I said to the raccoon, “Raccoon, you’d best clear the **** out. THAT’S A REX RYAN GARBAGE CAN, AND YOU DON’T WANT TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU **** WITH A REX RYAN GARBAGE CAN.” Well, that raccoon stayed right there, not budging an inch. And you know what I did next? I shot him. With a shotgun. BLEW HIS ****ING HEAD CLEAR OFF! He won’t be going through my old T-bones any time soon!

Sanchez: Yes. sir.

Ryan: Can you feel my intensity, Paunch! GOD DAMN, WE ARE ****ING DEEP IN THESE PLAYOFFS LIKE A CHEERLEADER’S SNATCH! You see how I’m ready to killllllllll at all times?

Sanchez: I am, sir.

Ryan: You had a helluva ****ing game last week, Paunch. I bet you got yourself a ****LOAD of teenage ***** after that game, didn’t you? Didn’t you, boy?

Sanchez: Well, I…

rex2.jpg

Ryan: Oh! Oh! Ol’ Paunch here punched himself into some teen tang! THAT’S GREAT HUSTLE!

(slaps Sanchez on the ass, hard)

Sanchez: Ouch!

Ryan: Paunch, from now on, your new name The Matador. CAUSE YOU TAMED THE *****BULL!

Sanchez: Yes, sir.

Ryan: And Braylon Edwards, your new nickname is Roy Williams! BECAUSE YOU ****ING SUCK! Now, men. MEN. We have a big game on Sunday. BIG ****ING GAME. We’re going to San Diego and we ain’t going to surf and cruise for tuna tacos. We are going there to ****ing killlllll, and I brought someone in today to help get that message across to you.

(door flies open)

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Buddy Ryan: HOW THE **** YOU BOYS DOIN’?

Ryan: They’re doin’ ****ing GREAT, Dad. They’ve got their eyes open and their ****s up.

Buddy Ryan: Good, good. Now, I wanna tell you boys somethin’. Bring it in.

(everyone brings it in)

Buddy Ryan: Back in my day, there wasn’t no spread offenses or any of that chuck and duck ****. You read me? Football wasn’t some queerass throwing game. Football was ****ing WAR. You take on your man, you beat him, and you stomp on his bloody ****ing corpse. That’s the football I was raised on, and that’s the kind of football I want you to play on Sunday.

Sanchez: Yes, sir.

Buddy Ryan: I tell you to talk, boy? Son, who the **** is that?

Ryan: That’s The Matador. He’s our QB.

Buddy Ryan: Quarterback? Yeah, he looks like a QB. Lock him in the icebox, will ya?

Ryan: That’s not legal anymore, Pop.

Buddy Ryan: Goddamn government fairies.

Ryan: Matador’s okay. HE’S A ****ING KILLER! AREN’T YOU, MATADOR?!

Sanchez: Very much so.

Buddy Ryan: That boy is from Cali. I can smell the gay on his skin. Probably ain’t even killed a daisy. Now, I wanna teach you boys about how to properly gouge an eye. You listening? When you take one of those ****er’s eyes out, you do it WHEN THE OTHER MAN HAS LOWERED HIS HEAD. That way, you can get under there, and the refs can’t see it. Next order of business: breaking fingers. Always go for the pinky. If you’re lucky, the o-lineman across from you was too dumb to tape his pinky to his ring finger. You ****ing pull that **** until you hear the pop. That way, you know you got him. You made your bounties yet? In Oklahoma, we don’t take the field without making our goddamn bounties.

Ryan: We sure have, Dad. Surf and Turf dinner to the first man to take a testicle away from that ******* Philip Rivers.

Buddy Ryan: Oh, good! I don’t like that boy. QB. Red ass. You take that ****er out, other team don’t stand a chance.

(door flies open)

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Marmalard: YAAAAA BETTTAAA NOT PUT A BOUNTY ON SOMEBODAYYYYYYYYY!

Ryan: How’d you get in here?

Marmalard: AHAHAHAHA! I could storm Hannibal’s Army thru any door your fat ass can walk through, ****WALLET!

Buddy Ryan: You’d best scram there, boy. Before you get hurt.

Marmalard: OOOH, I’M SO SCARED. “Loogit me, I’m Buddy Ryan and I punched Kevin Gilbride! THEN I GO HOME AND **** MY CATTLE!” You Ryans don’t scare KING LASERFACE! He is here to repel your bounties with the protection of the Almighty’s force field, granted to him through years and years of floaty abstinence! I’VE TURNED DOWN ***** THAT WOULD MAKE YOUR DICK POKE OUT OF ITS FATTY MOUSECAVE, ASS****!

Ryan: You keep talkin’, Rivers. These boys here hear every word you’re saying.

Marmalard: You’ll never get me to stop talking! You Ryans think you have a patent on talking big ****. LOOGIT US! WE’RE THE SUPER BOWL FAVORITES! WE’RE SO FEARSOME! Well, guess what, ****shelf? YOU CAN’T COACH TALL. I HAVE MALCOLM FLOYD AND HE’S 6’23” AND HE WILL SLAP YOU ON THE TOP OF HIS HEAD WITH HIS MASSIVE BLACK ****LARIAT. ****ING BELIEVE IT! I’m taking a ferry to Revis Island, and I’m going to tame every Godless savage on it! Soon, they will be swathed in the long underwear of our Lord! I’LL SEE YOUR ASS ON SUNDAY! THE DAY OF OUR MARMALARD!

(door shuts)

Buddy Ryan: He don’t scare me.

Ryan: ARE YOU MEN GONNA TAKE THAT *******’S **** LYING DOWN?

Everyone: No!

Ryan: Bring it in tighter, men.

(everyone brings it in tighter)

Ryan: Men, no one is picking us to win on Sunday. They think we’re happy just to have won one game. They think we’ve had our fun, and now it’s time to lay down and ****ing die. They think the Chargers are taller, and faster and stronger than you. But there’s one thing those ****ers aren’t counting on: HATE. Men, this is a game of hate. You have to hate that man across from you. You have to want to ****ing murder him. Because he’s the scum of the ****ing Earth who deserved it. You need that hate to sit inside you. Seethe. Fester. Make you do ugly, horrible things you didn’t think you were capable of doing. You have to want to kill the man across from you. You have to shed your civilized urges and think only of evil, terrible things. BLOOD. GUTS. WAR. You have to become heartless psychopaths. ARE YOU ****ING READY TO BECOME PSYCHOPATHS?!

Everyone: Yes!

Ryan: I am ****ing psychopathic right now, men. If that ****ing Marmalard walks in here again, I will ****ing sit on his head until it squashes like a grape. I WILL SHOOT HIM LIKE A VARMINT GOING THROUGH MY GARBAGE. Then I’ll dance on his ****ing skull. And that’s what I want out of you. I want DEATH. I want MAIMING. You men are ****ing WINNERS. You are ****ing MURDERERS. YOU ARE THE ****ING PARTY OF WAR AND THOSE WHO SEE YOU COMING KNOW THERE IS NO LONGER NEITHER TIME NOR HOPE. I want you to ATTACK. To INFLICT. To HURT. I want you to ****ing killllllllll!!! Are you ****ing ready to kill?!

Everyone: Yes!

Ryan: Are we gonna ****ing win!

Everyone: Yes!

Ryan: And are we all gonna go out for tacos and dog sex afterwards?

Everyone: Yes!

Ryan: ****ING KILL ON THREE! ONE TWO THREE!

Everyone: KILLLLLLLLL!

Ryan: ****! I need fresh boxers! Got the swampass again!

Sanchez: We are so winning on Sunday.

Edited by Aten
http://kissingsuzykolber.uproxx.com/2010/01/coach-ryan-gets-an-unwelcome-visitor.html
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Who among us didn't immediately think this thread was going to be about Michelle Ryan's aunt Flo being here for an extended weekend?

Surely you jest. Anybody who reads KSK has known this was coming since about halfway through the first quarter of the Ravens game on Sunday.

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Surely you jest. Anybody who reads KSK has known this was coming since about halfway through the first quarter of the Ravens game on Sunday.

I was patiently waiting for the Marmalard King Laserface/Coach Ryan post. But throwing in Buddy was the cherry on top for me.

I can smell the gay on his skin.

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