Well, well. WHO takes a cheap shot at my coach's boy. I ask for an apology. What do those ratdicked assweasels do? Stand by their beliefs. Well, that's just interesting, because I'm standing by "Barta's Buddies." They're hundreds of brown recluse spiders and they've been treated with a chemical that sends them into a blind rage. I don't know what the hell the chemical is, just that Brent Metcalf sweats it. Anyway, whenever I happen to be commiserating with them, I have a four-step plan for success. Wanna hear? I don't give a shit if you want to hear.
Step 1: Wait until the poor bastard who crossed me gets into his car. The car's going to have a sunroof, because I'm not dumb enough to get in fights with poor people.
Step 2: Get two of my interns to block him in by crashing into the sides of his car. Sure, this isn't safe at all for them, but here's the thing about Iowa--there are like tens of thousands of people I can force to be my intern.
Step 3: Break open the sunroof and treat Barta's Buddies to a nice meal.
Step 4: Smile, smile, smile.
And then it's back to being a good day.
I don't much care for going through all that trouble, though; all these bastards have to do is recognize that it's hands off my coaches' families. For everyone but me, that is.
But I look out for my athletes. I put them in position to win. You know how I do that? A's For Dunks. Yep, every time one of our guys throws one down, one class grade gets changed to an A, usually against their teachers' will. They get double that if they swing their nuts into someone's eye.
Of course, basketball fans might have noticed that doesn't happen very often. So I'm off to reconcile that very problem. I don't feel like bringing Barta's buddy for this, though; it's best if Senator Sock-Full-Of-Quarters does the negotiating today. He's a little more reasonable.