Goddamn I Love A Good Cockfight

Get your minds out of the gutter. For one, what you're thinking of is a swordfight. For two, I'm talking about the Sport of Kings. No, not that one. The other Sport of Kings. The one that involves two roosters tearing themselves to shreds for the amusement of drunken, howling bettors. Right, that one.

So anyhow, it was a good night. Every cock I bet on won. What's more, I spent the winnings on the ugliest Mexican whore I could find, then gave her a savage beating in a roach-infested motel strategically located behind an abortion clinic. What can I say? I was on a bad side of town. People live like animals over there, and they deserve what they get.

Alright, I gotta split -- I shit my pants on the drive home, and need to wake the houseboy and tell him to go scrub down the Hummer's interior before feces soaks into the fine Corinthian leather seats. Then it's straight to bed for me. I would take a shower first, but I'm beat, and what do I care if my sheets get shitty? It's not like I'm the one who has to wash them, right?

Just Bag My Groceries, Moron

"Paper or plastic, sir?"

I did a double-take when the bagboy said this... because he was former Miami Dolphins "head coach" Dave Wannstedt!

"Dave Wannstedt?" I said. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm, uh, working," he said, sheepishly. "Uh, paper or plastic?"

"Plastic," I said. "But seriously. Why are you here? I thought you were 'coaching' at the Pitt?"

"Uh, yeah, I was. But they, uh, they fired me."

"When?"

"Yesterday."

"Why?"

"Uh, they read about how current Dolphins Head Coach Nick Saban got the world's most monstrous, terrifying, explosive quarterback, Daunte Culpepper, for a second round draft pick."

"What? Why would a college fire you because an NFL head coach was able to get a franchise QB for a song?"

"Because, uh, when I was 'head coach' of the Dolphins, I used a second round draft pick to get, uh, A.J. Feeley. Who was a, uh, second- or third-string QB for Philly at the time. And, uh, hadn't even played a full season."

"Eww. Ur... wow."

"Yeah. So the Dean pulled me into his office and fired me, saying he didn't want an idiot as big as me anywhere near his school."

"Well, I can certainly understand that," I said, laughing. But as it turned out, the laugh was on me; Wannstedt was just as bad at bagging groceries as he was at coaching football, leaving me with squished bread, broken eggs and food that tasted like bleach and chemicals.

What a tool.