(Editor’s Note: This article has been checked for content and truthiness. It has neither. If we had a section called Fan Droppings, we would have put it there. The only truth in the article is the Great Seattle Buggering of 2013……….and the surfing goats.)
"Doctor! Come quick! One of the coma patients is awake!"
"Huh? Wha? Where am I?"
"Mr. Ship, I’m Dr. Dewless. You’ve been in a coma for nearly a week. You’re very lucky, we don’t see many patients in a coma that long wake up."
"What happened to me? The last thing I remember is watching the Saints get butt-f***ed in Seattle, then just a bunch of weird dreams."
"Mr. Ship, normally sports fans just watch their teams win or lose and then drink a lot regardless, but in about 0.01% of the cases, extreme game results cause medical issues. Fans whose teams win become euphoric and giddy, and we can fix that by showing them a bogus letter from the IRS telling them they’re about to be audited. But for fans whose team got beat, there are sometimes severe medical consequences. When a team is getting beat badly, most fans turn the TV off by half-time, and we can just treat them for the Clap and send them on their way. But in your case, you watched the Saint’s getting butt-f***ed all the way to the end. The result is that you contracted Cancer of the Ass, and went into a coma. We have quite a few patients on this floor of the hospital with the same malady."
"Have the others woken up?"
"No, Mr. Ship, you’re the only one so far. We think a lazy janitor actually saved you by sneaking off into your room and listening to last night’s Saints game against some team in the Carolinas. We’re not real sure what else he did in your room. Quite lucky, actually, as we hear that the Saint’s QB is too old, soft, and short to get his arm up. We’re trying to get tapes of another Saint’s win to try on our other patients. Apparently they’re only available in Atlanta."
"Doc, I don’t see how this could happen. We were assured by Dr. BO Dawg on the Saints sports blog that the Saints were a good team, and this kind of brutal rape couldn’t happen."
"You mean Dr. Bewarus duCanine, the Rec Whore? We’ve got him in a bed about three rooms down. His woman found him sitting on the floor in front of the TV with a 5-gallon container of ice-cream in one arm and a TV Controller with Replay going continuously. It’s strange, the container was labeled Pralines-n-Cream, but it was filled with Rocky Road. Kind of a cosmic warning that he didn’t heed."
"That is strange. I know he works at an Ice Cream Parlor, so he should certainly know the difference. And he knows the Saints as well as anyone on the web site."
"Mr. Ship, you should know better than to trust anyone on a sports website. Most of them are run by Italians selling T-shirts and pyramid writing schemes."
"Don’t I know that. I saw an ad on an article a couple of days before the Seattle Fudge-Packing that showed a picture of a pretty girl with great boobs, advertising 6 free ones with the purchase of three. I checked it out, because I was really intrigued about buying 3 boobs, but it turns out it was only a T-shirt ad, and the chick wasn’t even wearing a real T-shirt. But then again, maybe the boobs weren’t real either. Doc, I’m real worried, I have a lot of friends on that site that I would really miss."
"Well, they aren’t all in comas. There’s one the cops picked up in a men’s room on the freeway, threatening to put someone named Alejandro on a list, and there’s another dancing around a voodoo doll yelling something like "Saban to Texas! Saban to Texas!" Does that mean anything to you?"
"I think it means he’s getting ready to kill his wife. Doc, I had some really strange dreams. For instance, I dreamed that four GOATs visited my lawn on Black Friday."
"You've got to realize we've been giving you some serious chemotherapy. Cancer of the Ass isn't a joke to us. Do you mean like the Greatest of All Time, or the 4-Horsemen of the Apocalypse? Here at the hospital, we like Pestilence the best."
"No, nothing like that. More like The Great Pumpkin landing in the most deserving pumpkin patch, only in this case it’s the lawn that hasn’t been mowed for the longest time. There just happened to be 4 of them."
"Oh, you mean like ---magic goats--- ?" [Nurse, find out what meds we had this guy on—we may have discovered a new hallucinogen!]
"No, you asshole. My hearing’s just fine. But they were special goats—they were surfing goats that travel between Pismo Beach and San Diego. Just because I live in California doesn’t mean I’m on drugs all the time [yet]. Why don’t you go butt-f*** yourself, since you’re such a prick."