I Have a Plan
God Damn mouth-breather.
It’s really real. The New York Giants are 5-3. Officially worse than the fate I predicted for them (finishing 12-4). I’m attributing much of the blame to our $106 million dollar drooling and snarling retard quarterback Eli Manning. I decided there is no way to motivate him to do well at this point. As with most of New York’s athletes, they fall off after the pay day. That’s why I usually go straight to what they care about for motivation, their family. No I’m not talking about getting someone to give them a word of encouragement and no, I’m not talking about Archie or Peyton. Not even the hapless loser, Cooper. By the way, I’m 90% that all 4 of their stupid names would be good names for an Irish Setter.
What I’m talking about is going straight after his heart. Right at his wife, Abby… Not only would she look hot handNote to my employers. If you set this place up for failure and disenfranchisement. It’s probably going to happencuffed to my radiator, made into a carpet like a bear, with jizz in her hair like Something About Mary* but I’d actually be a step up from her current situation. At least you know I can’t underachieve! Plus, I haven’t worn pants in weeks. Easy access, ladies.
See?
However, I digress. My plan is to become a ruthless super-villain. Soon people will love and fear me. Or fear how much the love me. Either way, it sounds perfect. My first act as a super-villain? Tie Abby Manning to the railroad tracks until Eli Manning plays up to his $106 million dollar contract or I’m stopped by a Canadian Mountie who can’t do wrong. My name? Snidely Whiplogic.
RAWR! Curses! Foiled Again!
The End
*Really? That’s what I settled on?
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