Graham Harrell to see you, Coach Leach.
Coach! - Graham Harrell: your QB, Heisman contender, school record holder and -
Gotta keep it brief. I've got an appointment at 4:00.
Yes. With Graham Harrell.
Should I send him in, Coach?
It's Julie Ann! I've been your admin for seven years.
It's Julie Ann, Coach.
OK, send her in with Graham as well. We'll kill two birds...uhhh...with the...rock.
Hey, Cooooach! What's up?
Whatcha workin' on there? Pirate stuff?
How did they get this magnificent privateer frigate into this bottle? It's a physical impossibility.
I don't know. Maybe it's really small when they put it in and then it inflates...THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID!
That's a joke, Coach. When someone says something that could be about like, sex or sexy things, then you say THAT's WHAT SHE SAID!
Uh, yeah...no...I get it. Ahhmmmm. Ahhh. It's just that...why would...any lady want...I dunno...a pirate ship...in her? That's outrageous Graham. And I'm from Wyoming. The crow's nest alone would create issues for the cervix that -
No, not the ship specifically. I take it to mean it's like someone's big johnson or something. A general johnson. And the girl is all, "That feels real nice! Thank you!"
Did you attempt to penetrate Penelope with a Viking longship, Graham? Level with me. The oars alone would...
I have not. Who is Penelope?!
She was in the lobby with you. (fixated on the ship in the bottle again)
I don't see....any sort of....apparatus. For intake of air type matter there. So couldn't inflate it.
- Maybe it's an infant type situation where they put it in as a baby and then they feed it jelly beans to make it grow?
So you did ask me in, Coach!
Wednesday afternoon is always buccaneer arts and crafts. So did I?
Fine. Graham, the idea of our offense is real simple. If their guys run up close, we throw it behind them. If they back off, we throw it in front of them.
Word. I will do that.
Good. Time to go. See ya Harrell.
Wait - I just want to say something - Coach, we're going to mess up Texas.
Who is that now?
Why would you mess up Texas? No....ummmm......uhhh......state pride there Harrell.
Coach, the college football team.
We play them this Saturday! Black out. Tortillas. Molatov cocktails. Some dudes are going to dress Cavalier King Charles Spaniel puppies in Colt McCoy jerseys and throw them off of the top ramp. ESPN Gameday. This is bigger than when Lubbock got Olive Garden. I will drop the downwards Horns the first TD I throw. I will downwards Horns each one of my sixes and blow their minds with my display of bravado. I will thoroughly shocker their defense and mark their sideline pre-game with my urine while...
Uhh....yeah, no. I have an idea.
Give it to #6, Rain Man! I love new plays.
What if the ship is actually very tiny but the bottle is....like a magnifying glass....so it just creates the illusion of size? Uhhh....I imagine that you could....uhh....make it work like that. Funhouse mirror. Harry Caray's spectacles...uhhhh.
Graham, I'm going to look at it from this angle, but I want you to peek through the opening of the bottle and then tell me the size of the mighty galleon. From two perspectives. Like a second opinion deal. We'll make it sort of a science hypothesis thing. If it's actually small we will....uhhmmmm....take it out with tweezers and grape jelly.
I have no response to that.
OK, what do you see?
Coach, I'm sad to say it's the same size from any angle.
THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID!
I see what you did there.
Good. Now begone. I grow weary of this ruse. I must finish my submission for the Fields Medal in mathematics and redouble my irradiation experiments on musk oxen to synthesize a new bovine evolutionary model. If further distracted by your tomfoolery I'll end up creating another Brandon Carter. Thank God those experiments left him sterile. After, I shall play WarCraft with Steve Hawking.
Coach, the game!
A tertiary consideration. You're a senior, it's time you knew. I'm here guised as an eccentric football coach to perform the real work required to save humanity from itself and to avoid assassination at the hands of The Trilateral Commission. My time is best spent on matters of consequence. Enough jackanapery. Leave my domain lest I release a stinging cloud of nanotechnology to bore into your flawless pores and attack your pituitary gland as I did once to Eric Morris when he was 12. Now the stunted gnome clings to me like an infant bonobo and demands I incorporate him into my offense as recompense. He suckles at my teat like Bobby Knight on a soda fountain of vindictiveness. Now, shoo. Off to your gridiron bread and circuses while I save - nay - create a Brave New World!
I got no clue what you just said, but you just got #6 real fired up! Guns Up!