The Favreover, Act III

As our Merry Band of Heroes try and piece together what happened the night before, they stumble across a clue, and head to the satellite clinic of renowned sports doctor Dr. James Andrews.  While there, they get another clue as to the whereabouts of the missing Brett Favre, erstwhile quarterback, part super hero, and one of the five most indecisive people in the history of the world.  With game time approaching, our superstars...and offensive coordinator Darrell Bevell...must move fast if they are to find Brett and get to New Orleans in time for the game.

CUT TO DESTROYED HOTEL ROOM AT THE BEAU RIVAGE.  IN THE CENTER OF THE ROOM, AT A GRAND PIANO, IS FORMER VIKING TRAINING CAMP INVITEE BROCK LESNAR, THE PHIL COLLINS CLASSIC ‘IN THE AIR TONIGHT’ BLASTING IN THE BACKGROUND.  CUT TO OUTSIDE THE FRONT DOOR, AS AP, HUTCH, AND BEVELL PREPARE TO WALK IN.

Bevell:  Did we leave the radio on?

HUTCH:  Be careful, the tiger is still in here somewhere.

AP:  I keep forgetting about that goddamn tiger.  How did the tiger get in there? 

BEVELL:  I’d tell you, but I can’t remember anything. 

HUTCH:  It’s one of the side effects from the purple kool aid.

BEVELL:  You’re literally too stupid to insult right now.

AP (Walking in the door):  Did we leave the radio on?  Brock Lesnar?!

LESNAR:  Hey, everybody shut up.  This is my favorite part. 

Lesnar mimics the mean drum riff right before the final chorus, and begins singing along with the lyrics.  I can feel it coming in the air tonight…hold on…I been waitin for this moment, all my life..hold on…hold on.

As the drum solo begins again, Lesnar begins to air drum, moves towards Hutch, and throws a vicious right.  Hutchinson is apparently unfazed.

Hutch:  There’s a reason you MMA wussies can’t play in the NFL.  No arm strength.  I donkey punched your mom harder last night.  At least I think I did.  I can’t remember anything.  Hahahaha!!!  Classic!!  (Hutch immediately falls to the ground, unconscious).

AP:  Whoa whoa WHOA!!  That was COMPLETELY unnecessary!

LESNAR:  Really?  Then why the hell did you steal my tiger last night?

BEVELL (Who is becoming emotional, on the verge of tears):  Look, we were really drunk last night, we can’t remember anything, and we can’t find our starting quarterback, so if you want to go ahead and kill us now, go right ahead, because I don’t even care anymore.

LESNAR:  Now tell me why you’d steal my tiger or I stand Fat Jesus up and punch him again.

AP:  Look, we tend to do dumb shit when we’re drinking the kool aid.  Hey, how did you find us?

LESNAR (taking a Brett Favre Vikings jersey out of a Wal Mart bag):  I have who you’re looking for.

AP:  That was Brett’s!!

LESNAR:  You’re lucky he didn’t end up eaten like Chester Taylor.

BEVELL:  Eaten?  Oh, sweet Jesus…

LESNAR:  Look, don’t worry.  Chester’s in a better place.  If you were looking at a season playing for the Chicago Bears with Jay Cutler as your teammate behind that offensive line, or being eaten by a tiger, what would you choose?

BEVELL:  Good point.  Hey, this may seem like asking a lot, but can we follow yout back to your place and and pick him up? 

LESNAR:  Bring me the tiger in one hour, and you get Brett. 

BEVELL:  Wait a minute, you’re holding him...hostage?  Well, isn't that about as wrong as two boys kissin'... 

LESNAR:  Yeah, I have Brett.  We were gambling at the Beau Rivage last night, and we all went back to my place to drink some more.  We even invited Daunte Culpepper, but he was going out on a boat with some guys later.  One of you bastards stole my tiger, and my Grandmother’s holocaust ring.  It’s bad enough that the Vikings cut me after I left the WWF a few years ago, but stealing her ring was too much.  Your team has pissed me off for the last time.   

AP:  I didn’t know they gave out rings for the holocaust.  Is it bigger than a Super Bowl Ring?

LESNAR:  Bring me the ring, and the tiger, in one hour, at my house, and you get Brett.  If not, I give him an F-5 and I ruin the Vikings season, and then…HERE COME THE PAIN!!  (Lesnar storms out, while DB pees in his pants).

DB and AP move towards Hutch, who is beginning to stir.  He sits up, shakes his head, and looks around.

HUTCH:  Who peed themselves?

AP:  Bevell did.  Look, we gotta get that tiger back to Brock Lesnar’s house in an hour, or he’s He's gonna give Brett an F5.  He also thinks we stole some stupid ring or something, so we have to give that back along with the tiger.

HUTCH:  Okay, let me go knock out the tiger.  Give me a couple of minutes.

BEVELL:    You just got knocked out by Brock Lesnar, and you think you can take on a tiger?

HUTCH:  Sure.  I’ll just spike a raw steak with pain killers and pepper.

BEVELL:  Pepper?  Tigers don’t like pepper, you idiot.

HUTCH:  Tigers love pepper.  They hate cinnamon.

HUTCHINSON GOES TO THE REFRIGERATOR AND GRABS A RAW STEAK, PUTS SOME MISCELLANEOUS PILLS IN IT AND SPRINKLES IT WITH PEPPER.  HUTCH THROWS THE STEAK IN THE BATHROOM, AND YOU HEAR THE TIGER GROWL AS HE BEGINS TO EAT IT.

AP:  Well, what do we do now?

HUTCH:  We wait.  (Bevell moves over to the piano, and begins to sing while he plays a soft ballad)

BEVELL (SINGING):  What do tigers dream of, when they take a little tiger snooze?  Do they dream of mauling zebras or Halle Berry in her Catwoman suit?  Don’t you worry your pretty stripe-ed head, we’re gonna get you back to Lesnar and your cozy tiger bed.  Then we’re gonna find our quarterback Brett, and the folks in Min-ne-so-ta will no longer fret.  Brett, BRETT, Brett, Brett, Brett’ty Brett Brett…but if you’ve been murdered by crazy ass Packer fans…then we’re shit outta luck (sound of tiger falling over in the bathroom, knocked out cold).

Stay tuned for the exciting conclusion tomorrow!!

 

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