The Favreover, Final Act. Finito. Done.  Over.

It's crunch time.  Favre is being held at Brock Lesnar's house against his will, the opening kickoff is getting closer, and our gang of heroes still need to make it to New Orleans for kickoff.  Can they do it?

CUT TO THE DODGE PICKUP, DRIVING DOWN THE ROAD, HEADING TOWARDS LESNAR’S HOUSE. 

HUTCH:  Hey guys, when’s the next Halley’s Comet?

AP:  Who cares man?  I still have this damn football taped to my hand.  It’s damn near impossible to drive.  And we don’t have his holocaust ring!  You should be caring about that!!

BEVELL:  I don’t think it’s for another…60 years, big guy.

HUTCH:  But it’s not tonight, right?  I mean, with the game in the Superdome, I don’t want to miss it, that’s all.  (As Hutch talks, the tiger awakens and begins to thrash about wildly.  As they try to avoid the tiger, the truck weaves in and out of lanes, hitting several cars, getting all banged up.  They manage to leave the vehicle unharmed, and Hutch punches the tiger in the face, knocking him out and knocking out a tooth.  Okay, I think this is under control.  Don’t worry about the ring.  Let’s get to Lesnar’s.  Bev, you two look alike.  Hahahahahaha!!!! Classic!!

AP:  Man, our luck is finally changing for the better.  We’ve got the tiger, we’ll figure it out about the ring, and we’re going to get Brett back.  WE ARE BACK, BABY!!  We should come back to Biloxi next week!

BEVELL:  Let’s focus on getting Brett back and getting to New Orleans.  The game is in six hours.

HUTCH:  I’ll come back next week.  Oh, wait.  The Jonas Brothers are in town next week.  But any week after that, I’m good.  And you know what?  We’re the three best friends that anyonecouldeverhave, the three best friends that anyonecouldeverhave.   We’re the three best friends that anyonecouldeverhave, and we’re going to get Brett back and we’re going to win the Super Bowl!!

CUT TO BROCK LESNAR’S HOUSE, OUTSIDE, IN A MASSIVE YARD.  AP, HUTCH, AND DB ARE BY THE TRUCK, WITH THE TIGER IN THE CAB, STILL UNCONSCIOUS.  LESNAR APPEARS AT THE FRONT DOOR, WITH BRETT FAVRE.

AP:  All right, here’s the tiger. 

LESNAR:  Fair enough.  Now show me the ring.  Or I F-5 him, and then I F-5 all of you.  And then I take it!

AP:  Look, we don’t have the ring.  We didn’t steal it, so there’s no way we could—

LESNAR:  You’re all dead!! (Lesnar runs towards the Viking players, closing the gap fast.  From the truck stereo, some familiar music begins to play, which begins with the sound of glass breaking, and a mean guitar riff).

BEVELL (Or is it JR Ross?):  OH MY GAWD, THAT’S STONE COLD’S MUSIC!!

FROM THE BACK SIDE OF THE YARD, STONE COLD STEVE AUSTIN APPEARS, RUNS TO THE PASSENGER DOOR, RIPS IT OFF, AND THEN HITS LESNAR OVER THE HEAD WITH IT JUST AS HE GRABS AP’S FOOTBALL LADEN HAND, RIPPING THE TAPE LOOSE.

AP:  It’s about time that started to come loose.  Shit was KILLING me!!

THE TRUCK DOOR OVER THE HEAD STUNS LESNAR, AND AUSTIN GRABS HIM AND ADMISISTERS A STONE COLD STUNNER, KNOCKING OUT LESNAR.  AUSTIN GRABS TWO BEERS OUT OF THE BED OF THE TRUCK, OPENS THEM AND STANDS ON THE FRONT BUMPER, FLIPPING OFF NO ONE, YET EVERYONE AT THE SAME TIME.

BEVELL:  That was freakin’ awesome!!

AUSTIN:  Looks like I put my roody-poo foot up his roody-poo ass!

AP LOOKS AT HIS WATCH, AND REALIZES THEY PROBABLY DON’T HAVE ENOUGH TIME TO MAKE IT TO NEW ORLEANS, AND MAKES THE CALL FROM THE OPENING SCENE.  AS HE HANGS UP THE PHONE, FAVRE WALKS UP.

FAVRE:  AP, we’ll make it on time.  You gotta drive though.  You’re the only one who regularly drives at over 100 mph.

AP:  But we still got get to the stadium, get changed into our uniforms, we don’t have time.

FAVRE:  Look, I am the King of last minute stuff.  Let me make a few calls, just finish pulling off that damn football and let’s get on the road.

AUSTIN (Walking up to the group of Vikings):   Let me tell you guys what's gonna happen.

FAVRE, AP, HUTCH, BEVELL:  WHAT?!

In about five hours, I'm going to turn on the TV for the 2010 NFL season premiere...

FAVRE, AP, HUTCH, BEVELL:  WHAT?!

and Al Michaels is going to say here lies the New Orleans Saints, the biggest fluke of a team that ever walked the face of the earth...

FAVRE, AP, HUTCH, BEVELL:  WHAT?!

And the reason they’re laying here...

FAVRE, AP, HUTCH, BEVELL:  WHAT?!

 is because Vikings 3:16 says you just whipped their gold and black ass!! 

FAVRE, AP, HUTCH, BEVELL:  WHAT?!

And that's the bottom line because Stone Cold said so!  Gimme a HELL YEAH!

EVERYONE:  HELL YEAH!

AP:  Everyone get in, we got some driving to do. (AP rips off the football, and the holocaust ring is on his finger.  Everyone does a cheesy, 1970's-era end of the show group laugh  Favre is on the cell phone, talking to someone).

CUT TO DODGE PICKUP BARRELING DOWN THE HIGHWAY, 120 MPH.  MISSISSIPPI STATE PATROL HAS AN ESCORT CAR IN FRONT AND BACK, AND A MINNESOTA VIKINGS TRAINER VAN PULLS UP ALONGSIDE.  THE DOOR SLIDES OPEN, AND IN THE DOORWAY IS FRED ZAMBERLETTI, THE LONGTIME EQUIPMENT MANAGER FOR THE MINNESOTA VIKINGS.

FAVRE:  Fred!  I knew you wouldn’t let us down!

ZAMBERLETTI(Grabbing a package in brown wrapping paper):  No worries!  Here, catch!!

ZAMBERLETTI THROWS THREE PACKAGES INTO THE MOVING CAR.  INSIDE THE PACKAGES ARE THE UNIFORMS, PADS, SHOES, AND HELMETS.  FAVRE, AP, AND HUTCH BEGIN CHANGING.  BEVELL’S PACKAGE HAS A HEADSET, A BASEBALL HAT…AND THE COVETED LAMINATED GAME PLAN WITH A NOTE FROM CHILLY THAT READS:  IF YOU MAKE IT BACK IN TIME, YOU’RE CALLING THE PLAYS.  GOOD JOB, CHILLY.

CUT TO THE OUTSIDE OF THE LOUISIANA SUPERDOME, 10 MINUTES BEFORE GAME TIME.  DODGE PULLS UP, SCREECHING TO A HALT AS THE FRONT BUMPER FALLS OFF.  AT THE ENTRANCE IS TEAM OWNER ZYGI WILF.

WILF:  Boys!  You made it!

FAVRE:  Was there ever any doubt I’d play?  I mean, I thought I was pretty clear all along.  Can I have a two year extension?  I could play until I'm 50.  This is fun!!

WILF:  Sure, no problem.  This really hasn't been the distraction that everyone thought it would. 

And so, our saga ends.  The Vikings went on to win the game 56-3.  Adrian Peterson ran for 200 yards, three TD’s…and no fumbles.  Brett Favre threw for three TD’s, threw no picks, and was named the game MVP.  Ironically, it was the night Halley’s comet made an unexpected orbit, and when Steve Hutchinson found out he missed it, he took it out on the entire New Orleans defense. 

And Darrell Bevell called the game of his career.

The Beginning…