Farewell, My Creation!

A sequel to this particular post. Scene: the dank, dark underground lab below an athletic facility in Foxborough. Doctor Hobo sits, facing his greatest creation as it lies on the table, for an uncomfortable decision.

Dr. Hobo: Such magnificence. I only wish I could have made more like you.
Troy Brown: Thank you, Doctor.
Dr. Hobo: How do you feel now, Troy? Is everything in working order?
Troy Brown: Yes, Doctor. (Sits up.) I am not sure whether I will be ready in time to help you wreak your revenge upon all who opposed you, but I will do my damnedest to see to it.
Dr. Hobo: Yes….about that. (Hesitates.) Troy, I have appreciated your loyal service: you are the final holdover from the years of the laid-back ninny and the short tenure of my mentor, the Gut. They bequeathed me you, whom I remade in my ultimate image, the player I wanted to see the most of.
Troy Brown: Yes, and I thank you daily for it, Doctor. I barely remember a time when we did not win.
Dr. Hobo: But, this is now where we must part. You must become a person outside of my grasp. There are things approaching over the horizon that I do not wish for you to be privy to or a part of.
Troy Brown: But, Doctor…Asante, Donte, and Randall have deserted you! Certainly there is room for me somewhere in this place, is there not?
Dr. Hobo: Ordinarily, there would be, but if I am to achieve perfection — finally, after having it snatched from my grasp by the Drill Sergeant, the gap-toothed one, and the bumbling Legacy Lackey in such cruel fashion — I have learned that I must completely sever all emotional connection. And you, Troy, are that last emotional connection, the one I have poured all my work into. It is time we grew apart. For both our sakes.
Troy Brown: (Looks down at the ground.) I cannot believe it. What will I do? How will I survive in the world of normal players?
Dr. Hobo: Use what I have taught you, if you still have another year in you — and you will thrive among the less dedicated. (Sniffles, holds back tears.) I cannot bear to look at you any longer. Wesley! Thomas!

(Tom Brady and Wes Welker appear behind Troy.)

Tom Brady: Your bidding, Doctor?
Dr. Hobo: Please, get Troy’s things. There is a car waiting above.
Tom Brady: They are already in the car, sir.
Wes Welker: I will drive him out.
Troy Brown: Doctor….NOOOOOO!

(Brady and Welker pick Troy up, begin to carry him out. Troy screams all the way to the door, the echoes drown out all the other sound in the facility.)

Dr. Hobo: He will have to fend for himself now. There was only so much I could do for him while managing my other….troubles. Fear me now, Goodell, and Specter, I will have my vengeance upon you.

MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA!!!!!

Fin.

Brown not likely to receive offer to return for 16th year [Boston Globe]

Advertisements

“My Creation, It Lives Again!”

It’s times like these where I wish I had any sort of skill with Photoshop or could farm it out (hint, hint to the reader base). Scene: The dank, dark depths of The Razor in Foxborough, where a crazed man, hunched over in his hooded sweatshirt and headband, without regard for the freezing temperatures, slaves in his workshop.

Doctor Hobo: Hmm, yes…so we have lost Roosevelt to a season-ending injury, with a linebacker corps exposed for being aged by that God-damned walrus and his trusty back-up quarterback. Adalius!
Adalius Thomas: Yes, Doctor?
Dr. Hobo: There is no need to panic, is there?
Adalius: No, Doctor. Vrabel is still intact, and Bruschi must simply soak for a week to restore his old bones. Junior appears to be a bit on the senior side this week, though.
Dr. Hobo: Good. You are young yet. I hope never to have to perform such miracles on you as I have had to do for those two. However, we must ensure the survival of our complete domination — the world demands it, I demand it, and we are capable of it!
Adalius: Yes, Doctor. How can we assist you in this endeavor?
Dr. Hobo: Revive the cyborg I had shut down in the corner twice this season. Get Richard to help you lift him out of the basement. (Resumes tinkering with soldering connections and large lithium battery.)
Adalius: Right away, sir. Seymour!

(Grabs lumbering Richard Seymour and heads to the metal storage units in the back of the basement. Richard Seymour skulks along to the back, where they retrieve a case marked “Chad Brown” and bring it to the Hobo.)

Continue reading