GETTING REAL SICK OF YOUR SHIT, WELKER!
Who is this? Why are you texting me?
Don’t play dumb with me, Dropsy. IT’S PEYTON.
I’m sorry. I’m just… I’m having trouble remembering things since my… my…
Concussion?
No thank you. I already have one.
THIS IS WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT!
First you go and get your damn fool head banged up with yet another one of the 40 or 50 concussions you’ve had in your career.
THEN YOU GET YOURSELF SUSPENDED FOR SMOKING MAGGIES?
“Mollies,” not “Maggies.”
And you don’t smoke it. It comes in capsule or powder form. You mix it in drinks, or just swallow a pill.
WELL EXCUSE ME FOR NOT BEING UP ON ALL YOUR LATEST DRUG LINGO, CHEECH.
Who is this? Why are you texting me?
I told you it’s Peyton.
Peyton’s not here.
SHUT UP. WHY AM I BUSTING MY ASS TRYING TO WIN A SUPER BOWL, WHILE MY HIPPIE TEAMMATES KEEP STUMBLING AROUND IN DRUG-INDUCED STUPORS?
Last year, Von Miller failed a piss test and missed the first month of the season.
Then last week, our idiot kicker got all liquored up, and now HE’S suspended for four games.
AND TODAY I FIND OUT THAT YOU’RE OUT FOR A MONTH BECAUSE YOU HAD TO GO AND SNORT MORRIES AT ONE OF YOUR DRUG RAVES?
“Mollies,” not “morries.”
I DON’T CARE IF YOU CALL THEM “LIL’ ORGASMIC OMAHAS,” YOU STILL HAVE TO MISS OUR FIRST FOUR GAMES NOW!
Who is this? Why are you texting me?
Shut up. Do you have any idea what this is going to do to my stats?
I MIGHT ONLY THROW A MEASLY 45 TOUCHDOWNS THIS YEAR INSTEAD OF MY USUAL 50.
IT WASN’T ENOUGH THAT YOU KEEP DROPPING BALLS ALL YEAR? NOW YOU HAVE TO GO TRIPPING BALLS AS WELL?
Look it wasn’t my fault. I was at the Kentucky Derby when it happened, and I’m pretty sure that somebody spiked my drink.
See, you can tell in this photo that I look a little discombulated.
…
Wes?
Yes?
Is … is that Tom Brady standing next to you?
Um. Yes?
WHY THE FUCK IS TOM BRADY STANDING NEXT TO YOU AT THE KENTUCKY DERBY?
Well, he’s a horse racing fan like me, so we hung out and…
TOM BRADY ROOFIED YOU, YOU STUPID ASSHOLE.
No, no. Tom Brady and I are friends. He would never…
IT ALL MAKES SENSE NOW. HE’S ALWAYS BEEN JEALOUS OF ME AND MY VASTLY SUPERIOR QUARTERBACK SKILLS.
SO HE’S CORRUPTING ALL MY MORON TEAMMATES WITH ALCOHOL AND DRUGS.
You’re being too hard on him. He actually treats us Broncos players really nicely.
Last year, for example, he gave Von Miller a big plate of brownies to wish him luck before his drug test.
And during training camp last month, he took Matt Prater out for mimosas.
THAT BUTT-CHINNED CUMSTAIN IS TRYING TO DERAIL MY SEASON BEFORE IT EVEN STARTS!
Who is this? Why are you texting me?
SHUT UP. Here’s what we’re going to do:
You’re going to use your suspension time to hang out around Patriots headquarters.
Just before each game, I want you to slip a dozen boxes of dissolving laxatives into each one of their Gatorade jugs.
LET’S SEE BRADY MAKE THE PLAYOFFS THIS YEAR WHILE HE’S SHITTING HIS PANTS DURING EVERY FOURTH QUARTER.
Look, I have to go. My head hurts.
Tom sent me a little beaker-shaped inhaler, and some ground up aspirin. He said it would help with my concussion.
THAT’S A CRACK PIPE, YOU NITWIT.
Who is this? Why are you texting me?
Goddammit. We should’ve traded you for the horse.
