#anyway. how bout them packers

[vladdyissues]

I apologize for not answering this ask directly, anon, but I wanted to extend the courtesy that the person in the above link is denying us by not revealing their username.

But yeah, I've seen the list. Had a good laugh at it, then I reported it to Tumblr—and reported the linked files to Google. What this user is doing may not be direct harassment, but it's outing people and their blogs and collecting "evidence" in the form of links to content proving each accused's affiliation—which to me sounds like a violation of privacy; doxxing lite—and inviting others to participate in this same invasive, predatory behavior.

And no, typing out "btw DON'T harass these people!" at the top of the post does not absolve this person of their responsibility for hosting files and encouraging other users to partake in a literal witch hunt.

[q-gorgeous]

My brains being dumb and making me feel like my friends dont like me again so here i am coming to tumblr so i can write it out that actually they love me i literally know that

[vanchlo]

Under The Bed / Chapter Two, “Harry”

ABOUT: Josie Stephens was having a hard enough time at her mere age of five, having to start Kindergarten and move to a new house. Little did she know that it all would get a lot worse that first night when a monster popped out from under her bed, changing her life forever. Inspired by the 1989 movie, Little Monsters, one of my childhood favorites, I began this story in 2016 and recently fell back in love with it.

->   SERIES MASTERLIST

->   MAIN MASTERLIST

-> READ ON WATTPAD

WARNINGS: Mild swearing

WORD COUNT: 5.3k words

TAGLIST: IDK HOW TO DO THESE, BUT IF YOU WANNA BE ADDED SO YOU KNOW WHEN A NEW CHAPTER IS POSTED, JUST LET ME KNOW! :)

@berrynarrybanana​

@wotamelonsugar​

SNEAK PEEK OF COURSE ->

"I said, who are you?!"

"Calm down, ya big baby! I came from under yer bed an' I scared ya. Now, what does that big brain ol’ brain of yers tell ya I am?" he replies, and it takes a few seconds before the answer pops into my head.

THEN

It's not the easiest to remember, but when a monster just happens to pop out from under your bed one night, it's not something that you can forget.

The moving trucks were pulling away from the house. Finally. No longer was the front curb crowded by their orangeneness and height. At last, the few big guys walking in and out of the trucks holding all of our stuff were too. I didn't want to move, and I didn't like the new house. It smelled weird and the staircase was like a mountain that I had to climb every day with my short five year old legs. All of my toys were in boxes that were stacked in my room. Nothing but my new big girl bed, a lamp and Mr. Snuggles, the stuffed duck, took up my scary big room that was all mine. But, boy, were there boxes. There were ones labeled in Mom's scribble, 'Josie's clothes,' and ‘Josie's toys' and 'Josie's books.’ Blah blah blah. 

All of this moving business seemed pretty stupid to me. I liked our old backyard better, and that we didn’t have a staircase I had to struggle to climb too many times a day. Lastly, I moved away from Betsy who lived across the street, and Mollie who lived on the corner. I had nobody to play House with or have tea parties with. I think that was the worst part of moving to this stinky, new house. I had to leave my old friends, which meant that I had no friends at all. Maybe Mr. Snuggles was the only one but he couldn't talk, and tea with only two people is boring. I had a new scary bed and bedroom. A new, big house to get used to. Painting the new, cracked sidewalk with chalk didn't sound like fun. 

I had no friends, and I felt so alone.

/

Dad closes my door behind him and Mom, mumbling one last 'sweet dreams' and a kiss before the creaky door closes. The room is cloaked in darkness, making new sounds I don't like and that scare me. The Scooby Doo night light next to my bed is the only light there is, except for the faint streetlight out the left window. Otherwise, it's pitch black, so much so I can't even see my own hand in front of me, and that's when I know it's bad. Lying there under the new, cold, and scratchy sheets, I stare into the dark trying to fall asleep. Mr. Snuggles' fuzzy yellow head is tucked under my chin, and my pink blankey;s clutched to my chest. The sound of cars outside is a small hum through the window, and I can hear the muffled noise of my parents talking downstairs.

It feels like I've been lying here for hours, making me wonder why Mom said that 'I should be out like a light after how tiring today was’ when I just can't fall asleep. But, I don't know, because I didn’t do much else besides sitting on the rickety swing outside. I sat there with Mr. Snuggles watching Mom, Dad, and the moving men bring stuff into the house. Bug Juice after Bug Juice and a mini bag of Oreos was for lunch. 

After a while, I hear the lights flick off and the bar of yellow light under my door turns to black, their work done for the night. My parents' voices get closer as their steps creak on the stairs and disappear down the hall, and then it's quiet. Too quiet. Shutting my eyes, I take a breath as I hold Mr. Snuggles closer and breathe in his familiar scent. But then there's a small click and when I open my eyes, the nightlight is out. Not soon after that, there's a scuffle and my bed lifts on the one side only to fall back down to the floor with a thud.

My heart is thumping in my chest fast and I'm sinking down into my Hello Kitty covers, pulling them over my head as my nervous breaths leave my mouth loudly. I suddenly hear somebody else breathing and the sound of footsteps. Quickly, I'm pretty sure I'm going to die and Mr. Snuggles is going to die with me. No, not Mr. Snuggles. A pair of hands rips the covers down off of my face, but I keep my eyes squeezed shut.

"Are ya serious, ya think bloody bed covers are gonna keep ya safe now?" a thick slow voice says, one that sounds . . weird. It sounds like a boy, an older one than me, and he says his words all weird. "C'mon now, open yer eyes already."

I shake my head, not knowing why I'm doing it but I do. Mom always says I'm stubborn and don't like to do what I'm asked of, whatever that word means. "Oh my god, just open yer eyes," they groan, and I don't know why, but I do. I hear a loud 'boo!' and a pair of hands shake my shoulders, making me scream but a hand comes over my mouth to stop it. A strong musty smell surrounds me. "Bloody hell, ya gotta pair of lungs on you! Keep it down, will ya? Don' wanna wake yer parents an' have 'em come in here. 'd lose me bloody job an' 'd only make yer life mo’ of a living hell if that happened, I swear t’ it," they mutter, voice high with alarm, and ending in a creepy laugh. His tongue makes a weird sound, but I can't see him. I can only hear him. For a second in the dark, I see two hovering green circles above me that don't go anywhere, and then tiny little blue dots appear out of nowhere.

Breathing hard and fast and trying to protect Mr. Snuggles, I open my mouth and bite down hard on what I think is his hand. It tastes gross, and it's cold. He mutters a loud 'ouch!' and then there's creaky steps, his musty smell going away, but only a litte. "I can' believe ya fuckin’ bit me, ya li'l brat!"

"Who are you?" I nearly shout, words feeling weird as my voice shakes.

"Be quiet, will ya? You'll wake yer parents- how many times do I gotta say it?!"

"T-tell me who you are, now!" I bite back, slowly sitting up and hearing sounds from across my dark room. "A-And what did you do with my nightlight?"

"Ya want it so bad, then here, have it," he says, something scuffing against the ground before suddenly it's back in the wall and it's all lit up. "Yer sumthin', arentcha? God, never knew why you goddamn kids liked some stupid dog that talked, anyways. I bloody hate nightlights, they don't really do anythin', do they?"

"I said, who are you?!"

"Calm down, ya big baby! I came from under yer bed an' I scared ya. Now, what does that big brain ol’ brain of yers tell ya I am?" he replies, and it takes a few seconds before the answer pops into my head. I hug Mr. Snuggles tighter to my body and breathe him in, my eyes growing hot and watery.

"Oh my bloody god, dontchu cry. No, no, no, dontchu fuckin’ cry on me," they say really fast, letting out a loud breath at the end. The tears fall down my cheeks long and hot, Mr. Snuggles taking the brunt of them as I hold onto him for dear life. "Please, I hate it when you lot cry, 's bloomin' annoyin’ an' it hurts me ears . . Yer not s’posed t’ do it ‘til afta I leave, ugh. Please stop yer cryin' already, Josie."

I sniffle and lift my head after a second, trying to find him in the dark, whoever he is. But, I still can't see a thing. I think he's across the room towards my closet, but I don't really know. "H-how do you know my name- who are you? Tell me already!"

"Okay, okay. Will ya ever shut that bloody mouth of yers? 'm uh, well 'm a monsta, if ya hadn't figured that out already. Yer a bright little five year old, figured you'd know that by now," they reply, and then there's footsteps. They're getting louder and, so I think, closer.

"How do you know all this stuff about me?"

"That's not even that much, ya brat. I know loads 'bout ya. Know yer birthday, even what time you were born down t' tha second. Know ya hate spiders and frogs, think they're gross 'cuz they're all slimy an' squishy. Know ya jus' moved from yer old house t' this one t’day, an' that ya think tha basement's reaaaaal scary. Also know that yer scared of unda ya bed, as ya should be, an' that tha biggest thing yer scared of 's tha dark," he replies, and even though I can't see it, I know that my jaw is hanging down. Who is this person- well, monster, and why does he know so much about me? How?

"How d-do you know all that, and why do you know it?"

"'s me job t' know that stuff 'bout you, Josie. I only get sum stuff, y’know, tha stuff that matters t' me an' I need t' know. Now, why would I need t' know what yer scared of if 'm a big scary monsta? I bet ya can answer me that one, Josie Posie," he says, and I gulp loudly. Thinking about it for a second, I peek a look over to my door, or in the direction I think it would be in.

"No, no, dontchu even think 'bout screamin' or yer really not gonn' like me, Josie," he warns as I sniffle. I can taste the strawberry chapstick on my lips as they open and I yell the two words.

"Mommy, Daddy!"

"Ugh, ya've really done it now, Jose. I thought ya'd learn yer lesson, but guess not. Thanks a fuckin' lot," the boy mutters quietly. There's a tickle on my ankle before a scuffle, and my bed rises and dips again. 

The lights click on outside my room. I hear fast pitter--patter before my door flies open, and the light turns on. My mom comes in first in her pink bathrobe, pulling it around herself as she rushes over. Dad’s hot on her tail in a Packers shirt and checkered pajama bottoms.

"What is it, sweetie?" Mom hums as she stops in front of me, her face looking sad as her brown hair is all a mess.

"There was a monster in my room! He came from under my bed, and he was all mean and scary!"

They look at each other before pulling me in for a hug, playing with my hair and giving me kisses on the head.

"Honey, you probably just heard something. It's an old house and it makes noises sometimes, but it's nothing to worry about. You're just fine, there's no monsters under your bed because there's no such things as monsters," my dad says, sitting beside me and putting an arm around me.

Mom wipes my tears away and smoothes back my hair as they shush my worries and calm my mind before helping me back under the covers. There's about five 'no's when I ask if I can sleep with them, Dad looking more upset than Mom about it until they leave my bedroom with another 'goodnight' and a 'sweet dreams.’ The room is silent and still, except for the hovering Scooby Doo head lighting up the floor around it next to me. My eyes stay there as the warm blankets hug me. With Mr. Snuggles and blankey close, I shut my eyes and try to get some sleep, like Mom had said.

They fly open when I hear a sound, and I whimper when my bed moves again.

"Ya think yer a smart one, d’ya, Josie? Ya can’t get ridd’a me that fast, love," the boy murmurs, his footsteps creaking on the wooden floor. "They didn't believe ya, did they?"

A small 'no' comes from me as the blankets surround me in a warm cocoon, but I suddenly don't want to be lying here anymore. I want to sit up and see him, but that thought scares the bejeezus out of me the second I think about it.

"Didn' do a lotta good cryin' fer mummy an' daddy, now did it? Maybe ya should think 'bout that tha next time, an' see how good of an idea it seems."

"What do you want?!" I say, my lips bending into a frown as I pull myself up to face my closet, wishing I could see his face. But again, all that's there are the little blue random dots that seem to be in the shape of a rectangles or something, and the bright green dots.

"'m a monsta, love. Already told ya that, what d’ya think I want?"

"Are you really a monster?" I whine in question, feeling like there's a circus happening in my chest.

"Yeah, sure I am."

"You're not telling me a fib?"

"Nope, promise me black li'l monsta heart," they say, and I take a shaky breath as my heart thumps in my ears. Holding Mr. Snuggles as tight as I can, I swipe my tongue across my dry lips and stare into the darkness. The ceiling fan overheard whirs softly, the only sound in the room besides my loud breathing. "'m not tellin' ya a fib, Josie. Promise ya that. How d’ya think I came out from unda yer bed, anyways?"

"How am I supposed to believe you? I don't know you, and I can't even see what you look like when you're talking to me. Danget, I don't even know your name o-or if ya have one!"

"God, yer a feisty li'l one, arentcha, doll? Take a breath, would ya? I dunno, ya don' hafta believe me I s'pose, 's upta you on that one," he replies, and I only grow more confused, heaving a big breath. "Don' get so bent outta shape over it, 'm just yer monsta an' I scare ya. Yer not s'posed t' know me name, 's jus' how it 's, I reckon. Tha's all t' it, really. Now, if I did me job an' yer all scared outta yer socks an' everythin', 'll be off. Got other li'l tots I gott' scare besides yerself, y’know."

"But-," I chance, learning I was two seconds too late. There's a flick of something moving past the space the Scooby lights up, and my bed moves. e's gone. "No fair!" I shout, falling back onto my pillows with a plop. Tugginig my blankets back up, I mutter annoyances to Mr. Snuggles, picturing him replying and agreeing with me.

Then there's that sound again. Like a shoe against carpet, or something like that because Mom never lets me wear my shoes in the house, so I can't be sure. "Sweet dreams, Josie Posie! Oh, and sleep tight! I hope all the beddy bugs bite. 'll see ya later, ya li'l brat!" the squeaky scary voice says again before there's another scruff and I hear him leave, wherever in the world he came from.

Turning over with a whimper, I pull the covers over my head and shut my eyes, trying to think of happy things like sugar plums and fairies. I try to forget about what just happened, and the fact that I have a monster under my bed- my own scary monster.

/

The next day was unpack this and unpack that. Move this and move that. To make it plain and simple, it was boring, it was hot out, and I didn't want to ‘fill up my new bedroom,’ like Mom and Dad kept saying to try and make it sound fun. But it wasn't. Because I couldn't stop thinking about the night before when that thing came out from under my bed. After awhile it just melted down into a bad dream or something I had imagined, because I'm a kid and that's what kids do, right? I must have dreamt it or made it up. 

"It's looking nice so far, isn't it, Josie?" Mom says, looking around at my room staring to well, look like a bedroom. There's my dresser, and my little table for tea parties with my favorite stuffies sitting on the chairs. Clothes are beginning to get hung up in my closet, the bookcase against the wall just needs some books to make it look better and not so sad, and a nice pink rug sits by my door.

"Yeah, I guess," I say sadly, taking a seat on the purple beanbag in the corner, watching Mom turn towards the door when Dad comes in holding another box. He pushes his combed back blonde hair off of his sweaty forehead, wet patches showing under his armpits as he turns to walk away after setting down another box.

"Hmm, I wonder where we should put this," Mom says quietly to herself, holding an old shoebox of something or other. Taking a few steps, she crouches down to push aside my pink Hello Kitty comforter.

"No, don't!" I say, standing up fast and running over to her.

"Why noyt" she replies, looking at me quickly. I glance to the empty space under my bed, now that she's pushed the fabric to the side. When I see nothing but the dark wooden floor, I no longer worry, but now I'm confused. "You don't still think there's a monster under there, do you?"

"No, but maybe a really scary dust bunny," I joke and she smiles before pushing the stray box under there and standing back up to get working on things, because she'll never believe me, anyways. Dad and her didn't the first time, because who would believe me when I tell them there's a monster under my bed? I don't even know if it was real myself.

After a while, we take a break and all sit under the shade of the tall oak tree in the front yard. A pitcher of lemonade and hot dogs with potato chips is for lunch as we sit at our new picnic table. The hot June sun beats down on us as Mom and Dad quietly talk about where to put the couches and which would look better in different spots. I nibble on a crinkly yellow chip, looking around at the new neighborhood. And I wonder if I'll ever get past the cold fear settling in my stomach about this new house.

/

Mom kisses the top of my head, smoothing my hair back with her hand before disappearing into the hallway where Dad talks to somebody on the phone loudly. The door closes with a squeak and I turn over with a huff. I hold Mr. Snuggles and blankey as close as I can before closing my eyes, willing him to not come back. Please, please, please. Please don't come back, please don't come back. I fall asleep mumbling it under my breath, the Scooby light protecting me from the darkness, like Mom said. But I don't know how much I believe that anymore.

/

"Wake up!" a voice shouts, and I jolt awake to find somebody bouncing on my bed. "Bloody hell, get yer arse up already!" they say again, and as I rub my sleepy crusted eyes, I recognize the voice and how the words sound funny. It's the boy again, and he's back. It's the monster.

"I was sleeping."

"I can see that, but ya aren't anymo' so wake up. Did ya know ya snore? 's bloody annoyin', if ya ask me," he mutters, something hard like his leg not far away when I stretch my own out and touch him. They recoil from the cold sensation and I hug them back to my body.

Taking his words carefully, I reach over slowly to find the smooth metal chain and yank it hard to bathe the room in light. A scream leaves my lips when I lay my eyes on him, and as if things are moving in slow motion, I see his yellow tinged eyes with bright green circles roll into the back of his head. Next thing I know, he's practically lying on top of me with his cold gross hand over my mouth. My hurried words leave my mouth in muffled murmurs as his bad breath fans over me.

"Dontcha know how t' keep quiet, ya brat?" he spits, shaking his head of dirty brown curls, making them move and dislodging hair from around the two small yellow horns poking out of his head. One on each side, but that's just the first of it. "Scared ya, did I? Good tha's me job, ya li'l bugger. Now, if I take me hand off yer mouth are ya gonna promise not t' scream? Told ya last night what'll happen if ya do it again."

I nod my head slowly, taking in every part of him. His round head slowly nods too before he removes his hand from my mouth and sits back, letting me get up too. Crossing my legs, my eyes stay glued to him as he turns his head to I guess look around my room. "Looks like a bloody pink pixie threw up all over yer room, 's a bit much, innit?" he says, playing with his bottom lip as he scans my bedroom. A few boxes still sit there waiting to be unpacked, but for the most part my room is all made up. I swallow, and he looks over at me, his eyes going over me. "Ya forgot how t' speak or summat?"

"Y-You're really a monster . . I'm not just imagining it," I whisper, my words going all kinds of places.

"Sure am, Josie Posie. No point in really lyin' 'bout it, now 's there?" he says, breaking eye contact as he stands up. And I find out quickly that he's tall. Another twelfth thing I've learned about him in the last minute.

He waltzes over to the corner of my room where the tea table sits along with a shelf holding pull out baskets with different toys in each. His long pale fingers wrap around one of the handles and tugs on it, picking a red headed Barbie out and making a disgusted sound before stuffing it back in. "Yer such a girl, arentchu?" he complains, his blue tinted skin not bothering to push the basket back in before moving onto my bookshelf, picking up a light blue and purple book. "How ironic 's it that ya have this book, huh?" Turning to me and flashing the cover at me, I see that it's Monsters Inc. I want nothing more than to go back to sleep, I think.

"What does that word mean?" I say nervously, his movements slow and careful as he flips through the book and tosses it onto the floor carelessly, ending right side up on an open page. Looking back to me, his crazy brown eyebrows go up as he looks at me with his bright green eyes. I realize that's what I saw last night glowing in the dark, his neon eyes. "The word starting with an 'I'."

"'ironic'?" he asks, and I nod as he takes his time walking around inspecting my stuff, picking up Beary Jones and petting his soft brown fur. "It uh, I dunno how t' describe it, really. Means that sumthin's funny in a weird way, I guess."

"Whatever," I say, my head falling onto my pillow as I get back under the toasty warm covers.

"Ya can't go back t' bed yet."

"And how come?"

"Cuz, I haven't scared ya all good yet. I can't go yet 'til I have," he replies, running his hand over Beary Jones' ears before pulling at his red overalls. In a blink he rips his head off and white cotton is falling down onto the floor like snow.

"No, not Beary! Why'd you do that?"

"Would ya shutup already, ya nosy li'l brat? 's just a fake stuffed bear, get over it!" he snarls, flinging it onto the red table. Beary's head sits on the floor sadly, getting squished by his grimy black sneakers as he walks back over to me. I shrink into the covers as he approaches. "I scare ya all good yet, Josie Posie?"

I reply with a soft 'no' but as he gets closer I move back, reaching the other side of my bed until I'm almost falling over the edge. His pale face, a shade of light blue, gets closer and closer to mine. The little blue dots like freckles covering his ghostly skin look like little flattened balls of playdoh before they're gone, shouting a 'boo! My back hits the hard floor. A whimper leaves my lips and I hold my achy elbow as tears well in my eyes and my bottom lip quivers, turning away when he walks around the corner with a laugh.

"Go away!" I yell at him, my voice small and weak and the crying isn't helping.

"Yer such a li'l baby, ya know that?" he smiles, crouching down. A holey black t-shirt clings to his sides amongst his muscly arms covered with black pictures and words. Pants the same color and just as old and beat up are on his legs, but they're tighter.

"I said go away, I don't like you!" I repeat, smushing my face into the fuzzy white rug next to me. Hot tears spill from my eyes and wet my hot face. My heart thuds loudly as I sniffle with each sob, no matter how quiet I try to make them. He begins to say something I think, but I stop him, "No! You're mean and I never asked for a monster, I hate this new house and you're making it worse! I hate you I hate you, go away and never come back!"

"Josie," he says softly, whatever his stupid monster name is. "Hey, look at me."

"Why should I?"

"Cuz I said so, now look at me, you li'l shit," he says angrily, and I pull away my sweaty teary face to look up at his. It's blurry, but it's blue and weird and dirty. Reaching his hand out for a reason I don't know, I look between it and his face before opening my mouth and biting his finger.

"You li’l fucker, ow! Why d’ya keep doin' that, ugh?!" he swears. I get up from the floor and dash out of the room and down the hallway. "Yer really gonn' get it now, Josie! Thought you weren't gonna be too bad, but now, I dunno anymo'." I hear lastly as I turn left down the hallway, and I stop in front of Mommy and Daddy's door. I take one last peek down the hall to my bedroom where the light flows out into the dark hall, hiccups leaving my lips as thoughts bubble around inside of my head.

Wiping my tears away, I change my mind and when I step back into my room, I find his dark, dusty figure with his back to me, picking up something off my dresser. He must have heard me because he turns around and looks me in the eyes only for a second, and then his crazy green eyes fall to the Disney snowglobe in his hand. Little balls of snow fall down onto the castle from in the Magical Kingdom.

"Please don't break it, that's my favorite. I got it from Disney at Christmas time," I cry.

"Won't if ya promise not t' bloody bite me again," he shrugs, looking to me for an answer and when I nod he puts it back. He runs the tip of his finger over Tinker Bell's glittery wing, walking over to my bed and pushing the cover back off of the floor.

"Where are you going?"

"Told ya last night I got other kiddies t' scare, an' if 'm bein' honest, 'm quite sick of you fer tha day, so 'm off," he answers, sticking his long legs under my bed. When I take a step closer, I notice that they've disappeared and it's just the tops of his legs and the rest of him still there. But that doesn't make sense, so much of this doesn't. "Breathe, Josie, 's jus'- 'll be back tomorra, try not t' bite anybody else while 'm gone, sound good?"

"O-Okay," I say slowly, playing with the sleeve of my princess nightgown.

"God, you are such a girl, 's bloody terrifyin'," he says, shaking his head. I open my mouth to say something. "Whatd’ ya want now?"

"You never told m-me your name."

"Well tha's for me t' know an' fer you t' never find out, innit now, Josie Posie?" he smiles, winking one of his green eyes at me. I sigh and throw my hands up, feeling the soreness when my elbow moves and I wince, whining a 'that's not fair, you're never fair!'

"Tone it down, will you?! 's jus' a name, dunno why ya wanna know so bad!"

"Well, if you're gonna be scaring me every night, I want to know."

"My goodness, 'm in fer a load of trouble with you, aren't I?" he shakes his head, looking away and to under my bed where it's just brown wood and the beginning of dust bunnies. Rubbing his big, pointy nose, he lets out a loud breath and I see his wacky eyes once more. "Tha name's Harry. Now, I really best be off. Sweet dreams an' ya betta not hope tha bed bugs bite!" 

There's nothing left but a whisper of his words and a whoosh after he slid under my bed, making me wonder ten new things that I don't know what to think of or what the answer could even be.

With a huff, I wander to the door and find the lightswitch. With a last look to the empty space under my bed, I flick the light off and dash to my bed quickly, even though I know there aren't any monsters under my bed to get me. Well, I can't say that anymore, I think, as I bring Mr. Snuggles back into my arms. And I don't know what to think of that really, and how it should make me feel.

But all I know is that I'm kind of looking forward to bedtime now, and getting to see my monster, Harry. He’s kind of . . what’s the word? 

Cute.

[racingtoaredlight]

RTARL’s 2020 NFL Season Week 11 Extravapalooza

Holy moly, we’ve already made it to Week 11. I’m honestly conflicted over whether or not this is a good thing. In terms of basic pandemic mitigation practices, the NFL conducting its season is fucking insane. These guys are all well-compensated pros, but they’re still taking risks well above and beyond what they normally do, and I truly feel pretty shitty about that. In addition, the fact that some stadiums are allowing thousands of fans inside during games is a crime against humanity, and it really lays bare how craven and sociopathic the ghouls who own sports franchises are. 

With that said, it’s extremely hypocritical of me to be so disdainful of the NFL’s current existence, since I watch the games, set my fantasy lineup, and generally enjoy all the stuff that comes with an NFL season. I usually bristle and roll my eyes whenever a sporting entity trots out the whole “We feel like we’re helping society by providing a distraction from everything going on” line, but in this case, with where we are right now as a country...the NFL really is doing that. For me, anyway. Is the stress-relief that the NFL provides to me and millions of other people worth all the bad stuff that comes with it? I don’t know. Probably not. But, I’d be lying if I said I’m not thankful that it’s there.

My picks are in BOLD, and the lines come to us courtesy of our friends at Vegas Insider. I use the “VI Consensus” line, which is the line that occurs most frequently across Vegas Insider’s list of sportsbooks. Your sportsbook of choice may offer a different number, and if you’d like my opinion on said number A) you are insane, and B) leave a comment below and I’ll try to answer at some point before things kickoff today.

EARLY GAMES

Tennessee Titans at Baltimore Ravens (-6)

It’s odd to have a game between a pair of 6-3 teams widely considered contenders that feels like a “must win” for each scuffling side. A great man once said “Desperation is a stinky cologne,” and the Titans absolutely reek coming into this one, so I’m giving them the edge. Baltimore being down two starting defensive linemen when Derrick Henry comes to town also factors into my pick, but nobody wants to hear that nerd shit, gotta go with my GUT, baby!

Philadelphia Eagles at Cleveland Browns (-2.5)

Hey, Cleveland doesn’t have to play in the middle of a tornado this week! There will still be driving rains, though. Fortunately, the Browns are built for the slop. RBs Nick Chubb and Kareem Hunt are both ridiculous, but I’d like to give a special shoutout to G Wyatt Teller, who is currently Pro Football Focus’ highest-graded player...in the entire NFL. That’s some grade A beef! DE and straight-up superhuman Myles Garrett is out for this one, which is an enormous blow for the Cleveland defense. If I had any confidence whatsoever in Carson Wentz I’d think about taking Philly, but that young man is a mess.

Pittsburgh Steelers (-10.5) at Jacksonville Jaguars

I’m once again betting on the Steelers playing down to the level of their competition. The Jags kept things close against the Packers last week, there’s fight in them thar cats.

Cincinnati Bengals at Washington Football Team (-1.5)

I’m still extremely nervous for Alex Smith the entire time he’s on the field, but I have to admit there’s something magical about him making it all the way back to being exactly as Alex Smith-y as he was before (minus the scrambling ability, obviously). Washington RB J.D. McKissic has 16(!) catches on 29(!!) targets over the two games Smith has started. If this continues J.D. is going to owe Alex a cut of his next contract, and possibly the mineral rights to his legs if the need arises.

Today is Cincy RB Gio Bernard’s birthday, so LOOK OUT LADIES!

Atlanta Falcons at New Orleans Saints (-3.5)

I’m making this pick based on the assumption that New Orleans really does roll with Taysom Hill at QB for the entire game, because that’s what all currently available information indicates will happen. I really do wonder if that’s going to be the case, though. I’ve read a couple of things speculating that the reason Hill is starting is that if Jameis plays he’s likely to reach various incentive clauses in his contract and cost the Saints a bunch of money. That seems utterly ridiculous to me, because why the hell would you bother signing him at all if this is how you were gonna roll? Then again, I’m not a Football Man, so maybe my un-browned normie brain just doesn’t understand.

Detroit Lions (-3) at Carolina Panthers

CATFIGHT!!!

The Lions are the orange kitty in this scenario, because Matthew Stafford will be playing through a torn thumb while not having WR Kenny Golladay or RB D’Andre Swift at his disposal. 

New England Patriots (-2) at Houston Texans

The concept of an “emotional hedge,” first introduced to me by RTARL commenter Beer, is in play here. I have NO idea if the Patriots are actually decent or not, and this has all the makings of a letdown game coming off of their unexpected win over Baltimore. Reigning Defensive Player of the Year Stephon Gilmore is expected to be back for the Pats in this one, which is very nice. RB Sony Michel is also likely coming back, which could muddy the backfield and take touches away from Damien Harris, which is less nice. 

The Patriots have an atrocious rush defense, but Houston’s primary RB, Duke Johnson, is far better as a receiver than as a straight-up runner, so I’m not sure they can take advantage all that much. In addition, Duke’s receiving skills are mostly squandered because QB DeShaun Watson hates checking down and seemingly prefers to take sacks while looking for throws downfield instead. Wait, why the hell am I picking Houston here??? Is this what hedging is? I don’t like it!

LATE GAMES

New York Jets at Los Angeles Chargers (-9.5)

It feels weird to lay 9.5 points with a 2-7 team, but such is the power of the Jets’ ineptitude. To New York’s credit, they were competitive in two of their last three games (against NE and BUF), but those two games were sandwiched around a 35-9 beatdown at the hands of Kansas City. We would all feel better if the cool, young Chargers steamrolled these sad sacks in a joyous explosion of big plays, and this pick is my attempt at speaking it into existence. 

Miami Dolphins (-3.5) at Denver Broncos

I don’t know why I have an affinity for Drew Lock, but I do. He probably appeals to the same part of my brain that delights in terrible movies and horrible jokes, which is the most backhanded compliment I have ever given anyone in my entire life. Drew's gonna tough it out and try to play through a rib injury this week, which is gutty and admirable and all that, but I can’t imagine it’s going to help his already shaky accuracy.

Green Bay Packers at Indianapolis Colts (-1.5)

The Packers are getting their best defensive player back in CB Jaire Alexander, which will make life more difficult for increasingly-noodle-armed Colts QB Philip Rivers. Conversely, Indy’s defense is among the best in the league, so I don’t really see a carnival of offense coming from the Packers, either. Honestly, this should be a close, well-played game between two exceedingly competent squads. The kind of game where there will be long stretches where nothing major happens, but you can point out random shit that happens away from the ball and talk about line play and really sound like you know what the fuck you’re talking about. A tremendous game for fraudulent football-knowers everywhere.

Dallas Cowboys at Minnesota Vikings (-7)

It would be an INCREDIBLY Vikings move to lose this game outright. The return of Andy Dalton is being treated like it’s something that’ll get the Cowboys somewhat back on track, but prior to his injury he looked like crap, so I don’t really know where that’s coming from. Also, while he was out with a concussion he had a bout with COVID-19 that “hit him hard.” It’s tough for me to imagine he’s going to play BETTER coming out of what sounds like a truly shitty few weeks.

SNF: Kansas City Chiefs (-7.5) at Las Vegas Raiders

A lot has been made about how pissed Kansas City is about the Raiders taking a supposed “victory lap” in their team bus around the Arrowhead parking lot after their win over the Chiefs earlier in the season, and I’m choosing to completely buy into this narrative because it’s fucking hilarious. If K.C. has already reached the “needing to exaggerate/outright invent slights to get up for regular season games against inferior opponents” portion of their reign, we’re in great shape for entertainment purposes going forward.

MNF: Los Angeles Rams at Tampa Bay Buccaneers (-4)

I don’t remotely trust Jared Goff against Tampa Bay’s defense. I do think this is probably our SMASHMOUTH NOSEBLEED GRIND IT OUT Game of the Week, and I can already see Tom Brady screaming at his offensive linemen at some point after he gets popped a couple of times during a single possession. Should be fun!

Last Week’s Record: 7-5-1

Season Record: 65-68-5

[league-of-light]

Week 4 Pick’em

Look, I know I’m late on the picks this week.  I wanted to get them in yesterday, but other things came up and I didn’t get to it.  I’m sorry, ok?  To make up for it, I have written quite the long pick’em for this week.  I’m not entirely sure if I will be able to make them this long every week, but I think I should be able to. 

Why would I spend all this time writing the pick’em? Great question.  Isn’t there a more productive use of your time? Probably.  Will, you’re moving next week, shouldn’t you be packing or something?  Are you just spending way more time writing picks as a means to delay the inevitable anxiety you’re going to feel about starting a new job and moving?  Do you think this is the healthiest way to deal with that? Psh, you’re not my therapist. 

Anyway, here goes

Yerboi vs Brenner? I hardly know’er

This Will vs. Brenner bout, should be promotionally billed as “Chronically Injured and Underperforming” vs “Complete Lineup Ineptitude”. Both teams come into Week 3 at a resounding 0-2, and are looking to get their season on track after some of high profile trades in the first couple weeks of the season.

There are always big expectations when you make a trade in Fantasy Football.  Typically speaking, you hope and expect that the players you got are going to outperform whomever you traded away (or at the very least perform somewhat similarly). Unfortunately, that won’t always be the case.  Sometimes there are weeks like last week, where JuJu outscored T.Y. Hilton and I am forced to sit there and reflect on how I would have won if I just kept JuJu.  Other times, there are weeks like this week, where Brenner ensures he doesn’t have to deal with the emotional trauma of a trade gone awry because he benches the players he traded for. (No there aren’t, this literally never happens)

I pick myself, simply because I don’t think I’ve actually ever seen a team projected to score as few points as Brenner.

Story To Watch: How quickly it will take Drew Brees to score more than the 3 points Brenner got from Tyrod Taylor.  My guess is 4 plays.

Tangiphil vs Hewie and the Hashslingers

After a fairly explosive first week of the season, we can all finally exhale — Phil’s team is bad again. Shockingly, his 3-headed Running Back Monster is down a head.  Unlike the legend of the Hydra, instead of another head growing in it’s place, Phil decided to chase last week’s bench points and play Nelson Agholor.  If you check his bench this week you may notice Joe Mixon outside of the IR slot, Isaiah Crowell’s wasted 18 point TNF total, and another Jets receiver.  That’s right folks, it’s week 3 and Phil is already in midseason form.

But enough about Phil. Steve is 2-0 and I expect his win streak to continue this week.  In my humble opinion, his team is underprojected with only 98 points, as Big Ben, Melvin Gordon, and Marvin Jones all look poised to be playing catchup in potentially high scoring games.  Look for Steve to hopefully rise in the power rankings after squashing Phil.

Story To Watch: He may be the second head of a three two-headed running back monstrosity, but Adrian Peterson is going to look more like Mike Wazowski than James P. Sullivan this week.  The Packers offense comes to FedEx Field with an offense that looks like two-day expedited shipping, while the Redskins offense has been looking like the Pony Express. Game script gets away from the ‘Skins and they abandon the run.

Kyle vs Sean

Close to half of this league isn’t from Rockland, so I’m going to use this opportunity to tell a story.  To the hometown heroes - some of the overarching details may be incorrect, but I don’t care I have the talking stick. If you want accuracy you can write the damn blog post next week.  Anyway, in sixth grade every middle school student has to take World History.  The curriculum is geared towards ancient civilizations, and a decent chunk of time is spent on Egypt.  As such, every year there was (is?, not sure if they still do it) a grade-wide Egypt project where students had to use their knowledge of Egypt, make something, and showcase it to the class.  Think of it like a science fair, but with crappy Egyptian dioramas instead of baking soda volcanoes.  Since I was a bright eyed ambitious young man who loved art and mythology, I knew I would do great on this project.  I chose the ambitious task of making a sculpture of Horus, the Falcon-headed man prince of the Egyptian pantheon. It wasn’t long before I realized my doodling skills didn’t translate well into making 3D models, but I was in far too deep.  I molded the clay as best I could, and then “accidentally” left it in the oven too long so it burned to a crisp and was nearly unidentifiable.  Needless to say, I didn’t do very well on that project.

Why am I telling you this? Because look at Sean’s team.  Does it look real good on paper? Sure. Does that mean he is likely going to win this week? Probably.  But has his overconfidence blinded him into creating a team made of glass with absolutely no depth in a 16-team league? 67%, yes.  (Because that is the grade I got on the project.)

Story to Watch: Alex Collins has become the running back equivalent of Hillary Swank.  Hot or not? Stay tuned this week and find out…

You Guys Again vs. Johnson Ertz

The moment you’ve all been waiting for is here folks.  I…..I can’t believe it’s finally happening.  After almost two full years, the day has finally come.  Dylan Feldman vs. Dylan Costa are facing off in a fantasy football matchup which I am officially dubbing “The Battle for the Right to be Called Dylan in the Fantasy Football League Group Chat” (and since we love our acronyms here, aka TB4TR2BCDITFFLGC).  Two Dylans enter, only one Dylan leaves. This matchup is arguably one of the most important matchups we have ever seen in this league, and has a chance to change the history books forever.

Unfortunately for Dylan Costa, his squad isn’t exactly striking fear into anyone these days.  I’ll have to go with Dylan Feldman, but his lineup has more red letters than Hester Prynne after an all weekend slumber party at Arthur Dimmesdale’s Dimmesdale Dimmahome.

Story to Watch: With the return of Aaron “I smoke Marijuana so Bowers thinks I’m a bad person” Jones coming back to Green Bay, Jamaal Williams’ usage should be monitored. As the kids say, he hasn’t been very good over the past two weeks, and Aaron Jones is ready to come in blazing *~!420!~*

Bearkley vs. Watch Me

Imagine my shock when I saw I won the bidding war for Ryan Fitzpatrick.  I immediately rushed to find the owners of the Tampa Bay WRs so I could celebrate our good fortune as Fitzmagic showers us all with fantasy points.  Now imagine my shock when I saw Samantha has benched Chris Godwin, not only a rookie (we all know my irrational hype with rookies), but a rookie whose name is lit a combination of God and Win.  I don’t know about you, but doesn’t it feel like Samantha has renounced God and doesn’t want to win this week’s matchup?

On the flipside, Nico runs our Dungeons and Dragons group, and if the 80s taught me anything it’s don’t feed weird aliens after midnight, and that D&D is for devil worshipping heathens.  With any hope of good Christian fun squandered for this matchup, it really is anybody’s game.  I want to believe in the underdog, but more favorable matchups lead me to believe that Nico will pull out the W.

Story to Watch: Saquon Barkley caught 2 of 6 targets week 1 against the Jags.  That number increased to 14 of 16 targets last week as Eli Manning completely lost interest in holding on to the football for more than 1 second.  Is it possible that Saquon receives 28 targets this game as Eli Manning has to look JJ Watt and Jadaveon Clowney in the eyes?

Washington vs. Walshington

I want to take a second here and pour one out for Walsh, who didn’t answer my trade offer or my text message regarding Dalvin Cook and Allen Robinson.  Walsh, you took an injury bullet for me and I will forever be grateful.  It’s appropriate that I mention taking a bullet, because rumors have it Frank Gore was actually there when the first metal bullet was shot in 1425.  Between Gore and Kerryon Johnson, Walsh will be lucky if he gets 14.25 points from his running backs this week.

Andy surprisingly continues to ride or die with Andrew Luck, despite Luck being unable to throw the football more than 15 yards. At this point I assume he is just taunting Arielle with Bortles on his bench, and we have to assume that if Bortles continues putting up 30 point games, eventually Andy might start him.  The biggest story on this squad is how Andy managed to get two of the best big play boom or bust WRs with John Brown and Will Fuller, while also having Amari Cooper and Mike Evans.  That’s a solid receiving core you got there pal, and I just want you to know I see it and appreciate it.

Story To Watch: C’mon, it’s Philip Lindsay.  Every week it’s Philip Lindsay. Everyone loves a hometown hero and I have greatly enjoyed watching this kid ball out.

Bowers v Arielle

I’m high on Dylan Leone Arielle’s team this year.  How could you not be? It was drafted by a man who has $45,000 in fantasy football great young woman who has shown her commitment to the league.  For whatever reason, ESPN’s site stopped working just as I was going to look at this matchup, so unfortunately I am going to have to give an abridged write up of my pick.  I have played these teams back to back so you would assume I know who is on their rosters, but I can’t remember anything other than Russell Wilson and James Conner on Arielle’s team, and Golden Tate and Kirk Cousins on Bowers’.

Based on this limited memory alone, I suppose I am going to pick Bowers in what will likely be another close matchup for the Reikland Reavers

Story to Watch: The story of life as I take this momentary absence from ESPN’s Fantasy Football to reflect on the finer things in the world.  Like Yahoo Fantasy Football.

Jason v Harnsowl

ESPN is still not working for me, neither on my phone nor my computer, so I can’t really give much analysis here.  However, not much analysis is needed.  Unlike his godless sister, Jason is a man of faith. And if George Michaels taught us anything, it’s that you gotta have faith.  You gotta have faith, faith, faith.  Carson Wentz returns this week and I don’t care whoever Harnsowl is playing, it doesn’t really matter.  I mean, as far as the matchup is concerned it might matter, but emotionally speaking, Jason has already won this week. 

I can’t be expected to pick a winner in a matchup that already has a winner, so instead I’ll take this time to remind you to spay or neuter your pets.  Bob Barker used to do a fantastic job of reminding the American people to do so, and if I am being completely honest I just don’t think Drew Carey delivers the message with the same panache. Like sure, I know Drew still says it at the end of the show, but does he really even believe it? Only Drew can really answer that question, but if I had to guess I would bet $100 $101 Drew.  While we’re on the topic, if any of you ever manage to go on Price is Right and you do that thing where you bid one dollar higher than someone else did, you can consider our friendship over.  Not only is it the worst strategy ever, it’s also rude as hell to the other contestant.  In some cases I’m sure the people legitimately don’t know what to bet after someone else bet around the same thing they did, but for the love of God at least bet like $10 higher so there is some tension in the room.  

But yeah, back to football, I pick Jason

Story to Watch: The next episode of Price is Right, Monday September 24th

[pippiessweathogs]

That 70’s Show/ Welcome Back Kotter crossover

Title: What Happens in Brooklyn…

Summary: When Donna receives a summer job opportunity in Brooklyn, she plans a road trip for her and the rest of the gang. Once there, they spend time getting to know her cousin and his friends.

Chapter one

 As Hyde held Fez upside down by his ankles, Kelso dove to the floor to pick up the objects that fell from Fez’s pockets. Kelso laughed and picked up a coin once it landed on the floor.

       “Got a quarter!” He said, smiling brightly, as he held the coin up for Hyde to see

       Hyde laughed and shook Fez a little “Let’s see what else shakes loose.”

       A piece of hard candy dropped down and hit Kelso on the head. Kelso snatched it up with a laugh and began to unwrap it.

       “Score! Free candy!”

       Fez tried to snatch at the candy in Kelso’s hand “Ay! My candy!”

       Dancing a little, Kelso backed away and teased Fez with the candy. “What’s the matter, Fez?” He laughed

       “Give me my candy you son of a bitch!”

       “You mean this candy?” Kelso held it towards Fez. Before Fez could grab it, though, Kelso popped it into his mouth with a mocking laugh.

       Just at that moment, Eric walked down the stairs and stopped at the bottom to see what was happening. He frowned and shook his head.

       “Come on guys. You can’t do that to Fez.”

He walked over to the shelf and grabbed the Green Bay Packers helmet. Walking over to Fez, he put the helmet on Fez’s head and patted it in place to secure it.

       “There you go, buddy. This way if Hyde drops you, your head will be protected.”

       “Oh I see how it is.” Kelso said. “When Hyde has Fez by the ankles Fez gets a helmet. But when he does it to me, he makes sure to drop me straight on my head.”

       “That’s because it’s not as funny when Fez gets hurt.” Hyde said with a slightly snorted scoff.

       Donna and Jackie entered through the side door. Smiling, Donna crossed the room to the couch. “Guys I have-“ she stopped and looked over at Hyde, who was still holding Fez upside down. “What the hell are you doing?”

       “We’re playing with the human Fez piñata.” Hyde said “What else?”

       “Um don’t you normally hit piñatas with bats?” Jackie asked

       Eric snapped his fingers, pointing at her. “Good call. Kelso get a bat.”

       “Oh awesome!” Kelso started to walk to the stairs “I always wanted an excuse to hit Fez with a bat!”

       “Ay! Hyde put me down!” Fez squirmed, trying to break out of Hyde’s grasp

       Hyde laughed “Alright you big baby.” He lowered Fez to the floor and let him go

       As Fez stood, he took the helmet off and handed it to Kelso. Looking dejected, Kelso looked at everyone.

       “Aw man. Does this mean we don’t get to hit Fez with bats now?”

       Hyde stepped closer to Kelso and patted the helmet “Hold onto that, Kelso.” He walked over to his chair and sat down.

       Donna watched as everyone took their seats. She looked at them with a smile. “Ok if everyone’s through torturing Fez, I can finally go on with my big news.” she paused to see she had their attention. “You guys wouldn’t believe this amazing job opportunity I just got.”

       “Oh Donna, no one cares that you’re going to fulfill your dreams of becoming a trucker.” said Jackie with a roll of her eyes and a slight grunt. “You don’t have to announce it.”

       Donna raised an eyebrow, showing her irritation. “Jackie. Stop telling everybody that.” she rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “Anyway, before I was so rudely interrupted, I just got the chance to be a guest DJ at this radio station in Brooklyn for part of the summer. I’m going there in a couple weeks for an interview, but I figured, we’d all have free time then so why don’t we all go on a road trip?” She smiled and danced giddily in her spot to show her excitement.

       Jackie sat up with and excited smile “Brooklyn? Oh my God! That’s in New York!”

       “Um, well, yeah it is.”

       Jackie cut her off “Oh my God, I always wanted to go to New York! We’d get to see Broadway, and Times Square and-“ She gasped “Think about all the shopping we could do!”

       “Yeah, but Jackie, that’s New York City. We’re going to Brooklyn.”

       “Hey,” Eric said as he got a Popsicle from the freezer “I hear Coney Island is nice this time of year.” he unwrapped the Popsicle and looked at Jackie. “But if you want, we can drop you off on Broadway and the rest of us can hang out on the Coney Island boardwalk.” He paused, ignoring the look Jackie gave him “It certainly would make our vacation more enjoyable having you in another city.”

       “Yeah, but, Forman,” Hyde said “Jackie’s smart. Even if we dropped her off at Broadway, she might be able to fine her way into Brooklyn. Then what would we do once she ran into us?”

       “We could always throw her off the Brooklyn Bridge.” Donna replied, causing Jackie to give an offended huff. Donna, shook her head, with a small chuckle. “Alright. Kidding aside, what do you all say about this trip? I mean, I’m going no matter what, but it would make things a lot more fun if I had you guys with me.”

       “Donna, this trip idea sounds great.” Eric said with a grin “Yeah we should really do this.” His grin brightened as it spread to the others.

       With everyone else in agreement, the excitement began to spread around the room. A buzz quickly emerged as they all came together to discuss their plans for the trip.

 …………

         Gabe stood in front of the chalkboard with an eraser in his hand. As he began erasing the board, he started speaking to the class. He knew that as he spoke, none of his words were actually reaching the students, but he continued talking anyway. Part way through his speech, which he purposely made increasingly bizarre with each unbelievable line that went over the heads of his students, he turned to face the class. While doing this he saw the students were busy murmuring in their own conversations as well as busying themselves with their personal activities at their desks.

       “Now, I know class is almost over, and you all are excited, but summer vacation doesn’t start for a few more days. I still need you to pay attention to me for just a few more minutes.”

       “But Mr. Kotter.” said Horshack “We are but young children, and excitement for the summer is in the air. And what may be a few days ‘til vacation for you might as well be a few hours for us. We can listen to you tell jokes some other time.”

       Gabe grinned slightly to show he was a little amused by the student’s reply. “So if that’s how it is, then.” He nodded “Well there really isn’t much left in my lecture today that you could have learned… not that you’d actually learn it anyway.” He walked over to his desk and sat on top of it. “Why don’t we just take the rest of the class time here to discuss summer vacation? Your minds are already there anyway. For some of you, your minds have been on summer vacation since fifth grade.”

       Smirking, Epstein sat up some in his seat “Hey, now this is the kind of class discussion I can get into.” He pointed a finger at Gabe “Y’know Mr. Kotter, if you had more class discussions like this one I’da been an A student by now.”

       “And miss out on having you in the eleventh grade for the next four years? Why didn’t I think of that sooner?” Gabe asked with sarcastic excitement

       “Right on. But here’s a better thought, Mr. Kah-tare.” Freddie said “Why don’t we skip discussion and head straight fo’ summer vacation?” he finished with a slick grin

       With Freddie’s cue, all four Sweathogs got up and started to leave the room. Vinnie, last in line, smiled and patted Gabe on the shoulders.

       “Don’t worry, Mr. Kotter. We’ll send you a postcard.” he said, before stepping out the door with the other three guys.

       “Would you guys get back in here?!”

       Back tracking, all in a line, the four of them entered the room. They lined up in front of Gabe’s desk, each giving a testing grin, further irritating the teacher. Not amused, Gabe tilted his head, jerking it towards the students’ desks, signaling them to sit down. Taking note to the fact that Gabe was actually serious, they took his cue and went back to their seats. Satisfied with his seated students, Gabe continued with his lesson, squeezing the last bits as best as he could into the remaining minutes of the class.

       “Now,” said Gabe once his lesson was finished “Since we clearly all are in the summer vacation mood, why don’t we take the time we have left in class to talk about what we plan on doing for summer vacation.”

       “Aw do we gotta, Mr. Kotter?” Vinnie asked

       “Yeah. The bell’s ‘bout to ring any minute and Vinnie’s got all he can to manage all the dates he got lined up. Just for this week. Am I right, Vinnie?” Epstein reached over and slapped Vinnie’s back.

       “Actually I ain’t got no dates yet.”

       “What?” Gabe asked in surprise “Do my ears deceive me or did Vincent Barbarino actually say he doesn’t have any dates for the summer?”

       “Hey! I said I ain’t got dates yet.” Vinnie smiled proudly. “But that’s only because I told the girls they’d have to wait a couple weeks. See, I got my cousin from Wisconsin visiting me the first couple weeks of summer and she says she’s coming with some friends.” He leaned back in his seat, placing his hands folded together behind his head. “Might be nice to get some out of town action for a change.”

       “Hold up.” Freddie held up his hands and shook his head. “Vinnie you ain’t plannin’ on messin’ ‘round with yo cousin, are you?”

       “What?” Vinnie frowned “Freddie you know me better than that! Please. Ain’t nobody touchin’ my cousin while she’s here. Especially none of you turkeys. I was talkin’ about her friends!”

       “Yeah, yeah sure, sure.” Epstein said “Barbarino if you ain’t letting nobody go after your cousin then you gotta let us take a crack at her friends.”

       He and Freddie laughed while slapping each other a five.

       “Yeah. Vinnie jus’ how many friends is yo cousin bringing with her?”

       “She didn’t say how many or who she was bringing with her. But I’m guessing there’ll be enough for you, me and Epstein to take cracks at them.”

       The three of them laughed and gave each other fives in celebration of their newly anticipated summer hijinks. Horshack, though clearly disappointed, sat up and leaned forward towards Vinnie’s seat.

       “But Vinnie why’d you leave me out? Huh? Don’t I get a crack at nobody? Why is it every time there’s plans to be with girls, I always get left out? What am I supposed to do while the three of you spend time with the girls?”

       “Hey don’t sweat it, Horshack.” Epstein said “While we’re with the girls, you can watch our stuff.”

       “Oh?” Horshack asked “But little Juan, what makes you so sure one of these girls will want to be with you when you’re a sheephead?”

       This infuriated Epstein, causing him to bolt to his feet. As he chased Horshack out of the room, the bell to end class rang. Gabe had no choice but to dismiss the rest of the students before he could peek into the hallway to check on Epstein and Horshack.

       “Come on Epstein!” he called out “Let Arnold out of your locker! He will be smothered to death by your gym socks!” He shook his head, turning his eyes up to the ceiling as though to ask ‘what am I going to do?’

[junker-town]

All hail Andy Reid, the NFL’s most quotable coach

Mark J. Rebilas-USA TODAY Sports

He’s given us some infinite wisdom on coaching, Mozart, cheeseburgers, and more over the years.

Andy Reid won his first-ever Super Bowl as a head coach when his Kansas City Chiefs beat the San Francisco 49ers. Reid, who has been a head coach since 1999, entered the game at Hard Rock Stadium in Miami as the NFL’s winningest head coach without a Lombardi Trophy. A win in Super Bowl 54 completed his impressive coaching legacy.

Reid is known for his innovation on offense, most recently with Patrick Mahomes and the Chiefs’ high-powered offense. But coaching styles aside, the man nicknamed “Big Red” is also known for his big personality.

With that comes a lot of great quotes from him throughout the years. These are just a few of his greatest hits.

Rei has offered a lot of insightful wisdom in his years of coaching.

Reid is one of the longest-tenured, and most respected, coaches in the NFL. He started his head coaching career with the Philadelphia Eagles in 1999. He was then hired by the Chiefs in 2013 after the Eagles moved on from Reid following the 2012 season.

After his first season in Kansas City, he gave some advice to prospective coaches.

“Respecting people is an important part of life whether it’s the person doing janitorial work or the person above you,” Reid said, via the Associated Press. “It doesn’t matter who you are, I’m going to respect you.”

He’s expressed that sentiment other times, too, including after the Super Bowl win:

Andy Reid on reflecting on the last 30 years: “I’ll tell you, it’s awesome. I’m not sure it’s completely settled in… we all know that it’s not a one-man show. It takes a team together. Not just the players, not just the coaches. Everybody."

— Arrowhead Pride (@ArrowheadPride) February 3, 2020

And for those who might be getting older and need to be composed in big moments — like the 61-year-old Reid — he had a PSA about heart health:

“My heart’s racing. I’m getting older, can’t let it race too fast.” Andy Reid with the quote of the night!

— Liz Gonzales (@TheLizGonzales) February 3, 2020

He’s always ready with a great one-liner, too.

The morning after winning the Super Bowl, Reid was asked if he slept with the Lombardi Trophy. He responded with a shoutout to his wife, which probably would have been a lot creepier if it was anyone other than Reid saying it:

Reid: "I didn't spend the night with the trophy. I spent it with my trophy wife."

— Adam Teicher (@adamteicher) February 3, 2020

Reid and his wife, Tammy, have been married for 38 years. Goals!

He’s also had some pretty good quips about football. Now I’m not exactly sure what a tiddlywink contest is exactly, but it’s apparently not something you want to do during a football game:

Andy Reid quote of the day, in any context: "We're not in a tiddlywink contest. There's a certain amount of pressure that comes with the sport."

— Brooke Pryor (@bepryor) November 28, 2018

As Reid and other head coaches know, not every game will be flawless. After Kansas City won a sloppy game against the Detroit Lions in Week 4 of the 2019 season, Reid said “not all of Mozart’s paintings were perfect” because, sure?

How bout those Chiefs! pic.twitter.com/qv7wq28BuT

— Kansas City Chiefs (@Chiefs) September 29, 2019

This other football quote from him about a four-point stance really needs no comment:

Favorite no-context needed quote from Andy Reid this morning: "You don’t come out of the womb in a four-point stance. Well, you kind of do. But you don’t stay there very long." Btw, this was also the second time he said womb at the coaches breakfast.

— Brooke Pryor (@bepryor) March 26, 2019

He also once compared himself, unfavorably, to Von Miller:

Andy Reid on @VonMiller’s athleticism: “He can bear-crawl faster than I can run.”

— Nicki Jhabvala (@NickiJhabvala) October 24, 2018

I’d like to see this race happen in real life, just to be sure this is correct.

The man really loves his cheeseburgers, and talks about this love A LOT.

After the Chiefs’ Super Bowl win, Reid said he was ready to “get the biggest cheeseburger you’ve ever seen ... might be a double.”

Andy Reid's going to get the biggest cheeseburger he can find, might make it a double pic.twitter.com/BjTeYvtPsb

— CJ Fogler (@cjzero) February 3, 2020

He expanded further on his cheeseburger plans at his postgame presser, adding that he was going to get one with extra cheese:

It’s cheeseburger time for Andy Reid. pic.twitter.com/IOblwkIDxU

— USA TODAY Sports (@usatodaysports) February 3, 2020

Following up big wins with cheeseburgers is kind of Reid’s thing. It’s how he celebrated the Chiefs’ AFC Championship victory over the Tennessee Titans:

“I had a cheeseburger and went to bed.” - (Classic) Andy Reid on how he celebrated last night.

— BJ Kissel (@ChiefsReporter) January 20, 2020

He doesn’t just crave burgers after games — he wants them before games, too:

#Chiefs coach Andy Reid gets to work around 4:30 am for a noon home game, and he wants a hamburger. pic.twitter.com/E2g4Rzgt2y

— BJ Kissel (@ChiefsReporter) December 7, 2018

Reid knows exactly how he likes his burgers. Via Arrowhead Pride, from 2015:

“I like it medium,” Reid said on 610 Sports (24 minute mark here). “It’s hard, I mean, you have to execute that thing the right way. You have to get it to where it’s perfect and juicy when you cut it open but not raw. Then a nice slice of good, fresh Vidalia onion on it. Some mayo and ketchup. A little squirt of mustard but not too much. Pickles, lettuce and tomato and I’m ready to roll. The bun becomes very important. To put all that together and make it perfect, there’s some time involved. That’s where it comes in. You practice, you get it right and then when you bite into it baby, it’s ecstasy right there, so that’s like a good play.”

Speaking of food, Reid often discusses his love for various cuisines.

In the week leading up to Super Bowl 54, Reid compared having his nine grandchildren to ... wait for it ... sweet and sour pork:

A wise man once said that grandchildren are kind of like sweet and sour pork. pic.twitter.com/4U7yB0ZSOd

— Arrowhead Pride (@ArrowheadPride) January 30, 2020

“Those nine grandkids are awesome. They make you feel young, and at the same time, they make you feel old. It’s kind of like sweet and sour pork.”

Seeing a pattern here? Reid is a big red meat guy, and as someone who probably eats more red meat on a regular basis than a human should, I really appreciate this about him.

On a related note, please know that Reid apparently once ordered three steaks at one sitting. In 2017, five years after Reid had coached in Philadelphia, Eagles owner Jeffrey Lurie said Reid did it the first time the two met at dinner:

Lurie says the first time he went out to dinner with Andy Reid, Reid ordered 3 steaks at once #Eagles

— Eliot Shorr-Parks (@EliotShorrParks) September 7, 2017

A regional VP of Del Frisco’s steakhouse, Rich Furino, amazingly confirmed the story to NBC Philadelphia:

“Basically, when the server comes up and gives their speel, they describe the different cuts of meat, flavor profiles, and textures, he described them to Andy and said, ‘Would you like the ribeye, the New York strip, or the filet mignon?’” Furino said on a radio appearance. “And Andy said, ‘Yes.’ Like yes to all three. That’s kind of how it got started. They put all three in front of him. He put down about 90% of them.”

Reid is officially my hero after reading this story. As for the head coach’s side of the story, he claims he doesn’t remember doing it, but will take credit for it anyway:

“That’s what he said? He’s too funny,” Reid said on a podcast with Adam Schefter. “Well, I might have. It might have been for Joe, Jeffrey, and Andy. Other than that, I don’t remember ordering three steaks. I’ll take credit for it though.”

Years before that, he put down a 40-ounce steak in 19 minutes when he and current NFL Network analyst Steve Mariucci were assistants with the Green Bay Packers.

“When we were rooming together at Green Bay, our wives weren't moved there yet, so we’d go out to eat every night,” Mariucci said on the Rich Eisen show in 2015. “We went to this one place, this Prime Quarters, a steak place, and if you could eat a 40-ounce steak and the salad, and garlic bread, and other stuff around it — if you could eat it under an hour, you get your next meal free, and you get your picture on the wall with a big bib, and that baker’s hat or whatever it is. Andy finished his meal in 19 minutes, and I finished mine in 30 and we are still on the wall over there at that restaurant.”

Amazingly, that photo exists on Twitter:

As promised, @SteveMariucci photo with @Chiefs HC Andy Reid after they destroyed 40oz steaks when they both were @packers assistants. pic.twitter.com/VLMUkGWMBz

— Rich Eisen Show (@RichEisenShow) December 6, 2016

He doesn’t exclusively just eat or talk about red meat, though.

Before his 2019 Super Bowl-winning season with the Chiefs, Reid’s biggest offseason accomplishment was eating chile relleno, which is a Mexican dish:

Andy Reid was asked if he did anything fun or exotic this offseason: “I attacked a couple Chile rellenos.”

— Jeff Darlington (@JeffDarlington) July 23, 2019

In 2013 when Peyton Manning was still in the league, Reid compared what Manning can do in football with what Reid can do at a buffet.

“I would tell you he’s talented. There’s talent. You and I could do this at a buffet, but he does it on the football field, and there’s some athletic ability that takes place there.”

Same, Andy. Same.

How he eats Snickers bars is especially innovative, just like his schemes:

More Andy Reid being Andy Reid: 'It's like a Snickers bar in the freezer, right? I mean, it's treasured.' #Chiefs #NFL

— Sean Keeler (@SeanKeeler) June 5, 2014

Who doesn’t want to try that now?

It’s really hard not to love a coach who can crank out one-liners like these. He’s not going anywhere, and neither are the Chiefs, so expect more of the ever-quotable Andy Reid in the future.

[kasiopeiae]

Cheese and Whine

not my gif

The wind whipped harshly around you, and it would have hurt the exposed skin of your cheeks and nose had they not already been decidedly frozen and numb. Walking twenty minutes to your favorite bar usually wasn’t an issue, but perhaps you should have checked the weather and grabbed a thicker scarf before heading out tonight. As you passed the RenCen, you took notice of the temperature; eighteen degrees. You vaguely recalled hearing someone mention in passing that temps would drop below zero tonight with the wind-chill and had considered, only briefly, that maybe you should enjoy the game from the comfort of your home. But, you reasoned, it was the last game of the season and they’d played so well every time you watched at the bar. If you watched from home and the game was a complete blowout, you’d feel personally responsible for the loss. So out in the cold you went. Never could anyone question your dedication or loyalty to your team. The frozen tip of your nose was evidence of all you were willing to sacrifice for a win. As the wind howled around you, you struggled to pull open the door to the Greektown bar. A brief moment of reprieve from the wind allowed you to yank it open and finally find shelter from the elements. You were hit with a blast of warmth as you stood in the doorway that instantly began to thaw your frozen body. Someone else was coming in behind you, forcing you to move further into the bar and that’s when you noticed how absolutely packed it was. All the booths and high-tops were full, servers buzzed around as quickly as they could in the sea of Honolulu blue. There were specks of gold and green throughout, but Lions fans easily out numbered the few cheeseheads. But of course the only empty spot you could find was at the bar next to a guy in a heavy brown coat, hunched over his drink with eyes intently on the screen, with a green and gold beanie pulled tightly over his head. The game was about to start and you didn’t want to risk having to stand all night, so you reluctantly headed for the empty spot, fixing your own blue beanie to proudly display the logo so this guy would know that you were not going to be friends. You hoped against hope that perhaps this would be one of the few civilized Packers fans in the world so you wouldn’t have to listen to any taunts and could focus on the game in peace. This game was a big deal. Not as big of a deal as it could have been, thanks to the Giants doing their job and winning earlier that day, but still. If the Lions won tonight, they’d be the champs of the NFC North, earn a bye week heading into the playoffs, and have home field advantage for the duration of the playoffs. If they lost, well, it’d be same day, different shit, playing the Packers again, but at Lambeau—a stadium the Lions managed to be completely incapable of winning in. You settled into the barstool next to the cheesehead, and he straightened a bit, shuffling closer to the wall to give you more space. Before taking a swig of his beer, he tipped it in your direction and smiled. “May the best team win,” he said, finishing his beer. He had an accent, but not that of the typical Midwesterners that traversed this area. He was British. And beautiful, you noticed, as you let your eyes linger on him a bit longer than necessary. His dark hair was just peaking out from under his hat, curling at the ends, and he had these dark pink lips that settled into a charming smile.

What was it about Brits that made them all so charming? And what was it about this one that made him even more charming, even though he was a fan of Satan’s own team? The bartender came by to collect his empty, and you took the opportunity to order the same drink you’d been drinking all season. You began to truly settle in for the game, shucking your coat and hanging it off the back of your stool. As cold as you had been only a few minutes prior, now you were sweating as you thawed from the inside out. You wondered how your seatmate hadn’t overheated as he’d clearly been in the bar long enough to finish at least one beer, but then noticed the tight white jersey he had on underneath. “Scared to take off your coat?” you teased as the bartender sat your drink in front of you. You pulled the orange from the rim and bit into it, sucking the juices. The way his eyes trailed from your own to the fruit between your lips did not go unnoticed; you weren’t the only one intrigued. “It’s rough in the D,” he responded with a smile, his attention turning back to the screen. The game was about to start. “Not in Greektown,” you snorted. “Well, how do I get there? Need t’be free to show where me loyalties lie,” he asked, enjoying the banter. The loud laugh and way you covered your mouth with your hand brought his attention back to you. “This is Greektown, innit?” His cheeks were slightly pink from embarrassment as you laughed at him. “It’s alright, you’re foreign,” you said through small laughs as you patted his hand. You stopped laughing as you could feel the heat exchanged between your fingers. The two of you made eye contact again, suddenly feeling much closer than you had been a second ago, then turned back to watch the kickoff. After the first commercial, he leaned over with eyes still trained to the screen and murmured, “M’Harry.” He glanced away from the tv when you didn’t immediately respond, so you smiled and gave him your name. Neither team had scored yet, but the Packers were driving down the field with a vengeance and their lead was inevitable. With a sigh, you occupied yourself with your drink and adverted your gaze so you didn’t have to watch them score. “So yeh like disappointment?” Harry asked, turning himself to face you completely during the next commercial break. Had any other green and gold fool been ribbing you, you’d have let them know where they could shove their comments, but Harry was charming. Harry was British. Harry was hot. “Hey, once you’ve gone oh-and-sixteen, literally nothing else can be disappointing. The worst has already happened.” “So yeh…hopeful?” You captivated Harry. His face was alight with curiosity as he awaited your answer. Never had he expected someone so cute, and a bit feisty, to sit next to him in a little bar in a strange city and pique his interest the way you had. “Yes,” you responded earnestly. “And proud. The team’s played very well this season, despite a less than stellar defense and losing such an essential player during the offseason. Everyone doubted our potential, but we’ve sure showed them.” Harry’s smile grew as you warmed up to him, letting your passion for the team seep out. He wanted to keep you talking, keep your attention, so he could take in the your way eyes widened in excitement and your lips puckered a bit as you thought about what to say. “Another one, miss?” the bartender asked, touching your empty glass. Harry was disappointed when he lost your gaze when you turned to face the bartender and was determined to get your attention back. “Um, actually, can I just get a pop?” you answered. You’d downed your first pretty quickly, and if anything was going to happen with Harry, you wanted to make sure you were coherent for it. The bartender nodded, taking your empty glass as he turned to fulfill orders. ‘“A pop’,” Harry mimicked in an exaggerated American accent. The glare you shot him and the way you clucked your tongue in disapproval enthralled him further. That was the moment he decided he would rile you up all night long and see what it got him. “And what do you call it? ‘Fizzy drink’?” Your attempt at a British accent was awful and caused a hearty laugh to come out of Harry. “Summat like that,” he laughed, shaking his head as he eyed you with amusement. The two of you turned back to the game, each with less focus than before. You were conscious of just how close Harry was, and every subtle shift and adjustment he made in his seat prickled your body with awareness. You had never felt so in tune with another person before, which made you desperate to continue the banter. As the players gathered around the line of scrimmage, you nudged Harry with your elbow and pointed at the screen. “Bet it’ll be a false start here.” “Why?” Harry asked, incredulous that you’d insinuate a penalty against his team. “Just got a feeling,” you said with a shrug. Sure enough, just before play started, one of the Packers adjusted his position, the Lions defense calling it to the attention of the referees, and a five-yard penalty was issued. You were shocked. Harry was perturbed. He narrowed his eyes and pointed an accusatory finger your way. “What kind of witchcraft was that?” There was no stopping the giggles that escaped and your only response was a shrug. “I think you’re bad karma for this game.” “I’m bad karma? My team is the one that’s down!” The next few minutes of gameplay were incredible. For you, anyway. After the penalty, the Packers threw an interception, which was promptly returned for a Lions touchdown and field goal that evened the score. “Yeh bad juju, love,” Harry muttered, holding his head in his hands as the first quarter ended. He stood up and pointed at you once he got the bartender’s attention. “Bring her another one of those drinks with the orange.” “I’m good,” you giggled, waving your hands in dissent. “I don’t need another.” “Yes, yeh do. Ever since yeh switched to pop my team’s been dreadful. In fact, she’ll have two, please.” “I won’t drink them.” Your protest was feeble through the fit of giggles. “How ‘bout this,” Harry conceded as the bartender sat two drinks in front of you just before play resumed at the beginning of the second. “They get a first down, you’ll drink ‘em.” The fire in Harry’s green eyes was the only reason you agreed. There was a promise within them if you played along with him. Of course, Green Bay got the first down and began their assault down the field as you led the assault on your liver by switching the pop for the orange drink. With a stroke of luck, they were unable to convert on a third down and had to settle for a field goal. Three points were better than seven, so you took a swig and hoped the Lions would pick it up. The smug smirk on Harry’s face was accentuated as he chewed on his gum, so you decided it was your turn to ante up. “How ‘bout this,” you echoed, getting his full attention. “If the Lions score on this drive, you’ll take that hat off.” “This one?!” Harry pointed to his cap. “Now yeh askin’ too much!” “Then counter.” “Right. Fine. We’ll do yours, but if the Packers intercept, you’ll take yours off.” “My…?” You waggled your eyebrows coyly, but Harry saw right through the innocent façade. “Hat, love,” he replied emphatically before lowering his voice. “Or more, if yeh’d like.” The heat rose to your cheeks as Harry’s words sunk in. Suddenly you cared less about the game itself and more about the game that now surrounded it. “Play’s starting,” you murmured, but neither of you were in a hurry to resume watching. It was the groans of the crowd that signaled that Green Bay had, in fact, intercepted the ball and your hat needed to be removed. Harry glanced at the tv for confirmation before closing the small distance between you two and fingering the knitted edge of your hat. “Can have it back later,” he said softly as he pulled it off. Your hair fell around your face, but before you could attempt to fix the hat hair, Harry ran his fingers through your strands and smoothed back the disheveled pieces. He stuffed your hat in the inside pocket of his coat, and you followed after, but not before he grabbed your wrist to stop you. “Don’t forget to give it back.” “Promise.” He crossed his heart with a finger on his free hand. “Or maybe I will so yeh have t’see me again.” He released his grasp on your wrist, returning your hand to your lap, but instead of retreating back to his personal space his hand remained atop yours. Your thighs squeezed together in response to his closeness, a movement that did not go unnoticed by Harry. “Or you could make tonight worth my while so I want to see you again. Then you don’t even have to steal anything.” “S’not stealing,” Harry replied, his fingers caressing your thigh. “A bet’s a bet.” “Fine, fine,” you relented. This game with Harry was bringing out your competitiveness, and you were not one to be outdone. As play resumed, you wracked your brain for another bet. Your eyes lingered on the jersey beneath his coat. While the heaviness of his outwear sheathed his lithe frame, the tightness of the jersey clung to his chest muscles. “If the Packers score, you’ll take your coat off.” Harry’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Why yeh bettin’ against your team, love?” “Well, either they don’t score or they do and I get to see all that you’re hiding underneath that heavy coat. It’s a win for me no matter what.” Harry rolled his gum around his mouth, his chewing becoming more exaggerated as his jaw fell slack in awe. The way you were so eager to play along with him, mixed with the feisty competitiveness you were exhibiting made him wonder what you’d be like in bed. “Guess we better watch then?” Reluctantly, you both turned away from each other to watch the play unfold. When the Packers scored, you swore under you breath, but your mood quickly improved as Harry wiggled out of his coat. Vindication swirled through you as you admired how the fabric tugged tightly around his broad shoulders and the rest pulled closely around his torso. A shirt had never fit so perfectly on a human body before. “Help take yeh mind off things?” A knowing smirk crossed his lips. “Told you it was a win-win for me,” you replied, taking another sip of your drink. You’d never been happier for a commercial break as it gave you the opportunity to admire Harry more. He drank up your appreciation of him and let it fuel his confidence, making an effort to brush his fingers against you more and let his eyes linger all around you just long enough to stoke the fire in your belly. Through all this, your chairs had slowly been brought closer together; a shift by one, an adjustment by the other. All were meant to be nonchalant movements, but Harry took it upon himself to close the gap unabashedly, bringing his chair to touch yours and capture your knees between his. Neither of you bothered to face the screen anymore, both turned to face the other. Harry leaned against the bar, elbow propped against it as he took his lip between his thumb and forefinger, considering the next bet he wanted to make. “Lions score and you’ll give me a kiss.” His voice was gruff with the desire he felt to have your lips between his. You eyed him and he needed no explanation. “S’a win-win fo’ me.” You had never cared less about a football game as you did in this moment, yet you turned to watch your team line up and hoped against all hope that they’d pull one out for you. And even if they didn’t, you’d come up with a reason to kiss Harry anyway, but it’d be more fun if it happened this way. And as if the football gods were looking down upon you themselves, your quarterback dodged around his defenders, lobbed the ball high in the air and it fell gracefully into the waiting hands of the wide receiver who turned and ran eighteen-yards for the touchdown. As cheers and high-fives were exchanged around you, you vacated your seat to stand between Harry’s legs. His hands came to rest on your lower back as you held his face in yours, pushing back a soft curl of dark hair behind his ear. You held each other for a minute, just looking into one another’s eyes and feeling the rise and fall of each other’s bodies before you pressed forward and bound your lips to his. Harry kissed back softly, his warm lips tasting slightly of the beer he’d been drinking. You ran your tongue against his lip, begging to be let in further to see if the taste permeated throughout. He parted, allowing you entrance and you found the beer taste was still evident, but it didn’t taint him fully. There was still a hint of spice from his gum, and underneath a flavor so unlikely anything you’d ever experienced before that you’d forever remember as pure Harry. His large hands squeezed you closer as you continued to kiss and eventually you wound up on his lap, arms looped gingerly around his neck as the two of you continued to explore each other’s mouths. You’d kissed for what felt like hours, but couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes as halftime was now over. Both your lips were a bit pinker, a bit plumper, and a bit more chapped as you pulled back. Harry ran a finger across your bottom lip as you looked down at him with sleepy eyes. Both of you were debating if you should just say screw it about the game and find somewhere more quiet where you could explore the other areas of your bodies, but you both cared just a bit too much about football. You continued to watch the game from your perch on Harry’s lap, allowing his hands to wander and caress your sides. Between commercials, sly kisses were exchanged. A few more bets had been made, causing you to lose your hoodie and Harry to buy another round of drinks. As the fourth quarter started, teams tied, you decided to go for it. “Harry,” you murmured, pulling his attention back to you before kickoff. “Final bet?” “Lay it on me.” You swiveled a bit on his lap, letting your ass brush and rest a bit closer to his member as you turned to face him. “If the Lions win…” He waited with bated breath. “You’ll eat me in that bathroom.” You pointed behind you, indicating exactly where you wanted the act to take place. His breath hitched, lips pursing a bit. “And when the Packers win?” You contemplated for a second. “S’pose it can go both ways. I’ll suck you off.” An appreciative sigh escaped Harry’s lips, his hold on you going a bit slack. You wiggled a bit on top of him and felt him growing beneath you. “S’not fair,” he whined. “What?” “You can feel me, but I can’t feel you.” Desire had been pooling heavily between your thighs all night, it was a wonder some hadn’t seeped through to puddle on Harry’s lap. With a coy lick of your lips, you responded quietly. “Then I guess you better hope my team wins so you can feel me.” “S’nother one of yeh win-wins,” he muttered as you slid off of him, stretching your legs a bit before leaning against the bar on your elbows, your ass not-so-subtly on display for him. “Quit it,” he growled, giving a harsh pat to your bum to straighten you out. “S’like you want me on display.” With a smirk, you shrugged keeping your eyes plastered to the screen. His black jeans were sheathing his massive hard-on well, but only to those who didn’t know what was going on. When you looked, all you could see was the outline of his thick cock, the shape of which made it evident he was uncut—something of a rarity ‘round these parts. Despite yourself, you almost hoped your team lost so you could experience pealing him back to reveal his bulbous head before worshiping him with your tongue. You kicked yourself later when, drive after drive, the Packers dominated. They seemed to be everywhere, forcing turnovers, catching interceptions, and, of course, scoring. The game had turned into an absolute blowout. As your mood soured, Harry had stalled his ribbing, taking to rubbing the small of your back comfortingly every time you swore at the tv. And when you downed your drink after a particularly embarrassing interception and consequent touchdown, Harry ordered you another—not one of the orange, but a pop. “Fuck,” you sighed, sitting down hard in your chair as the seconds ticked down and the game ended. “What’s the point of even being in the playoffs if they’re just gonna drop the first game? Might as well have lost out and gotten a decent draft pick.” “Hey, summat’s gotta give,” Harry said, caressing your arm. “They’re not gonna stay winless at Lambeau forever. Next match just might be it.” You faced Harry. Kindness radiated through him. He was so sweet. You stood, coming between his legs as you had been earlier and gripped his hand. All around you, the other bar patrons had either left or began drowning their sorrows in alcohol. No one was paying any attention to the two of you. A man had just come out of the single person bathroom, so you knew the coast was clear. It was time to make good on your bet. “C’mon,” you said, tugging him by the hand. Confusion crossed Harry’s face as he got to his feet. “Wha’?” You nodded in the direction of the bathroom while biting your lower lip. You wanted to forget about this horrible game. And you wanted to taste Harry. Really taste him. “Hey, no, we’ve not got to—” “C’mon, Harry, before someone occupies the bathroom.” You pulled harder on his hand, willing him to follow you, but he stayed rooted to the spot. “Really, we don’t have to. S’alright. Just a silly bet, s’all.” He let you hold his hand, his free one moving to stuff awkwardly in his pocket. He shuffled on his feet. His jeans were still pulled tightly over his bulge, and you knew his cock must have been throbbing; yet, he genuinely was willing to forget it all, not wanting to make you keep any promise you may no longer want to. Which only made you want to get your lips around him even more. You pressed yourself against him, giving him a hard kiss that you hope conveyed your deep desire to take him in your mouth. “A bet’s a bet,” you reminded him. And this time when you tugged him along behind you, he followed. Any reluctance Harry was feeling quickly dissolved as you locked yourselves away in the bathroom. You had him pinned against the wall, hands roaming his body as you exchanged feverish kisses. A low whine came from Harry as you undid the button on his jeans and relieved some of the pressure on his erection. Dipping your hand into the front of his boxers, you gripped him tightly, earning a moan from him. “Fuck, you’re big,” you sighed, lust dripping off each word. Harry could barely keep his eyes open they were so heavy with desire. His mouth hung open slightly as his breathing grew shallow. A million different responses ran through his mind, but none of them were good enough, so he just closed his eyes in satisfaction, letting his head lull back against the wall. You left a trail of blazing kisses down his throat and lifted his jersey slightly to continue down his belly. You kissed around the ink of his tattoos as you sunk down to your knees and tugged his jeans and boxers down with you. Holding your thumb and forefinger together, you circled him, but shit he was so thick your fingers were practically miles apart. Harry shivered from your touch as you marveled at his size. You pushed back the foreskin a bit, revealing only a portion of his tip and placed a soft kiss right at the slit. Harry whined. You rubbed the tip of him against your tongue before taking him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around him to coat him completely. Pulling back, you let him pop out of your mouth while maintaining a light grip on him. Now that he was properly covered in your saliva, you worked your hand on him moving the skin of him on and off, back and forth, over his sensitive head. “Fuck,” Harry moaned, his hands curling into fists at his sides as he pounded the wall with him. “I thought American girls didn’t know their way around an uncut cock?” “Some of us are curious,” you responded, before returning him to your mouth. As you bobbed on him, you sucked your cheeks in, creating a nice suction that made Harry feel like he could come at any second. Could, not would, but goddamn it felt good. Hesitantly, he reached a hand into your hair, stroking his fingers into your strands. He didn’t want to overstep or offend you, but you absolved all his worries as you positively hummed on his cock over his touch. You started to get a bit creative with your moves by swirling your tongue inside his foreskin lightly, which caused Harry to moan and buck his hips into your mouth. “Sorry, sorry!” he sputtered. “Just—Jesus, that felt good.” So you did it again and again until you were satisfied with Harry’s grunts and whines. As you cupped his balls and continued to lick and suck on his member, both his hands wove deeper into your hair. He pushed you gently along to your own rhythm, and when you chanced a glance up at him you could tell he was completely done for; Harry’s eyes were closed, his mouth open slightly as he leaned back against the wall, breathy words tumbling out his lips. “Tha’s right, love…tha’s good…oh fuck jus’ like tha’…” You sucked your cheeks in and gripped his shaft a bit tighter as you moved his foreskin in the opposite direction that your mouth moved in. Harry looked down at you in astonishment—no one had ever done that to him before. And he quite liked it. “More?” he begged. So you continued. And his thighs stiffened while his core tightened. “Fuck, babe…gonna make me…gonna make me come.” Hearing him begin to unravel encouraged you further. You sucked enthusiastically, licked eagerly, gripped zealously, doing everything you could to let him know you were ready for him. “Shit, babe, really…Gonna fuckin’ come. Better ge’off.” He attempted to push you off him to save you from taking all of him in your mouth, but you wouldn’t budge. You wouldn’t even take a second to let him know that, no, you wanted this; you just kept your pace. “Babe, really. I’m gonna—you’ve not got to—” And with a flick of your tongue over his slit, Harry was lost. His hips bucked, his grip on your hair tightened as he fucked your mouth, letting every last salty drop fill your mouth. You sucked, taking it all in stride and savoring the flavor. Now this was pure Harry. He slumped against the wall as he finished, his cock loosening from between your lips. With closed eyes, he wiped at his forehead as you sat back on your heels, looking up at him. “Won’t be offended if yeh don’t swallow,” he murmured. But as his eyes slowly opened and he caught you licking the corner of your lips, your mouth beautifully empty, he felt like he could get hard again. With a, what Harry would call, a cheeky grin and a devilish waggle of your eyebrows, you asked, “Swallow what?”

tell me how you liked it masterlist This Only Looks Like Love - Chapter 8

[beldin327]

Touching the Void by Padraic Harrison Act I Scene I

ACT I SCENE I

(The stage is dark.  Suddenly from the dark we hear a scream.  Red lights illuminate the stage.  Center stage is the source of the scream, a male in his late teens named Ziggy.  Three figures, two male and one female, all in black surround him.  The two men are Malcolm and Albert and the woman is Roberta.  Rebecca is next to Ziggy.)

Mal: It so easy to upset these creatures.

Al: You say that as if it were a bad thing.

R: Why does it make a sound when it feels pain?  What is the purpose?

Al: I don’t know but I like it.  It’s like music.

Reb: Zig, it’s Zag.  Stay with me, Zig.  Fight it, Zig, fight it

Ziggy: I can’t.

Reb: Yes, you can.  Don’t let them win.

Mal: The other one is here again.

Al: Strange.  It doesn’t derive pleasure from watching the subject suffer.

R: It feels sorry for the subject.

Ziggy: Please, just go away.

Reb: That’s it, Zig.

R: It thinks we can be beaten.  Silence, subject Z.  (Ziggy opens his mouth but can’t make any sound the Voices laugh.)

Reb: Talk to me, Zig.  What’s going on?  (Malcolm whispers in Ziggy’s ear.)

Ziggy: The hands of the clock are wrong.

Reb: Zig!  It’s Zag.  Zig, do you know where you are?

R: My turn.  (She whispers in his ear.)

Ziggy: Turn the key.  Turn the key to open the door.

Al: It’s almost too easy.  Let’s give it time to recover.  We wouldn’t want it dead, now would we?

Mal: Not yet.  (They exit.)

Ziggy: It’s over, they left.

Reb: Come here.  (She holds him as he shakes from exhaustion.) It’s okay, Zig.  It’s okay.  (The lights change to illuminate a dorm room. Ziggy walks into the scene and sits next to Bill, a male his age.  Bill wears jeans, a white t-shirt, and combat boots.  His hair is dyed blond.)

Bill: What’s it like?

Ziggy: Having a pseudo-seizure?

Bill: Yeah.

Ziggy: It’s like being in a cage.  You can see and hear everything going around you but you’re powerless to stop it

Bill: Weird.  What do the voices say?

Ziggy: They command me to do things.  And I can’t resist.

Bill: Sounds scary.

Ziggy: You have no idea.

Bill: Do they know what causes it?

Ziggy: Fuckin’ doctors.  They don’t know shit.  Oh sure, they have theories but they don’t actually know.

Bill: What’s the theory?

Ziggy: Stress.

Bill: Do they ever hurt?

Ziggy: No, but sometimes…

Bill: Sometimes what?

Ziggy: Sometimes, I feel like they should.  That probably doesn’t make any sense to you.

Bill: It makes perfect sense.  (Enter Jenny and Hiram.)

H: Hey, guys, what’s up?

Bill: Not much. What are you up to?

H: Nothing.  We were in Jenny’s room but Robin and Brian are “busy.”

Bill: Again?  Don’t they ever do anything else?  Like homework perhaps?

Jenny: Jealous?

Bill: I just don’t think sex is a good thing to build a relationship on.

Jenny: I never thought I’d hear those words come out of a straight man.

Bill: What can I say?  I’m just a hopeless romantic.

Jenny: Hey, Z.

Ziggy: Don’t call me that.

Jenny: I’m sorry.  I, I didn’t mean to—

Ziggy: (still angry) It’s fine.  Don’t worry about it.

H: (awkward silence) Soooooo, how ‘bout them Packers?

Bill: What?

H: Just something one of my friends at home says when ever there’s a lull in conversation.

Bill: Why?

H: He thinks it’s funny.

Jenny: Sounds like an interesting guy.

H: Ever see a six foot five Navy sailor in full dress uniform dancing to Mariah Carey?

Bill: Can’t say I have.

H: Then you’ve never truly lived.  Like you said, Jenny, he’s an interesting guy.

Jenny: But it’s ironic, right?  He doesn’t actually enjoy her music, does he?

H: Oh, he does.

Jenny: Is he straight?

H: Very.

Jenny: Where’d you meet him?

H: (as if obvious) Charleston.  I only live half an hour away.

Jenny: That means nothing to me.

Ziggy: Charleston, South Carolina is where Navy nuclear technicians go for training.

Jenny: I didn’t know that.

H: It’s okay.  I’m just used to everyone knowing.

Bill: My parents want me to join the armed services.

Jenny: Which branch?

Bill: Well, at first it was the Marines but now they’re saying it should be the Army.

H: No offense, Bill, but I don’t think you’d last very long in the military.

Bill: That’s what I said.  They think it’ll toughen me up or some bullshit.

Jenny: Don’t most people join up before they go to college?

Bill: I managed to convince them this way would be better.  See, if I got discharged I wouldn’t be able to pay for college.  But this way I’ll have something to do in the event I get discharged.  Of course, if my grades aren’t impressive they’ll pull me out and refuse to pay for college, which means I have to find the money on my own and the military would look pretty tempting.

Jenny: What’s your major?

Bill: (Smiling ironically) Theatre.

Ziggy: Maine won the Civil War.

H: Huh?

Bill: H, do you know what he’s talking about?

H: Not at all.

Jenny: Little Round Top.

Bill: What ever happened to sequiturs?

H: I think they went out with hammer pants.

Jenny: During the Battle of Gettysburg the Union soldiers retreated to a hill called Little Round Top where the 20th Maine was.  They were the North’s last line of defense against the South.  They couldn’t retreat.  They were ordered to die to the last man if necessary.  And not only did they hold the line, they won the battle.  And it turned the tide of the war in the Union’s favor.

H: Where did you learn this?

Jenny: I’m from Philly.  You know, Pennsylvania.

Bill: What does the Civil War have to do anything?

H: Good point.  Ziggy, why did you bring this up?  (Ziggy remains silent.)

Jenny: Things we expect everyone should know.

Bill: Well, we certainly proved the point.

H: Ziggy, are you okay?  (Ziggy nods.) You went quiet all of a sudden.  (Ziggy shrugs.)

Jenny: (She stands) I think they must be finished by now.  Bryan will be anyway. Goodnight, guys.  ‘Night, Ziggy.

Bill: Later.

H: Auf Wiedersehen.

Ziggy: Bye.  (Jenny exits.)

Bill: You wanna tell me what the hell that was about?

Ziggy: What?

Bill: Oh, so you can talk.

Ziggy: What’s your point?

H: You were channeling Marcelle Marceau.

Ziggy: I didn’t have anything to say.

H: (rushes over to feel his forehead) No sign of fever.  But it could be a tumor.

Ziggy: Get off me.  I feel fine.

Bill: You aren’t acting like it.  First you blow up because Jenny—ohhhhhhhh. (He laughs.)

Ziggy: I don’t have a crush on her.

H: (smirking) Nobody said you did, Ziggy.

Ziggy: Just don’t tell her, okay?

H: Of course not, but you’ll have to tell her eventually.

Ziggy: (sarcastically) Oh, that’ll be a wonderful conversation.  Excuse me, Jenny, how would you like to go out with a complete loser with self-esteem issues?  C’mon, guys, Jenny’s smart and gorgeous.  She’s out of my league.

H: Awwww.  He’s so cute when he’s oblivious.

Bill: You gotta wonder how someone so smart can be so dumb.

H: Well, he is from Maine.

Bill: They still have girls in Maine.

H: That’s true.

Ziggy: You do know I’m right here?

H: (Ignoring him) Do you think he’s figured it out?

Bill: I think we have to tell him.

H: He still won’t believe us.

Bill: But he has a right to know.

Ziggy: (exasperated) What the hell are you trying to say?

H: (to Bill) May I?

Bill: Please.

H: She digs you.

Ziggy: Next you’re going to tell me you’re straight.

Bill: Glass half empty much?

Ziggy: You guys really think she’s into me?

H: Have I ever lied to you?

Ziggy: We’ve only known each other a month.

H: But have I lied to you?

Ziggy: No.

H: So trust me.

Ziggy: (stands up) I’m going to the library to do some reading.  Later.

H: See ya.

Bill: Have fun.

Ziggy: Oh, I will.  (Exits.)

Bill: Why’s he study so much?

H: He’s applying for a scholarship. Without it he can’t come back next year.

Bill: That shouldn’t be a problem.

H: Well, he wasn’t exactly studious in high school.  He barely graduated.

Bill: The seizures?

H: That’s part of it.  He tell you about Rebecca?

Bill: Not the whole thing, just that she was pure evil.

H: He got so wrapped up in her that he stopped paying attention to his grades.

Bill: How’d he get in if he had such bad grades?

H: His essays were fucking brilliant.  Trust me, I read them.  (Looks at his watch) Shit, gotta go.

Bill: GSA?

H: Yeah.

Bill: Can I stay here?  The beast is in my room.

H: Still not getting along with your roomie?

Bill: Not even a little.

H: Don’t break my stuff.

Bill: I’ll try not to.  (H exits.  Bill walks over to a bookshelf and selects a graphic novel deliberately, after some thought from Ziggy’s collection.  He sits on the bed and begins to read.  There’s a knock.)

Bill: Enter.  (Robin, Jenny’s roommate enters.)

Robin: Is H here?

Bill: GSA meeting.

Robin: Oh.  (Pause) My name’s Robin, by the way

Bill: Jenny’s roommate?

Robin: Yeah.

Bill: (Pause) I’m Bill.

Robin: Oh.  (Pause) I’ll just leave then.

Bill: Nah, stay.  I mean, if you want to.

Robin: I don’t want to bother you.

Bill: It wouldn’t be a bother.  I’m only reading a comic.

Robin: (sits) Thanks.  (Pause) How do you know Jenny?

Bill: We had orientation together.  (Pause) How’d you meet H?

Robin: Through Jenny.  (Pause) Have you picked a major yet?

Bill: Acting.

Robin: Getting a degree in starving to death?

Bill: Yeah.  You?

Robin: Art or art history.  Can’t really decide.

Bill: Art history people are pretentious assholes.  I mean, the ones here. I mean—

Robin: It’s okay, I agree with you.  But if I major in that I can actually feed myself.

Bill: Food is overrated.  Dignity is more important.

Robin: Living in a cardboard box is dignified?

Bill: At least you can decorate the cardboard box.  (Pause) You okay?

Robin: Bryan dumped me.

Bill: Oh.  (Pause) And this is a bad thing?

Robin: What?

Bill: I’m just saying the guy’s a douche.  You do know he was cheating on you right?

Robin: I didn’t.

Bill: Oh.

Robin: How do you know this and I don’t?

Bill: Everybody knew.

Robin: This day just keeps getting better.

Bill: Sorry, I was actually trying to cheer you up.

Robin: So far you’re doing a wonderful job.

Bill: Sorry.  I just think you can do better.

Robin: What makes you think that?  We just met.  I could be an axe murderer for all you know.

Bill: I may not know you but I know Bryan.  He’s a prick.  A dumb prick.

Robin: (Abruptly) Bill, are you hitting on me?

Bill: (cockily) Maybe.

Robin: Is your normal strategy to bash the ex-boyfriend?

Bill: I’m trying something new.

Robin: How’s it working out so far?

Bill: You haven’t run away screaming so that’s a good sign.

Robin: Not very subtle.

Bill: But it works.

Robin: Oh, really?  Maybe I’m just being polite.

Bill: You’re not.

Robin: How can you be so sure?

Bill: No woman has the power to resist William T. Sanders.

Robin: I see.  Then I’m doomed.  What’s the T stand for?

Bill: Terrence, my mom-- (She leaves her chair and sits next to him.) Wh--

Robin: Shh.  Don’t speak.  (She leans on him and he strokes her hair.  The lights on the set dim as Bill walks into the foreground. The lights on the stage are red.  Drums play as the Gremlin enters.  The Gremlin wears a mask with an absurdly long nose and claws. He holds a knife.  Bill is sitting on the stage; the gremlin circles around him. Bill rocks back and forth.)

Bill: Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? O, o, o, for a muse of fire.  G-g-g-gallop apace you f-f-fiery footed steeds.  All, all, all is lost.  It is the-the-the cause.  I (as in if), If you prick us do we not bleed?  No, no, no, don’t think of blood. Blood is bad, very bad. Bad.  Bad Bill.  Must be punished.  No, focus, Bill.  You can get through this.  If it were done, if it were done, if it were done ‘twere well it were done quickly (the Gremlin and Bill stare at each other.) O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I. (Addressing the Gremlin) Help me!  (The Gremlin offers Bill the knife) Just a little cut (as he reaches out for it). A tiny one.  Just deep enough to know.  No!  I can, I can fight this.  No, no I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.  (He takes the knife. The Gremlin cackles as the lights fade.)

[vladdyissues]

How long have you written/drawn for in the Phandom?

Just a little over a year. I saw some incredible fanart by @the-stove-is-on-fire in December of 2022 and then I went hunting for more, which led me from Tumblr to AO3, which led to me reading a couple fics, which led me to beginning my own fic, which led to me drawing some art, which led to me watching the series, which led to me downloading the series and making gifs, which led me to joining a Discord, which led to me making this blog, which led to me writing meta, which led to me buying the graphic novel last July, which led to—

Anyway. How 'bout them Packers ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

[racingtoaredlight]

RTARL’s 2020 NFL Season Week 5 Extravapalooza

My 13-year-old nephew was visiting this weekend, and he decided he wanted to become an NFL fan. In his short time on Earth, he’s lived in England, Montana, Georgia, Guam, and Connecticut, so he doesn’t really have strong regional ties anywhere. My brother and I are New Englanders, and since they now live in Connecticut, the Patriots seemed like a logical choice. But, he wasn’t feeling it. He has a fascination with New York City, so I helpfully told him that NYC has TWO teams he could choose from. He was excited, and settled on the Jets. Years from now, when he’s bigger and stronger than me, he will stuff me in a garbage can for setting him down the path of New York Jets fandom, and I will totally deserve it.

BONUS LINK THAT I FOUND INTERESTING: Scoring is way up in the NFL so far in 2020, and this post on 538 tries to figure out both why that is, and which teams benefit the most from this high-scoring and aggressive environment.

My picks are in BOLD, and the lines come to us courtesy of our friends at Vegas Insider. I use the “VI Consensus” line, which is the line that occurs most frequently across Vegas Insider’s list of sportsbooks. Your sportsbook of choice may offer a different number, and if you’d like my opinion on said number A) you are insane, and B) leave a comment below and I’ll try to answer at some point before things kickoff today. 

EARLY GAMES

Philadelphia Eagles at Pittsburgh Steelers (-7)

I saw a Smart Football Knower on Twitter saying that the Steelers defensive line leads the NFL in “pass rush win rate,” and that Carson Wentz has been the worst QB in the league when under pressure. That seems less than ideal for Philly, and it’s good enough for me to lay the points here.

Carolina Panthers at Atlanta Falcons (-2)

The Packers’ ruthless stomping of the Falcons this past Monday probably choked out any hope and crushed whatever will Atlanta had, and they’re doomed to spend the rest of the season listlessly playing out the string and losing to less-talented squads like Carolina....IS JUST WHAT ATLANTA WANTS YOU TO THINK! I’m not falling for it and neither should you.

Las Vegas Raiders at Kansas City Chiefs (-11.5)

Kill them, Patrick. Make them regret they were ever born. It’s crazy that as good as the Chiefs have been, it still feels like they haven’t played at their full planet-destroying potential for a whole game yet. Doing so this week against the hated Raiders would make me a happy man, all because the Raiders have had the audacity to ruin my picks more than any other team over the last couple of seasons. Well, it sure SEEMS like they have, anyway. I suppose I could actually go back and check to see if the numbers bear this out, but that seems like far more work than I’m willing to put in. It’s way easier just to hate them in blissful ignorance.

Jacksonville Jaguars at Houston Texans (-5.5)

I’m happy for Texans fans finally being rid of Bill O’Brien, but this team still has issues and I’m gonna need to see drastically improved performance on the field before I raise them above “Trash” in my personal power rankings. Also:

Arizona Cardinals (-7) at New York Jets

The Jets had their own coronavirus scare yesterday when one of their players popped a positive test result. Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, it turned out to be a false positive, so game on. Allow me to be the 1,000th person to make the joke that Adam Gase purposely tried to infect his team in order to get this game postponed, so that he may live to coach another week.

Los Angeles Rams (-7) at Washington Football Team

It’s COMPLETELY insane that Alex Smith is the #2 QB for Washington in this game. He has drop foot! His leg is made of paper mache!  Alex Smith entering the game to the deafening silence of a fanless stadium and immediately having his leg destroyed again would be the most Washington Football Team thing imaginable. 

Cincinnati Bengals at Baltimore Ravens (-12.5)

Cincinnati’s 8-time Pro Bowl defensive tackle Geno Atkins will be making his season debut in this one, and that should be enough for the Bengals defense to contain Ravens QB Lamar Jackson. Hahahaha, just kidding. This pick is based purely on my potentially misguided faith in super cool new kid Joe Burrow and his ability to put up enough points in garbage time to hit an infuriating backdoor cover. 

LATE GAMES

Miami Dolphins at San Francisco 49ers (-8)

San Francisco is 2-2, they’ve had an absurdly easy schedule so far, and they’ve also been decimated by injuries. Tough to get a read on these fellas. I’m inclined to believe they’ll round into form and make a nice playoff run, but it might take a bit for them to get into rhythm as they reintegrate their returning players. I think the Dolphins are plenty frisky enough to make this a legit scrap.

Indianapolis Colts (PK) at Cleveland Browns

Is it just me or is Indy Phillip Rivers infinitely less charming than San Diego Phillip? I don’t even know why I feel this way, he’s the same loudmouthed redass as before, but the Colt version just seems so bland. Maybe it’s the missing lightning bolts on the helmet/uniform. Those really do add pizazz to everything. Like everyone else, I very much enjoyed the Browns deploying multiple gadget plays in their thrashing of Dallas, but I’m not sure it’s a good sign that they felt the need to bust out so many of them against a truly ghastly Cowboy defense. Baker Mayfield still wasn’t all that great in that game (19-30, 165 yds and 2 TDs), so it’s tough for me to say the Cleveland offense has actually turned any sort of corner, especially with the loss of Nick Chubb.

New York Giants at Dallas Cowboys (-8.5)

I assumed this game was gonna be on FOX and I was excited at the prospect of Uber-Crotchety Troy Aikman making an appearance as he finally loses it completely and shits all over a poor Cowboys performance and the NFC East as a whole, but it turns out this is getting the CBS Romo/Nantz treatment. So, now I think we’re gonna get a hefty dose of Gigglin’ Tony as Dak throws for another 450 in a blowout win. Is this sound reasoning for making picks? Absolutely not.

SNF: Minnesota Vikings at Seattle Seahawks (-7)

Once again, the Seahawks find themselves in the game with the highest over/under for the week (56). Giddy up! Vikings QB Kurt Cousins finally showed faint signs of life last week in a win over Houston, and a meeting with Seattle’s worst-in-the-league secondary should fully unleash the dragon. Among a fantastic-looking rookie class of WRs, Minnesota’s Justin Jefferson is quietly emerging as the best of the bunch. GEAUX TIGUHS!

MNF (Early): Denver Broncos at New England Patriots (-8)

As of now, the Broncos and Pats are scheduled to kick off at 5:00 PM on Monday night, but this could obviously be derailed by another positive COVID-19 test result from New England (or Denver, I guess). There’s also a question as to whether or not Cam Newton will be allowed to start at QB for the Patriots. Since Cam’s infection has been asymptomatic, he’s allowed to resume playing either A) ten days after his initial positive test or B) five days after his initial test, but with two consecutive negative tests 24-hours apart. Cam tested positive on Oct. 2, and the game is set for Oct. 12. 

This game is off the board at sportsbooks right now, but Vegas Insider pulled that Pats -8 from somewhere, so fuck it I’ll take a crack at it. I’m picking the Broncos to cover based on my assumption that Cam will NOT play, because believe it or not emotionless cyborg Bill Belichick has been one of the more progressive coaches at any level of football in terms of taking COVID-19 seriously. Low bar to clear, but still. 

UPDATE: This game has now been postponed as another Patriot has tested positive for COVID-19.

MNF (Late): Los Angeles Chargers at New Orleans Saints (-8)

The Saints appear to be getting healthier, with WR Michael Thomas, TE Jared Cook, CB Marshon Lattimore, offensive linemen Andrus Peat and Ryan Ramczyk, defensive linemen Marcus Davenport and Trey Hendrickson, and safety Malcolm Jenkins all returning to practice, albeit in limited fashion. But, the Justin Herbert-led Chargers have lost their three games by a combined 15 points, and they’ve looked extremely feisty each week, including decent stretches where they were in control against both the mighty Chiefs and championship-contender Buccaneers. Eight points is too many, in my opinion. Have I mentioned that I love Justin Herbert? What a dreamboat.

Tuesday: Buffalo Bills (-6.5) at Tennessee Titans

Much like the Patriots/Broncos game, this game isn’t being offered at sportsbooks as of right now. But, in my relentless commitment to consequence-free handicapping with no discernible benefit to me personally, I’m gonna pick it using the Vegas Insider line provided. 

It’s a real shame the coronavirus has turned this game into such a redheaded stepchild, because it’s a seriously tasty matchup. The Bills are on track to welcome excellent CB Tre’Davious White back, which is great news for a defense that’s been much shittier than expected so far. Tennessee’s best WR A.J. Brown is still listed as Questionable with a knee injury after missing the Titans’ last game (Week 3), and on top of that WRs Corey Davis and Adam Humphries are question marks due to testing positive for COVID-19. Not great! But, the Titans do still have Derrick Henry and a great offensive line, and as I mentioned before the Bills D has been butt so far this season. I think the Titans will still be able to move the ball effectively and eat up clock even with their potentially depleted pass-catching corps. Dare I say we’re in for some SMASH-MOUTH FOOTBALL?! Somewhere, John Madden just used a marker to telestrate a Halfback Dive on the nearest wall. BOOM!

Now for some stupid jokes! Hey, how ‘bout this Titans team holding outlaw practices and keeping their in-house plague going? More like TENNESSEE TYPHOIDS, amiright? If this game is canceled due to another positive test by Tennessee, you can always get your football fix by watching the classic film Remdesivir the Titans!

*thanks to Gov. Mike Huckabeav for helping me with that last paragraph

UPDATE: Another member of the Titans organization has tested positive, and their facilities have been closed down once again. This game seems perilously close to being postponed/canceled. Son of a bitch.

Last Week’s Record: 4-7-2

Season Record: 30-25-4

[junker-town]

Damarious Randall has to a buy sooooo many jerseys if the Cavs win the NBA Finals

How much would it cost Randall to pay for his jersey promise if the Cavs beat the Warriors?

Damarious Randall hasn’t yet played a game with the Cleveland Browns after he was traded from the Green Bay Packers in March, but he’s already drawing plenty of attention for his NBA opinions.

Instead of supporting the hometown Cleveland Cavaliers, Randall has been a vocal supporter of the Golden State Warriors:

I’m glad the Cavs made it to the finals so I can watch Curry light that bitch up Game 3 & 4 ‍♂️

— Damarious Randall (@RandallTime) May 28, 2018

And he’s really confident the Warriors will beat the Cavaliers in the NBA Finals, which begin Thursday:

If the Cleveland Cavaliers win the 2018 NBA finals I’ll buy everyone who retweet’s this a jersey...

— Damarious Randall (@RandallTime) May 29, 2018

As of the publishing of this post, Randall’s tweet has eclipsed 300,000 retweets. That’s a LOT of jerseys. And the Browns defensive back says there’s a 100 percent chance he delivers on the promise.

Update: On Wednesday, he said the tweet wasn’t serious.

“I definitely didn’t think the Cleveland fan base would go this crazy about it,” Randall said, via ESPN’s Pat McManamon. “Obviously, it is a joke. Just to know how passionate this fan base is, it is really encouraging.”

Update 2: The Cavs didn’t win, so Randall is off the hook. But he made a jersey donation anyway, bringing boxes of his Browns jersey to a local Boys and Girls Club:

.@RandallTime didn't have to buy a million Cavs jerseys. But he did team up with @Fanatics to donate a bunch of #23 @Browns jerseys to his local Boys & Girls Club @Clevekids.#HardKnocksNow pic.twitter.com/kVwsop4MKF

— NFL Films (@NFLFilms) August 15, 2018

But what would the logistics of that kind of jersey giveaway look like? Let’s imagine:

There’s just no way he can afford to buy new Cavs jerseys for everyone

Randall has been an up-and-down player so far in his NFL career, but the Browns already picked up his fifth-year option so he’s not set to free agency until 2020. He’ll move to safety after three years of playing cornerback in Green Bay, and if Randall excels in his new role, he could be on his way toward a sizable contract.

For now, though, he’s set to make $1,090,381 in base salary in 2018 with a $424,037 roster bonus. As Randall’s former teammate Davante Adams pointed out, that’s not going to cut it.

Right now your bill bout 10 mill lol no bullshit

— Davante Adams (@tae15adams) May 29, 2018

At the time Adams tweeted that, he might’ve been right. The number of retweets has continued to climb, though.

On NBA.com, a replica LeBron James jersey is priced at $74.99. Multiply that by the 300,000 people who have retweeted so far and that’s a cool $22.5 million.

But Randall didn’t specify what kind of jersey he’d buy

If the Cavs win, Randall’s best chance at actually paying up and not squelching on the bet is to be creative. Randall told everyone he’d buy them a jersey — he didn’t promise that it’d be a nice one.

On NFLShop.com there are some truly awful Browns memorabilia up for sale. Randall could save a lot if he goes digging through the graveyard of Cleveland past to scoop up Brandon Weeden, Trent Richardson, Peyton Hillis, and Colt McCoy jerseys.

But he could go even cheaper. Randall could find the kind of blank practice jerseys that a high school would buy for dodgeball in gym class. Purchase in bulk and just a couple dollars per jersey is doable.

But that’s still going to be a lot of cash.

Let’s go way outside the box, then. What if Randall gave out coupons for some free Jersey Mike’s? That’s close enough, yeah?

How would a free jersey giveaway even work?

Congratulations person who retweeted Damarious Randall, it’s the near future and the Cavaliers just became NBA champions. Now what? Do you DM him your address or something?

What if you retweeted him after the Cavs won? Was he jotting down the names of people who retweeted him while the offer was still open?

Randall could drop jerseys all across Cleveland out of a helicopter, but his promise was to each person who retweeted him. I have no clue how that could ever be policed. Apparently we’re going to find out either way, thanks to former Browns offensive tackle Joe Thomas.

I’m so confident in my @cavs, if the @warriors win the 2018 NBA finals, I’ll buy anyone who retweets this a signed @StephenCurry30 gameworn jersey. Even you @RandallTime. @KingJames https://t.co/zsQp3LxGbu

— Joe Thomas (@joethomas73) May 30, 2018

Luckily for Randall, there’s a strong likelihood he won’t have to pay up. As of right now, the Warriors are huge favorites to beat the Cavs in the NBA Finals.

But if the Cavs pull off the upset, sorry retweeters, there’s just no way you’re getting a new James jersey in the mail. You’d be lucky even to get a laptop battery like Scott’s Tots.