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Cockroach?????

Posted: Sun Oct 12, 2008 8:06 am
by ServiteFan
It is officially Servite-Mater Dei Week. Where is Roach? His annual inspirational message was always a highlight for me.

C'mon back, Roach! I'll turn the light off for ya....

Re: Cockroach?????

Posted: Sun Oct 12, 2008 8:11 am
by kevinhurl
ServiteFan wrote:It is officially Servite-Mater Dei Week. Where is Roach? His annual inspirational message was always a highlight for me.

C'mon back, Roach! I'll turn the light off for ya....

It would be nice to see Roach out here. C'mon Roach don't be a wuss. :lol:

Re: Cockroach?????

Posted: Sun Oct 12, 2008 8:22 am
by SoMelo
kevinhurl wrote:

It would be nice to see Roach out here. C'mon Roach don't be a wuss. :lol:
Yeah.. name calling will bring him out for sure :roll:

Re: Cockroach?????

Posted: Sun Oct 12, 2008 8:31 am
by kevinhurl
Julius wrote:
Yeah.. name calling will bring him out for sure :roll:

Pipe down Julius...It's worked in the past. :lol:

Re: Cockroach?????

Posted: Sun Oct 12, 2008 9:00 am
by UncleRico
ServiteFan wrote:It is officially Servite-Mater Dei Week. Where is Roach? His annual inspirational message was always a highlight for me.

C'mon back, Roach! I'll turn the light off for ya....
Well Servite Fanatic,

You are correct sir. The week of weeks. One of Fifty Two. Black -vs- Red. Seats -vs- Concrete. They say there is a little game down in South County this week. Tell us how that rivalry is going in about thirty years.

I have info that there will be another "My date with Rollo". Very difficult to top the first "My date with Rollo". I believe it may take place in the next night or two, possibly tonight. I have a gut feeling it will be somewhere central, my guess is Moreno's in Orange.

Where do you think the get together will take place?

Give me your thoughts. We all miss Roach.


YFU

Re: Cockroach?????

Posted: Sun Oct 12, 2008 9:38 am
by slowyoroll
Last I heard he was moving to Brazil to open up a coconut stand on the beach with some hot girl. True story.




Kicks

Re: Cockroach?????

Posted: Sun Oct 12, 2008 9:39 am
by Yoda
UncleRico wrote:
Well Servite Fanatic,

You are correct sir. The week of weeks. One of Fifty Two. Black -vs- Red. Seats -vs- Concrete. They say there is a little game down in South County this week. Tell us how that rivalry is going in about thirty years.

I have info that there will be another "My date with Rollo". Very difficult to top the first "My date with Rollo". I believe it may take place in the next night or two, possibly tonight. I have a gut feeling it will be somewhere central, my guess is Moreno's in Orange.

Where do you think the get together will take place?

Give me your thoughts. We all miss Roach.


YFU
One and the same, considering you and Roach are. Sure your prediction will come true, I am. Hmmmmmm. :mrgreen:

Re: Cockroach?????

Posted: Sun Oct 12, 2008 10:58 am
by RSM789
UncleRico wrote:They say there is a little game down in South County this week. Tell us how that rivalry is going in about thirty years...
No need to disparage the Mission Viejo-Tesoro game, only a Kool-aid drinker would suggest this new rivalry is on par with older ones such as Mater Dei-Servite or Edison-Fountain Valley.

I am connected to both Servite & Tesoro, but will be at the latter game because it is my childs (teens?) school. That doesn't imply anything about the Mater Dei-Servite game or rivalry, it just shows that the Orange County high school football scene is growing.

Do remember that the Servite rivalry with Mater Dei wasn't the "big game" until about 15 years ago. When we were in the Angelus game, St. Paul was the rivalry game. Mater Dei was just that "other" Catholic high school in Orange County, one that you might have gone to if you had lived closer to it than you did to Servite (or if you couldn't pass Servites entrance exam :mrgreen: )

Re: Cockroach?????

Posted: Sun Oct 12, 2008 11:06 am
by UncleRico
RSM789 wrote:
No need to disparage the Mission Viejo-Tesoro game, only a Kool-aid drinker would suggest this new rivalry is on par with older ones such as Mater Dei-Servite or Edison-Fountain Valley.

I am connected to both Servite & Tesoro, but will be at the latter game because it is my childs (teens?) school. That doesn't imply anything about the Mater Dei-Servite game or rivalry, it just shows that the Orange County high school football scene is growing.

Do remember that the Servite rivalry with Mater Dei wasn't the "big game" until about 15 years ago. When we were in the Angelus game, St. Paul was the rivalry game. Mater Dei was just that "other" Catholic high school in Orange County, one that you might have gone to if you had lived closer to it than you did to Servite (or if you couldn't pass Servites entrance exam :mrgreen: )[/quote]

Well 78,

In all seriousness, you are correct. MD really wasn't the power. Rollo turned them around.


YFU

Re: Cockroach?????

Posted: Sun Oct 12, 2008 12:17 pm
by Yoda
UncleRico wrote:Well 78,

In all seriousness, you are correct. MD really wasn't the power. Rollo turned them around.


YFU
True Rico, yes this is. But helped Servite underachieve, Thomas and Toner have! Hmmmmmm.

Re: Cockroach?????

Posted: Sun Oct 12, 2008 6:37 pm
by Wolves
Roach has let down the Friars. He is like the Baird men in "Scent of a Woman."
When the times get tough he turns his back on his fellow classmates.

How typical. He's probably hiding in Daddy's pockets.

Re: Cockroach?????

Posted: Sun Oct 12, 2008 6:45 pm
by ND7
Wolves wrote:Roach has let down the Friars. He is like the Baird men in "Scent of a Woman."
When the times get tough he turns his back on his fellow classmates.

How typical. He's probably hiding in Daddy's pockets.
What do you all think about the bugs Rollo thread last year ? I thought some was fall off your chair funny, and some was dark and disturbed. Was I right? Wrong?

Re: Cockroach?????

Posted: Sun Oct 12, 2008 6:50 pm
by Wolves
ND7 wrote: What do you all think about the bugs Rollo thread last year ? I thought some was fall off your chair funny, and some was dark and disturbed. Was I right? Wrong?
I thought it was some of the most entertaining reading I have ever seen.
I was a contributor on the thread also.
I loved those stories.

Re: Cockroach?????

Posted: Sun Oct 12, 2008 7:14 pm
by ND7
Wolves wrote:
I thought it was some of the most entertaining reading I have ever seen.
I was a contributor on the thread also.
I loved those stories.
You didn't think Roach crossed the line?

Re: Cockroach?????

Posted: Sun Oct 12, 2008 7:23 pm
by edac25
Yoda wrote: One and the same, considering you and Roach are. Sure your prediction will come true, I am. Hmmmmmm. :mrgreen:
MD homer...love the Yoda alias. Good stuff. Whadya think of your Monarchs so far? Howz Barkley's career going to end?

Re: Cockroach?????

Posted: Sun Oct 12, 2008 7:27 pm
by Wolves
ND7 wrote: You didn't think Roach crossed the line?
No. No line was crossed. It was all for fun.

Re: Cockroach?????

Posted: Sun Oct 12, 2008 9:51 pm
by edac25
ServiteFan wrote:It is officially Servite-Mater Dei Week. Where is Roach? His annual inspirational message was always a highlight for me.

C'mon back, Roach! I'll turn the light off for ya....
Anyone have a copy of his letter about Love & Hate? A classic post. Roach, if you're ever gonna come out, do it now. This is the week brother. I hope to see you at CSUF on Friday night. The Friar Faithful will all be there in full force. Send me a PM.

Re: Cockroach?????

Posted: Sun Oct 12, 2008 11:06 pm
by Notorious
edac25 wrote:MD homer...love the Yoda alias. Good stuff. Whadya think of your Monarchs so far? Howz Barkley's career going to end?
I'm hoping it ends on the last game of the regular season with a loss to Orange Lutheran and MD sitting in the stands the week after because they missed the playoffs.

Re: Cockroach?????

Posted: Mon Oct 13, 2008 8:30 am
by ocfootballfan
ServiteFan wrote:It is officially Servite-Mater Dei Week. Where is Roach? His annual inspirational message was always a highlight for me.

C'mon back, Roach! I'll turn the light off for ya....

I just did a quick look on the OCV site to see if I caould come up with "My Date With Rollo" but couldn't find it. It was fall out of your chair funny. Anyone still have access to it? We have to have it up for MD-Servite week.

Re: Cockroach?????

Posted: Mon Oct 13, 2008 8:51 am
by crayegg
ocfootballfan wrote:

I just did a quick look on the OCV site to see if I caould come up with "My Date With Rollo" but couldn't find it. It was fall out of your chair funny. Anyone still have access to it? We have to have it up for MD-Servite week.
My Date with Rollo.
By Cockroach and THe NUG

I got the call last night around eight. The Monarch booster who had contacted me yesterday told me that Bruce Rollinson (head football coach at Mater Dei High School) would be finishing up with his board meeting around nine, and would like to meet me shortly thereafter. I was a bit flustered, to be sure, but I agreed to meet him at a little cantina on Main St. near the Orange circle to discuss some of our differences and hopefully mend some fences.

I arrived first. I took a seat in a corner booth and ordered a glass of Merlot and some chips with queso. After about five minutes, I saw him stroll in with that trademark swagger and smirk. He was wearing a maroon, velour sweatsuit emblazoned with the MD logo over the left chest. His pants were a little bit tight in the bottom.

Rollo: That you, Cockroach?
C: Why, yes sir. It's me.

He plopped himself down in the booth across from me and loudly called for the waiter.

Rollo: Bring me a boilermaker and a hot dog, Pepe!
Pepe (the waiter): Uh, we no have hot dog, senor.
Rollo: Well then, bring me a boilermaker and a god--- MEXICAN hot dog!

Pepe slunk away to the kitchen as Rollo started in on me. It was starting out badly, as he seemed grouchy and tired, perhaps worn down by explaining his loss from the week before to his (less than) happy haircut boosters. I found him less avuncular than the time his assistants had accosted my friends and I in a Fullerton tavern.

Rollo: Listen, you bastard, I'm tired of you and all your nonsense.
C: But sir, I have changed my tune and am talking about love and respect now.
Rollo: Screw all that, cupcake! This is freakin' football and all that crap don't mean nothin'. I want my kids eatin' lightning and crappin' thunder. You want your kids singin' Kumbaya and givin' each other hugs, then you go right ahead. But the Monarchs gonna truck your asses cuz I can't stand ya and I don't want THEM to stand ya!
C: But I like Mater Dei now. And I LOVE you.
Rollo: Screw you, fruitbasket! I can't stand Servite. There isn't ONE good thing about that hell hole. I haven't lost to Servite in 19 freakin' years, baby girl, and I ain't about to start now! I HATE your ever lovin' namby pamby butts and I LAUGH MY ASS OFF after we bust your sorry asses every damn year. Go cry in your beers and talk about love and brotherhood. HANG ALL THAT. THAT'S why you're wearin' shirts with cute slogans on 'em and I'M WEARIN' RINGS!

It went downhill from there as he slammed his whiskey shot and gargled the chaser Bud. Queso dripped from his jowels and chip crumbs polluted his bushy salt n' pepa moustache.
C: So, uh, how you gonna get your boys up for the big game?
Rollo: How am I gonna get 'em up? Are you kiddin' me? These boys would KILL for me. They would DIE for each other. And come Friday night, they're gonna be shootin' fire out of their pants. Tell you what, Cockaroach, I'll tell 'em whatever I gotta tell 'em. This is psychological warfare and I am George Mother------ Patton. Against Poly a few years back, I told 'em that I had 100 rabid monkeys up my butt and that if we didn't beat the Jackrabbits asses I was gonna unleash 'em all over the boys in the locker room and lock the god--- door! Was it true? Hell no! But did they BELIEVE it? Hell yes! And the rest is history. Fact is, I get them to believe what I WANT them to believe. I get them to think what I WANT them to think. And then it's on.
C: I'm speechless, Bruce.
Rollo: Good. Let's dance.

I was confused as he waddled over to the jukebox and put a dollar in. The unmistakeable bars of "Tonight's the Night" by Rod Stewart began, and Rollo extended his hand. A few drunk gardeners at the bar turned to look as he pulled me close and put his head on my shoulder. I was a bit uncomfortable, to say the least, but what harm could one dance do? As the chorus chimed in and Stewart's voice rose an octave, I felt Rollo start to nuzzle my neck with his whiskers. And could it be? Was it? Oooh my goodness, I thought, as he started to kiss me softly. It felt like I was being macked on by a walrus, being given a hickey by Teddy Roosevelt. As I began to recoil, I felt his big old meaty mitts grab my buttocks firmly. With that, I slapped his face and the queso that had been dripping from his chin flew everywhere. I ran for the parking lot, grabbing his car keys off the table as I left, and spotted his truck immediately. A flaming red Yukon with a rainbow sticker. As I peeled out, I saw him running out of the bar after me snarling and barking "Come back here, Cockroach you dumb bastard!" He wasn't very fast anymore. Gone were the wheels of the star Monarch tailback from nineteen sixty something. He now ran more like a duck with a trunk full of suppositories.

As I pulled away, the emotion was too much for me to handle and I began to weep uncontrollably. The KOST was on the radio and one of my favorite songs was playing. "Dance with my Father Again" by Luther Vandross. And all I could think, all I could feel was...
How I'd love, love, love
To dance with my Rollo again.

Rollo kicked at the dirt and spoke to himself, "That god--- Roach did it to me again. Left me high and dry and stole my booster "gift" Yukon with the rainbow sticker. I hope Pepe has one good night left in him because I'm tired of watching those damn Servite DVDs."

I took off down Chapman, headed eastbound toward the 55. As I wiped my tears away, I glanced down to the passenger seat and saw a red binder. On its front, printed clear as day "Servite 11-9-07: Game Plan (Confidential)" Wow. I just happened to have Coach Thomas on speed dial, because he frequently calls me with questions regarding personnel and game strategy. But I decided to go first where I usually went when I had questions about life, ethics and football.

I crossed under the 55 and turned south on Santiago. I was going to OLU to speak with Coach Kunau. I thought HE might have the answers to my questions, and be able to help me with my moral dilemma.

I arrived on the OLU campus and it was eerily still and void of any sign of life. There was a one large, beige building off in the distance. Next to the building were two large, round concrete boobs similar to those at San Onofre. I had heard rumors for the past few years that OLu was turning itself into a "football factory" but I hadn't realized what that meant until now. I rolled up the "Game Plan" in my left hand with an amount of skill that would make Cheech and Chong proud and began to hunt for Coach Kunau.

From out of nowhere, two naked Kenyans approached me. They had red facial war paint and were carrying spears. And, since I never disobey naked men with spears, I followed them. They led me through the candlelit corridors of the OLU Athletic Complex toward a beaded door. Smoke was emanating from the room inside, and a large figure lay prone on a bed of granite. Asian women wearing string bikinis fanned him with banana leaves. Coach Kunau looked up at me and asked...

"Do You smell that? Do you smell that? Oranges, son. Nothing else in the world smells like that. I love the smell of Oranges in the morning. You know, one time we had a field bombed, for three hours. When it was all over I walked up. We didn't find one of 'em, not one stinkin' Monarch body. The smell, you know that Citrus smell, the whole field. Smelled like … victory."

I took a seat on one of his bean bags as he went on, "You see, Cockroach, the secret to defeating these Monarchs is in HERE (as he pointed to his chest) and HERE (as he clutched his naked loin). To beat them, it is heart and stones. Nothing more nor less. It is a horror. Horror has a face and you must make a friend of horror."

I didn't really know what the hell he was talking about, but one of the Asian chicks was checking me out and there was a bowl of Cheetos on his desk that I was mackin' on prettty good. He went on.

"What brings you here today Cockroach?"
I stood, wiping the orange Cheeto crumbs from my shirt and approached him, extending Rollo's Game Plan with my right hand. One of the Kenyans stopped me before I got too close, sticking a spear to my throat, piercing my adam's apple. A tear of blood trickled down my neck onto my black Servite Football T-shirt.

"Ha ha ha ha," Kunau laughed. His bellowing laughter sounded as if the "Jolly Green Giant" and "Jabba the Hut" were having a threesome with "Princess Leia."

I was concerned about my bleeding neck and looked to Kunau. "Hey Coach. What's the deal? What the hell? How 'bout a little help here. Look what your freakin' Kenyan did with his spear." His round, pink face went dead serious as he stared at me with an intensity I hadn't seen since Larry Toner shook my facemask and screamed that shrill scream at me so many years ago,
"Cockroach! Run THROUGH that ballcarrier! Run THROUGH that ballcarrier!"

Kunau raised his gnarled right index finger up close to my face. Its tip became illuminated, much like the healing finger of E.T. He licked it quickly and applied it firmly to my wound. Oh, how it burned. The same burning as a bowel movement after a meal at El Farolito in Placentia. The same burning as I had suffered in my nether regions after a forgotten weekend in Tiajuana so many years ago. Steam arose from my neck and I could smell the burning flesh. I lost consciousness, and the last thing I remembered was an Asian woman standing over me, a long utensil of some kind clutched in her hand.

I awoke in a haze. I stood gingerly. The Asian woman was gone.

From out of nowhere, classical music began playing. Kunau gently took my hands and began to dance the Tango with me, the Game Plan dangling from his mouth like a brilliant, red rose. At this point, I began to question my masculinity. For the second time in less than 24 hours, there I was, dancing with another Trinity League coach. But, I WAS a natural. My timing and meter were excellent, mostly due to all those years of performing the Hut Drill. Surprisingly, Coach Kunau was a superb Tangoist. But, his breath was horrible. It smelled of Cheetos, stale banana peels and hot dogs, which was peculiar because I could feel the packet of Certs he kept in his front pocket.

Kunau led me around the room with great precision and strength. His bare belly rubbed against my Credo t-shirt as our feet moved in unison. Our bodies began to meld together as we danced the dance. The FORBIDDEN TANGO OF LOVE. As the tempo increased, our bodies began to heave and gyrate to the primitive jungle beat of the TOL. The sweat poured from our bodies and sparks started to fly from our twisted form.

His arms became mine. My butt became his. His bellies became mine. My nose became his. His Certs became my Lifesavers. We were ONE body, ONE mind, ONE thing. Freakish in appearance like a Brundlefly, appendages where they shouldn't be and orifices all askew. I was, he was....WE were...

...Cockunau

The music stopped abruptly. I began to feel guilty. I pushed Kunau away. What was I doing? The biggest game of the year was this Friday and I was dancing the Frickin Tango with Coach Kunau. I had to focus on my mission, which was to find the secret to beating the Mater Dei Monarchs.

"Coach Kunau. Who are you?

Before I got an answer, more than 30 Kenyans appeared before us. They began playing bongos and used their spears like percussion instruments. The beat sounded familiar and then Kunau proceeded to answer my question with a song. Was it? Yes it was... It was the most beautiful version Of the Rolling Stones' "Sympathy for the Devil" anyone has ever heard.

"Please allow me to introduce myself
I'm a man of wealth and taste
I've been around for a long, long year
Stole many a mans soul and faith
And I was round when Jesus Christ
Had his moment of doubt and pain
Made damn sure that pilate
Washed his hands and sealed his fate
Pleased to meet you
Hope you guess my name
But whats puzzling you
Is the nature of my game
I stuck around Bristoltown
When I saw it was a time for a change
Killed the czar and his ministers
Anastasia screamed in vain
I rode a tank
Held a generals rank
When the blitzkrieg raged
And the bodies stank
Pleased to meet you
Hope you guess my name, oh yeah
Ah, whats puzzling you
Is the nature of my game, oh yeah
I watched with glee
While your kings and queens
Fought for ten decades
For the gods they made
I shouted out,
Who killed the Kennedys?
When after all
It was you and me
Let me please introduce myself
I'm a man of wealth and taste
And I laid traps for troubadours
Who get killed before they reached Bombay
Pleased to meet you
Hope you guessed my name, oh yeah
But whats puzzling you
Is the nature of my game, oh yeah, get down, baby
Pleased to meet youHope you guessed my name, oh yeah
But whats confusing you
Is just the nature of my game


The Kenyans voices called in unison...

Ooo, who, who
Ooo, who, who
Ooo, who, who
Ooo, who, who
Ooo, who, who
Ooo, who, who
Ooo, who, who
Oh, yeah..........................

I stood there mouth agape. I couldn't believe what I was seeing, hearing, experiencing. Our brief metamorphosis into the Cockunau was only a harbinger, apparently. Coach Kunau was the Dark Lord. His eyes went a dark, blood red as he beckoned me with his illuminated E.T. finger to come toward him. He danced around me in circles while the Kenyans howled their incomprehensible approval. He waved the Mater Dei playbook above his head, taunting me with its contents, as his tongue darted in and out of his meaty lips.

It became clear that I would have to make a "deal".
I would have to sell my soul for the Friars to defeat the Monarchs.

Before I could do anything, The Demon Kunau, along with the Kenyans, vanished. A pillowy cloud of orange smoke filled the room. I hadn't seen smoke this thick since my days as a roadie for Blue Öyster Cult. I had to get out of there, quickly. I opened a door I thought was an exit, but I was just a long corridor leading to another large door. I ran full speed toward the second door, wiping the sweat of my brow with my black Credo shirt. My armpits squeaked like a small dog's chew toy as my arms moved back and forth. I opened the door.

On the other side of the door was a large room. More like a huge warehouse, actually. There was a gigantic assembly line and and hundreds of Kenyans milling about. It was like a surreal scene out of "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory," except they weren't making candy in there...they were making FOOTBALL PLAYERS. Limbs, heads, feet and hands were organized by size in containers. It smelled like burnt kettle corn, steel and raw beef in there.

I looked up toward the ceiling, which must have been ten stories high, noticing two large Orange signs. One read ''Kunau is Watching"...the other "War is Peace; Freedom is Slavery; Ignorance is Strength."

I had always KNOWN those Lutherans were up to no good. I mean, how else could you explain a football team where literally HALF of the team looks the same and HAS THE SAME FREAKING LAST NAME? If that wasn't a dead giveaway, this most certainly was. I just happened to have my camcorder in my cargo pants pocket because I was planning on meeting one of the MD mothers later for a little sumpin' sumpin' and I ALWAYS brought my camcorder when I met up with her (if ya know what I'm talkin' 'bout).

Anyhow, I whipped it out (the camcorder) and started filming the workings of the factory. None of the Kenyans seemed to notice me, hiding behind a pile of tackling dummies and a cardboard cutout of Chris Galippo affixed to a go-cart (likely there so that young Lancer-bots would have something to run them over at practice). As I filmed, I couldn't stop thinking how very interesting the CIF would think this footage is and how it might impact the Friar 2006 season. But just then....

A spear whizzed by me, narrowly missing my head, propelling me backward onto a metal gurney, knocking the camera out of my hands and onto the concrete floor. Four Kenyans tied me down to the gurney with large leather straps and wheeled me towards the assembly line labeled "Linebackers." I struggled, but one of the Kenyans inserted a needle into my left buttocks. As I faded into unconsciousness I swore I got brief glimpse of Tom Cruise, Coach Kunau and L. Ron Hubbard laughing and sharing a clove. But I had only two questions at the time; What would become of me? And, how long would it take for my Mater Dei Mom sex tape to end up on the internet?

When I awoke, everything around me was hazy. I was groggy and in a dream-like state. There was red all around me and a warm, sticky substance covered my face. I wiped my eyes clean and looked down HORRIFIED to see that my massive arms and muscular legs had been removed and that drains were crudely implanted into my stumps. I was hanging from a meat hook in a large, refrigerated room with dozens of other torsos. We were all wearing jerseys. Mine was #49. I swung over to my neighbor stump-torso, bumping into him to awaken him from his drug-induced coma.

"Hey dude" I said to him "What's it say on my back?"
"Uhhh....Pemasa", he replied, as I let out a plaintive wail that echoed throughout the chilly chamber of horrors.

Although I had no arms or legs and was just a head and a torso, I still had excellent peripheral vision. Hanging on that Lutheran meat hook, I noticed a shadow to my right. As he came into full view, I got a good look at him. He had a skateboard in one hand and a 24-ounce can Pabst Blue Ribbon in the other. He wore a pair of faded Levis, leather flip-flops and a green T-shirt that read "Smoke 'em if you got 'em."

"Cockroach? is that you?
"Yeah, It's me.""How'z it hangin'?"
"Very funny. I'll tell you how it hangin'. Coach Kunau slipped me a ruffie, took my arm legs and now they're trying to turn me into a FREAKIN LANCER LINEBACKER."
"That sucks dude. Relax. At least you have nice abs. Coach Thomas has been looking for you. The game is tomorrow dude. He sent me to look for you. Let's get you out of here."

He gently removed me from the meat hook and placed me on his skateboard. As we rolled away I asked, "Who are you?" He took a swig of his beer, let out an enormous burp and said, "I am THe Nug."

"Well then gimme a tug off o' dat, Nug" I answered, "cuz I'm feelin' a little bit low right about now." He generously poured the rest of his PBR onto my face, taking great care to get some of it in my mouth. "Thanks", I choked, as we headed out into the night, leaving a trail of blood and beer in our skateboard wake.

When we got to the parking lot, it struck me that I DIDN'T HAVE THE PLAYBOOK! Alarmed, I yelled up at the Nug, "Dude, you gotta take me back inside. I gotta get the Monarchs' playbook!"
"Relax Stumpy, I gotcha covered." He wore his jeans all low with the boxers out da top (in classic HB hood rat style) and reached behind him. He had the playbook rolled up and stuffed down his ass crack. It was rolled tight, twised at the end, with an odorous, green leafy substance spilling out of the other. I couldn't believe it when I saw it. He had fashioned the Mater Dei football game plan into a joint....and had already smoked some.

Coach Thomas often worked late nights. He was an intense man, a perfectionist, and knew that this was a big game. He had the team to do it, the scheme to do it and the backing of his outstanding message board backers to do it.

The fence was drawn shut. Nug threw the quadruple amputee up over the top but, because he was HIGH ON DRUGS, he miscalculated how hard he needed to throw the Roach (still in his Pemasa jersey). As a result, Roach was impaled upside-down atop the spiked fence. Fortunately, there was little pain involved as all of the nerves had been severed during the amputation procedure at OLU. There was a stick handy, so Nug poked at Roach a bit until he toppled over the fence and landed with a thud on the asphalt parking lot. Nug just strolled right through the bars of the fence, as he was lithe and flexible like a gerbil.

It was just after midnight and Coach Thomas sat at his black leather chair watching game film and drinking coffee (Black, from the local gas station). There were four Bagpipe players dressed in kilts at his side, smoking cigarettes and drinking scotch. As it happens, he keeps them on retainer, never knowing when he might need a little "inspiration."

He took a healthy swig of his coffee and heard a large thud outside his office.
He pulled back the mini blinds and couldn't believed what he saw before him... a guy who resembled 'The Dude' form the "Big Lebowski" and what looked like a slab of beef riding a skateboard, wearing an Orange Lutheran Jersey. He grimaced like John Gruden after a blown holding penalty and opened his office door.

"Excuse me, gentlemen, but I think you're lost", said Thomas, the bagpipers standing behind him and staring menacingly at the interlopers. "We're trying to prepare for a big game here, and the circus done left town a week ago. So I suggest you go back to under the rock from which you came, Beavis and Buttbody, or I'm gonna have to go all ugly on y'all." With that, the bagpipers began blasting Dirty Deeds (Done Dirt Cheap) and pelvic thrusting with the beat. Thomas assumed the "flamingo" position inspired by Daniel-son from the Karate Kid right before he kicked Johnny from the Cobra-kai's ass.

Nug was paralyzed with fear. Roach was paralyzed with limblessness. Nug removed the doobie-book from his mouth and took a deep gulp. Meekly, he replied "Uhh, but, ummm Coach T-t-t-homas, we got the Mater Dei game plan and play book....Ummm, uhhh, we smoked some of it, but most of it's pretty good still...You...uhhh..want it?"

The bagpipes went silent...and a pickle dropped out from under the kilt of the skinny one with the big long beard.

Apparently Billy Gibbons of ZZ Top fame had fallen on hard times and was now on Coach Thomas' payroll. Ironically, "Hot Legs" was Cockroach and his wife's song growing up. They even played it at the wedding.

"How do I know it's the real deal?" said the puzzled Servite coach.
"B---bee Because, I took it from Coach Rollo myself," Roach struggled to get out.

Coach Thomas took the charred Game Plan. He read the cover page out loud. "Mater Dei Game Plan for Servite, 11/09/07."
Sure enough it looked like the real thing.
At the bottom, in a tiny 8-point font it said, "Pride Drill Choreography by Paula Abdul."

Coach Thomas looked at the Roach.
Roach looked at the Nug.
The Nug looked at Coach Thomas.
ALL of them looked at Gibbons and, in unison, asked him "Didn't Rod Stewart sing 'Hot Legs' and wasn't the one by you guys just 'Legs'?" Gibbons nodded in the affirmative as he picked his pickle up off of the floor.

"Well boys, it looks like you might really have something here", said Thomas. "Whatcha want for it?"

Before Cockroach or Nug could utter a word, a flaming red Yukon with a rainbow sticker came barreling into the parking lot, "Tonight's the Night" playing on the radio at full volume. It was Rollo and he was pissed. The truck clipped a bagpiper, throwing him onto the windshield, killing him instantly and exposing his "manhood" to a disgusted yet strangely aroused Coach Rollo. The Rollomobile stopped. Rollo open the door, smiled, winked suggestively at the dead, naked bagpiper and said, "What in the Wide, Wide World of Sports in Going on Here?"

"And just WHAT in the hell are you doing with my playbook, Troy? And just WHY in the hell is it rolled up in a dadburn DOOBIE!?"

Nug and the Roach froze in sheer terror. The gravel gargling Rollo frequently had that effect on amputees and neozoomdweebies with a penchant for the pipe. The surviving bagpipers scurried away and hid behind the hedges at the Grotto. But Troy stood strong there on the gym steps, staring down the coaching legend with the moustache made for ridin'.

"Well Coach", Thomas started, "it seems that you're thinkin' that maybe this here playbook belongs to you. Funny thing that is, because I seem to be the guy holdin' it. And seein' as you're about 65 years old and have the physique of Bette Midler, I'm thinkin' you might have yourself a bit of a problem. But I tell you what, Rollo. I'm a fair man and a good man. And I'm in a particularly generous mood tonight. I propose a dual...for the book...and I pick the weapons...to the DEATH. What say you?"

Rollo was furious and started to foam at the mouth. He started yelling "Blahwahhhhphhhlappppmeeeeooooooooaahhhhhrrrrrrrghh hhhhh!" and sounded for all the world like the Tazmanian Devil. He began to jump up and down and contort his body into all sorts of odd poses, some like a spider, others like a praying mantis, and yet others like Andy Dick on acid. After this unusual display (that lasted more than a minute), he seemed spent but nodded his approval to Thomas' proposal. There would be a dual, for the book, and to the death.

And the weapon of choice....
Would be a 20 inch sausage.

Since it was early November, the Holiday boxes of Pepperidge Farms products had begun to flood Coach Thomas' office. Cheese logs, crackers and sausage. Lots of sausage. Big ones, small ones, long ones and short ones. It was a veritable CARNIVAL of sausage! And since there were never any sausage parties thrown at, by or involving the Men of Servite, there was plenty to spare.

The men armed themselves.

Rollo was an expert sausage swordsman. It wasn't the first time he crossed sausage swords with another coach and if he had anything to say about it, it wouldn't be the last. His technique, although unconventional, was actually quite effective. His strategy was to intimidate Coach Thomas with a maneuver he learned from his roommate at USC. He called it the deep throat. Hell, they called him the "Kiełlbasa Kowboy" for a reason. As Rollo gagged on the sausage, Thomas gagged at the sight of Rollo gagging on the sausage.

The Servite Coach gathered his bearings and charged Rollo, holding the 20-inch sausage like a baseball bat.

But Rollo was smart. As he was deep throating the sausage, he had actually been churning it deep within his gullet. He had extensive experience as a gravel gargler for the CRHD (California Road and Highway Department) and was adept at orally grinding, liquifying and chopping objects. As Thomas charged him, Rollo SPEWED forth the sausage bits into the face of the Servite coach. The meaty projectiles spattered off of Thomas' freshly shorn pate, into his nose, open mouth and eyes, temporarily blinding him.

Coach Thomas went to his knees with his hands over his eyes, a man blinded by sausage, and let out a wail. "NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!", he bellowed, echoing throughout the walls of the abandoned campus. Rollo slowly approached him. Thomas dropped his sausage to the ground.

...and looked up to the heavens for help. A bolt of lightening exploded from the sky striking Rollo square on the chin, splattering sausage shrapnel all over Coach Thomas, Cockroach, Nug and the onlooking bagpipers. Nug licked his lips, tucking a tasty pork morsel into his mouth.

As Rollo lay on his back, chin charred and moustache ablaze, Thomas rose above him and held his sausage high like a gladiator poised to deal the death blow. A crowd started to form (seemingly from out of nowhere). Ed Drzanek, Coach McKnipples, Coolio, Randolph Mantooth and Alan Alda. Larry Toner, Tom Lewis, Martin Scorcese, Danny Bonnaduce and Spiderman. It was an eclectic group.

Nug couldn't keep his eyes off Scorcese. His eyebrows were the most disgusting thing he had ever seen, and he had seen plenty of disgusting acts in his life. Hell, he just witnessed Rollo swallow a 20-inch sausage. Maybe THe Nug was still pissed he hadn't made a decent film since "Casino" in 1995. But those eyebrows were amazingly horrible. They were at least 12 inches long and smelled like sourkraut.

Since Rollo's strength came from his patented moustache, and it had been charred into a Hitler-esque version, he grabbed a knife from his back pocket and proceeded to cut off Scorcese's eyebrows and attach them to his upper lip.

He hopped up, energized by the new stuffed animal-sized mound of hair above his mouth. He quickly grabbed another sausage from the rack and assumed a fighter's position.

Battle lines were drawn. McKnipples, Lewis, Mantooth, Scorcese (sans eyebrows) and Alda fell in behind Rollo. Drzanek, Coolio, Toner, Bonnaduce and Spiderman closed ranks behind Thomas. Nug and Roach took a seat on a nearby bench and sparked up the playbook (why the hell not, at this point?).

The rival gangs began to snap in unison.

Scorcese was the first to make his move and was thrown into the gymnasium wall by Spiderman, killing him instantly, along with the hope of a sequel to "Taxi Driver." Bonnaduce joined the Nug and Roach. Coolio followed. Alan Alda tried to talk his way out, but was promptly judo-kicked by Larry Toner, crushing his ribcage into his lungs and killing him. Blood and sausage fragments were everywhere. Spiderman jumped on Mcknipples' back and they rode off into the night together, never to been seen again. The others were all killed, except for Coach Thomas and Coach Rollo. The stood before each other, each holding a 20-inch sausage. A microphone mysteriously lowered from the sky and Michael Buffer appeared.

"Ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages: Are you ready?! Then, for the thousands in attendance, and the millions watching around the world. Ladies and gentlemen, let's get ready to rumble!", In this corner...."

...standing five foot eleven and weighing in at a soft and doughy 210 pounds, the reigning champion and UNDEFEATED at 18 and Ooooooooo, the Gravel Gargling Lunatic, The Hairy Lipped Hooligan, The Raunchy Paunchy Goon, Bruuuuuuuce "White Shoes" RAAAAAAHLIIIII
IIIINSOOOOOOON!"

"And in this corner, standing five foot nine and weighing in at a SVELTE and ATHLETIC 185 pounds, the challenger and coach of the NUMBER ONE RANKED SERVITE FRIARS, Mister Clean, The Mormon Tabernacle Flyer, The Big Kahuna and LEADER of the FRIAR NATION, Troooooy THOOOOOOOOMAS!"

What remained of the crowd (Nug, Roach and Bonnaduce) went wild. The lights went down and the microphone went up. Buffer spontaneously combusted. Bonnaduce removed his shirt. It was now Rollo and Thomas alone on the pavement, mano y mano, sausage y sausage.

Rollo never stood a chance. Despite his massive Scorcese eyebrow moustache, the elderly, frail Mater Dei coach was no match for the stronger, quicker, younger, smarter and EXCEEDINGLY more handsome Thomas.

Thomas advanced on him like a black panther upon a wildebeast in the jungles of Manitoba. With his left hand, he put a vice grip on Rollo's neck and body slammed him to the ground. With his right hand, he raised the sausage up above his head and, with one quick motion, crammed it into Rollo's mouth with such force that it exited the back of his noggin. He then twisted the sausage like a corkscrew so that Rollo's head spun around on its axis four times before popping off like a champagne cork. Thomas stood slowly, exhausted from the immense stress of the evening, and raised Rollo's head on the sausage up high. He picked up the half smoked playbook and looked knowingly at Roach and the Nug. With a wry smile and a wink he said "We ain't gonna even need this," and dropped it in the trash can.

He walked slowly back to his office, carrying the Rollo sausage blow-pop. He walked the walk of a man on the brink of victory....a victory that was gonna taste WAY better than even the sweetest Christmas sausage. Snow began to fall from the cloudless sky.

The End