A Churlish Dickhead’s Christmas Carol: Part 2

INT. BEDROOM – DAY

It is early morning, and DAN SNYDER is sleeping peacefully in a king size bed. The room is lavishly appointed, with a silk curtains, ornate antique furniture, and a plush Persian rug covering the floor. The colors burgundy and gold are featured prominently in the color scheme. SNYDER stirs, wakes, and sits up in bed. A manservant – WINSTON – enters the room and sets a breakfast tray on the bed.

SNYDER: It’s so bright in here this morning!

WINSTON: Yes, we had those two hundred year-old firs cut down as you instructed.

SNYDER: It’s nice to wake up to the sunlight, and to knowing that that meddling park ranger has been reassigned to Anchorage. I had such relaxing sleep last night.

WINSTON: No dreams, sir?

SNYDER: Not a one!

WINSTON: I’ll see to it that your supply of Crown Royal is replenished, sir.

SNYDER: I drank not a drop! [gestures to a crystal decanter on the bedstand; it is completely full] Would you see to it that the Bentley is gassed up? I’m headed over to the stadium to inspect the turf.

WINSTON: On Christmas, sir?

SNYDER: As I made clear to that mouth-breathing simpleton Gruden, Christmas is a day just like any other day.

WINSTON: Very well, sir.

WINSTON leaves and SNYDER begins to busy himself with his breakfast. The sound of a snowblower can be heard, faintly.  It grows louder and louder until we realize that it’s not a distant snowblower, but some type of engine, and it’s getting closer.  As SNYDER looks around in alarm, a Harley Davidson bursts through the wall of the bedroom, carrying a mohawked man dressed all in camouflage and holding a tallboy in one hand.

SNYDER: Hagrid?

THE GHOST OF JOHN RIGGINS: No, you idiot, I’m the ghost of John Riggins.

SNYDER: But you’re not dead.

THE GHOST OF JOHN RIGGINS: Ha ha, yeah, but right now the living John Riggins is dead drunk, so I get to come out and have a little fun.  [extends hand] Come with me if you want to live.

SNYDER: Oh, from Terminator. I get it.

RIGGINS: [hurls empty beer can at SNYDER, striking him in the forehead] I’m not joking. Get on.

As if hypnotized, SNYDER climbs onto the back of the motorcycle and it roars off, carrying the two men into the sky.

—

EXT. COLLEGE DORMITORY – DAY

The motorcycle carrying THE GHOST OF JOHN RIGGINS and DAN SNYDER floats down next to the third story of a large snow-covered brick building.  

RIGGINS: Do you recognize this building?

SNYDER: It’s…Callahan Hall. At the University of Maryland in College Park.

RIGGINS: That’s right. The year is 1982 – you were eighteen years old. Shall we see what you’re up to?

The two float outside a lit window. RIGGINS gestures for SNYDER to look inside, and once he has done so RIGGINS turns and gags in disgust. We change to SNYDER’S point of view and find ourselves looking over the shoulder of a pudgy college freshman who sits on the edge of his bed, watching an episode of the Price is Right. A pair of Barker’s Beauties are displaying a set of products. 

The college student’s hands are in his lap and although we blessedly cannot see what they are doing, the motion of his body makes it obvious. Suddenly, there is a rapid series of knocks on the door, and the young man is startled, then slides back on the mattress and quickly grabs a pillow and puts it in his lap. The doorknob begins to turn and the freshman turns to see who has arrived; as he does his face moves into profile and we realize it is an eighteen year-old DAN SNYDER.  His roommate ANDRE gingerly opens the door. He is followed into the room by a pair of cute co-eds, RACHAEL and BRITT. ANDRE gives YOUNG SNYDER a disapproving look – as his roommate he knows what was going on – but the girls are none the wiser.

ANDRE: Oh, hey. [glaces at the TV] Watching a game show, huh? Looks like fun. Well, don’t let me interrupt; I just stopped by to grab a hat and some gloves. Gonna get cold tonight. Rachael, Britt, this is my roommate, Dan…

YOUNG SNYDER nods nervously nods at the girls.

ANDRE: …but everyone calls him Piggy.

YOUNG SNYDER is crestfallen.

BRITT: [speaking to ANDRE as though YOUNG SNYDER isn’t even there] He’s not that fat.

ANDRE: It was cause he wore a pig’s nose and a dress to the dorm lounge to watch football during the first week of school.

YOUNG SNYDER: It was for the Redskins game! It’s what the Hoggettes do!

ANDRE: Yeah, well, anyhow, we’re going to the Sigma Pi party. They said you can come but only if you wear your Miss Piggy costume.

YOUNG SNYDER: No, I’m…I’ve got to study for my Marketing final.

ANDRE: All right, man, catch you later. Don’t wait up.

RACHAEL: [blithely] Nice to meet you, Piggy!

SNYDER looks heartbroken as his roommate puts his arms around the girls and they leave. SNYDER sighs, and gazes at his closet, where a Redskins jersey hangs in the closet.  The scene fades, and the two reappear in SNYDER’S bedroom.

RIGGINS: Ah, man, I miss those eighties girls.  You know Andre banged both of them that night, right?

SNYDER: Yeah, I know.  I was in the room.

RIGGINS: [elbows SNYDER in the ribs] That Britt had some pipes on her, huh?

SNYDER: [irritated] I guess.  What was the point of dragging me through all that stuff again?

RIGGINS: You don’t get the point?

SNYDER stares at him blankly.

RIGGINS: Piggy?

SNYDER: Nobody calls me that anymore.

RIGGINS: Are you kidding me? I spent ten years running headfirst into linebackers all day and drinking all night and even *I* can figure out the subtext here. You fucking HATED that nickname. And the more you protested, the more it stuck.

SNYDER: Yeah, but I own the Redskins now.  Andre works in…I don’t know, a rental car dealership?

RIGGINS: Andre also just celebrated his twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, and has a pair of happy, successful children.

SNYDER: I’ve got a wife.  And kids.  I’ve got all that stuff!

RIGGINS: And yet your franchise is the Voldemort of professional sports.

SNYDER: All of that would change if I could just win the Super Bowl!

RIGGINS: Would it, though?  [there is a long, pregnant pause]  Ugh, the hell with this.  Nobody said I had to do this sober [grabs decanter of Crown Royal and starts chugging it].

Ten minutes later…

RIGGINS: So anyway, I go out and Jacoby’s got the goddamned pig in a headlock, and…what were we talking about again?

SNYDER: You were lecturing me about nicknames?

RIGGINS: C’mon, Danny baby. Loosen up. You’re too tight.

RIGGINS stumbles over to a table by the wall and climbs under it. He curls himself up and in a few moments begins to emit a series of ragged snores. There is the sound of a toilet flushing, and a gray-haired man steps out of the bathroom, walking with a pronounced limp.

GHOST OF JOE THEISMANN: Ah, sorry about that. Riggo give you his whole schpiel?

SNYDER: I guess. [gestures to RIGGINS]

THEISMANN: Well, don’t trouble yourself with that nonsense. There’s a lot of us here that don’t WANT you to change the Skins’ name. Personally, I think it’s an honor for those Indians to be associated with such a great franchise. Those ungrateful jerks should be thanking *you* for paying them tribute.

SNYDER: That’s what I’ve been telling everyone!  And it’s not even like it’s associated with a particular tribe – nobody complains about the Seminoles at FSU, or the Aztecs in San Diego.

THEISMANN: Well, actually, to be fair a lot of…[decides not to bother].  You know, Dan, I’m proud of your resilience on this issue.  But I have to warn you – you’re gonna keep getting pressure to change the name. It won’t let up.

SNYDER: Don’t worry, Joe. I’ll stand fast. I promise I won’t crack.

THEISMANN: Oh God no don’t say that word!

There is a thunderous rumbling, and a monstrous figure crashes through the wall.

GHOST OF LAWRENCE TAYLOR: DID SOMEBODY SAY CRACK???

THE GHOST OF LAWRENCE TAYLOR lunges across the room and tackles THEISMAN’S GHOST, breaking his leg.  As THEISMAN writhes around on the floor in agony, the dust from TAYLOR crashing through the wall swirls into the room, and SNYDER inhales it and begins coughing fiercely. His coughing fit continues as the dust blocks our view of everything, and then suddenly it clears and SNYDER is sitting once again in his bed.

WINSTON enters the room, carrying the same breakfast tray as earlier.

SNYDER: Winston?

WINSTON: Good morning, sir.

SNYDER: Were you…did you hear any of that?

WINSTON: [gazes at him, confused] Any of what, sir?

SNYDER: [puts his head in his hands] I’m going crazy. I’m losing my mind.

WINSTON: You must have had a nightmare, sir. Here, I’ll cue something up on the DVR to help you relax. Deal or No Deal?

SNYDER: Deal.

[end of Part 2]