Latest posts by Rikki-Tikki-Deadly (see all)
- Request Line: Imports – March 15, 2019
- Meanwhile, in Jupiter… – March 6, 2019
- Your “The Sun Rises on the Factory” Saturday Morning Open Thread – February 16, 2019
INT. BANQUET HALL – DAY
We open on an establishing shot of a gigantic dining hall. Massive oak tables, chandeliers full of candles, and brightly coloured banners abound. The hall is filled with students, most of whom are already sitting and chattering excitedly. The camera tracks upward to an announcer’s booth that overlooks the proceedings.
JOHN MADDEN: Well all right! Folks thanks for joining us on this wonderful holiday as we get ready for another edition of the Thanksgiving Day Inaugural Feast here at the Dak Prescott School of Maturity.
GHOST OF PAT SUMMERALL: [sips from ghost flask]
JOHN MADDEN: We’re thrilled to be here to witness the debut of the school’s four newest recruits, Eli Manning, Antonio Brown, Cam Newton, and Doug Martin. Pat, who do you see making the biggest contribution this week?
GHOST OF PAT SUMMERALL: [shrugs, takes another sip from ghost flask]
JOHN MADDEN: Hold that thought, Pat, it looks like the four new students are about to take the field!
In the hall below our four protagonists enter. The person escorting them is clearly younger, but carries himself with the confidence of someone who clearly knows the ropes.
JAMEIS WINSTON: …and then this Uber thing happened, so here I am, back again for a third year.
ELI MANNING: Thanks for showing us around, Mr. Winston. I can’t believe security wouldn’t let Coach Tomsula into the banquet hall.
JAMEIS: You can call me Jameis. Yeah, ol’ Jim-Tom does a fine job getting people through the front gate, but when it comes to table manners…[shakes head sadly]…some men you just can’t reach.
DOUG MARTIN: [only hears the part about “can’t reach”, frowns angrily]
CAM NEWTON: [looking around hungrily at the tables, which are pile high with an abundance of food] Oh man, look at all this stuff! You got yogurt?
ELI: You got lunchables?
ANTONIO BROWN: You got Gatorade?
JAMEIS: Round here we call it bug juice, but yup.
DOUG: You got crab legs?
JAMEIS: [looks at him sideways] Yeah. We also got shortribs, you want some of those? Or maybe some shortbread?
DOUG: [grits teeth]
Suddenly, their conversation is interrupted by an anguished cry of “NOOOOOOOO” from near the front of the banquet hall.
ELI: What was that?
JAMEIS: Oh, someone probably wasn’t happy with the house the sorting helmet chose for them.
ANTONIO: The sorting helmet?
JAMEIS: Yeah, it chooses your dormitory based on where you belong. Come on, I’ll show you.
He leads them to where a young man is pleading with one of the school administrators. The young man holds the sorting helmet, which is a dull orange in color.
CALEB BRANTLEY: But I could have gone to a contender!
The students surrounding him begin to jeer.
ALL: Brown…house! Brown…house! Brown…house!
JAMEIS: Poor bastard.
CAM: Heh heh, Brown House…[points]…that’s where you’re headed, Antonio Brown!
ANTONIO: Oh, shit! Is that where I’m gonna end up?
JAMEIS: Nah, you’ll be fine. Ain’t nobody that’s been to the Pro Bowl already is gonna end up in Brown House.
DOUG: What house are you in?
JAMEIS: Me? Oh, they put me in the White House. Cause of the whole pussy thing.
CALEB BRANTLEY drops the helmet, which falls towards the floor but suddenly slows before it hits. It floats back upwards into the air and its color fades until it is completely white. Very deliberately, it rotates around until its facemask is pointing directly towards ELI MANNING.
JAMEIS: Uh oh, looks like it’s your turn, Eli! [pushes him forward] Let’s get you sorted!
ELI MANNING steps forward apprehensively. He swallows heavily, then finds his courage and reaches up and takes hold of the helmet. He lowers it over his head and pounds the temples twice with his palms.
SORTING HELMET: Hmm, difficult. Very difficult. Good breeding. Plenty of intangibles, I see. There’s arm talent, oh yes. And a thirst to show everyone you’re every bit as mature as your older brother. But where to put you?
ELI: Not Powder Blue House, not Powder Blue House…
SORTING HELMET: Not Powder Blue House? But it’s so lovely there!
ELI: The local endorsement market is too small!
SORTING HELMET: Not since Powder Blue House changed locations…
ELI: No! Not there! Anywhere else! Please!
SORTING HELMET: [chuckles heartily] Relax, son. We won’t be putting your talents to waste like that. But how do we teach you maturity? How do we convince you to leave behind your childish notions that every knight wears shining armor? That cheaters never prosper? That only “losers” use performing-enhancing substances? Ah yes, I know the perfect place. The selection has been made!
ELI MANNING removes the helmet and marvels at what it has displayed.
ELI: Triangle House? I guess it knows how good I am at Geometry.
JAMEIS: That’s Delta House, dummy.
CAM: What’s Delta House?
JAMEIS: Oh, you’ll find out soon enough. But first…it’s Thanksgiving. And on Thanksgiving we feast…
JAMEIS WINSTON steps forward and reaches onto one of the tables to grab a massive platter that holds a turkey. As he steps back DOUG MARTIN sneaks behind him and sticks out his leg. JAMEIS WINSTON trips over it, loses his balance, and falls backwards.
The turkey, the platter, and all the trimmings fly into the air. Much of it lands on the head of the 6’6″, 275 pound defensive end DAESHON HALL. He rises, enraged. JAMEIS WINSTON steps back, wiggles his eyebrows, then races away. DAESHON HALL chases him around several tables, until Winston finally stops, throws back his yead, and yells…
JAMEIS: FOOD FIGHT!
Happy Thanksgiving, everybody! I hope you all have a fantastic holiday and can’t wait to see you as we close out this season’s home stretch.