Caleb Sturgis Takes a Ride

EXTERIOR – CHARGERS PRACTICE FACILITY, COSTA MESA, CA – MIDDAY

[CALEB STURGIS walks alone to his car following Monday’s walk-through. He seems a bit forlorn, yet still has the semblance of an optimistic smile on face. As he is a few feet from his car, another vehicle rolls up]

[CAR DOOR FLIES OPEN]

PHILIP RIVERS: Howdy there, Caleb.

STURGIS: Oh, hey there, Phil. Good recap of the game today, huh?

RIVERS: Uh, yeah, sure was. Hey, sorry, I’m in a bit of a rush to beat the traffic. Did you get my text from earlier?

STURGIS: Huh? Oh, no, sorry. I must’ve missed it.

STURGIS: [Nervously] So, uh, what’s up?

RIVERS: Oh, I was wondering if you wanted to go for a ride. I’m heading home for the day, and my wife is making 7 of those Costco lasagnas for dinner tonight, and you’d be welcome to stay if you wanted.

STURGIS: [Surprised] What, really? You mean it…?! Of course, I’d love to!  What about my car though?

RIVERS: Oh, my driver can drop you back off here later if you’d like.

STURGIS: Wow, thanks! [Gets into the car]

STURGIS: This is incredible! It’s even more amazing than what I heard!

RIVERS: Aw shucks, thanks. I needed something to keep me occupied on my commutes.

STURGIS: Man, I would love to have something like this. After I got this job, I got an old truck, since I only have [clears throat] a little left.

STURGIS: [Oblivious] So, how long is the drive?

RIVERS: Well, it’s about two and a half hours without traffic, sooo…

[Five hours later]

STURGIS: …I’m just saying you guys get a lot more opportunities than we do.

[[The vehicle rolls to a stop and the sound of machines whir to life just outside the doors]

RIVERS: [Through gritted teeth] We’re here.

STURGIS: We are?! Oh, okay. Well, anyway, that’s the condensed version of why I think kickers have a harder job than you quarterbacks. Sorry to have to come up short there.

[Both men exit the vehicle as STURGIS examines the room]

STURGIS: Oh wow, is this your garage? Sure is big.

RIVERS: Heh, yeah. Lots of kids, you know. Need lots of space…

STURGIS: It just seems kinda empty.

RIVERS: Say, why don’t you just go on in and say hi to the Mrs.? I’ve got to haul some of my gear inside.

STURGIS: Oh? Can I help?

RIVERS: No, no, I’ve got it. I’ll be right behind you. Close the door tight until it clicks though; the wife get awful sore when someone lets any of the A/C out.

STURGIS: Sure thing, buddy! [Pulls open large metal door and disappears into the blackness.]

[CLICK]

STURGIS: [Muffled] Hello? Tiffany? Sure is dark in here. And what kind of meat is in that lasagna? It sure is… potent!

RIVERS: HEY SHANKAPOTOMUS, WHEN YOU’RE SUCKING THE DEVIL’S HORNED KNOB, TELL HIM RIVERS SENT YA! [Gets back in the car as it speeds off]

STURGIS: [Muffled] Huh? Phil? I can’t hear you! Floor sure is wet, and… lumpy in here too… Oh, hey! There’s someone!

???: [Muffled] WHO DARES TO DISTURB THE MIGHTY BOLTMAN WITHIN HIS CHAMBERS WHILE HE TOTALLY STILL ISN’T MASTURBATING WITH THE BLOOD OF ANOTHER DEAD SPANOS?

STURGIS: [Muffled] Bolt…man? Is that you, Gunner? You’ve got quite the mouth on you for such a young man.

???: [Muffled] WHAT’S THIS? THE MORTAL BEARS THE MARK OF THE HERETIC?! OH HO HO, WHAT A FOOLISH HUMAN YOU ARE TO WANDER HERE, AND WHAT A GLORIOUS DAY FOR THE DEHYDRATED BOLTMAN! OOOOOOOHHHHHHH YEEEEAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!! [The unmistakable sound of shredding air guitar fills the room]

STURGIS: [Muffled] Hey, careful there, son. Phil?! Can you please–

[Screams echo around the chamber and slowly fade in the empty abyss]

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Low Commander of the Super Soldiers
Low Commander of the Super Soldiers is a native North County San Diegan with an affinity for the Padres, beer, whiskey, punk rock, video games and the end of days. If you eat a fish taco with a fork in his presence, you may lose your hand.
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Old School Zero

In my head, BOLTMAN sends the legs of consumed kickers to Mike Scifres and Darren Bennett, one each, cured like prosciutto, for some important but undefined purpose. Probably to keep the curse against special teams players away from them.

SonOfSpam

Pissed Off Low Commander is the best author since syphilitic Marquis de Sade.

I thought Rivers was just gonna leave him in the woods, but your ending was MUCH better.

Downfield Matriculator

Caleb Sturgis? Sounds right out of Children of the Corn. But I never knew it was Boltman out roaming those fields.

blaxabbath

King Hippo

I hope they all get HuntaAIDS and die.

Yours in Christ, Hippo

Senor Weaselo

Paging Blair Walsh!

BrettFavresColonoscopy

Better than even money than Marmalard has a murder garage for shitty scrub teammates and non-Tomsula hobos.

SonOfSpam

And atheists.

Rikki-Tikki-Deadly

[shows everyone her tits]

“What, I thought you said this was Sturgis?”

– a pill-addled Cindy McCain

LemonJello

“Shit, get me another whisky and rye.”
-Don McLean

King Hippo

wait, she shows tits and is pill-friendly? You got a number??

nomonkeyfun

Plus she’s an heiress. On the downside you have fellate a dead old man 24/7, or at least watch on while she does it.

King Hippo

I don’t have to work, plus all the opiates I can ingest, plus she’s rail thin? I can manage.

blaxabbath

“I’ll eat that!”

-Meghan McCain, to anything

Ian Scott McCormick

You know, without the comma in the So Long Assholes tag, it really just sounds like we’re describing really long assholes.

King Hippo

it can be two things

blaxabbath

The below comment contains spoilers re: Halloween (film – 2018):

If boltman were a thrasher flick villain, who at DFO wouldn’t be the cookey doctor that cuts his loose just to watch the beauty of his work?

blaxabbath

Any player not elected to the HOF on the first ballot must be sacrificed to His Boltiness!

LemonJello

AWWWWWWW YISSSSSSSSSS!!!111!!!!eleven!!!!!
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