Post by def on Apr 25, 2019 22:04:25 GMT -6
Originally posted 10 years ago today...
Our first installment takes place in Felix's hometown, after a hard day mining the oil field...
It was a Wednesday which meant the Free Agent deadline for all NFL Teams was closing in fast.
Felix The Fucked Up Football God by night walked down to his sound proof basement. It was 5 p.m. when he bit his lip and hooked himself up to VS-500, a menacing amalgamation of top secret technology given to him by the government to create a fairer and more balanced NFL.
He strapped himself into the leather seat, opened up a pint of 151 and began to guzzle. When he was good and ripped he fastened a car battery to a set of jumper cables and then secured them to his nipples. When he finished the high-octane alcohol the eyes in Felix’s head rolled back and he clicked the switch. It was dangerous now and he knew he might not wake up, but too much was riding on his transformation. The fate of football all over this country was something not to be sneezed at. Then Zap!
Straightened out like a piece of teak wood the electricity surged through Felix The Fucked Up Football Gods head, coursing through his veins and visions of dead football giants began to flutter midst his synapses. Knute, the pet pooch peered up then ran off, spit drooled out of his mouth when Friday morning he awoke to the ghostly image of Bobby Layne, hunkered down right beside him.
“Bobby Layne, who must I seek out for the betterment of Detroit football?” asked Felix The Fucked Up Football God.
“This is a most important question. Let me summon the master,” said the goddamn ghost. Vince Lombardi appeared, the Corpse, the all-powerful all-knowing godhead of everything football.
“Felix your mission if you choose to accept it is to fly to Denver and bring back Jay Cutler,” said the vision and poof it was gone.
Felix got into his Football God Spaghetti Flyer and off he went.
When he arrived in Denver, the cold air hit him like a frozen brick. Whap!
In his trusty Lions jockstrap he hit the thermostat and immediately his body warmed up. The fence to Denver Stadium stretched forty feet high so Felix The Fucked Up Football God pulled a rope from his jock and threw it over. When he got inside, Jay Cutler was taking interviews. So Felix got into a disguise. Armed as Bill Bonds with a microphone he pulled Cutler to the side and when no one was looking he whisked him into his Spaghetti Flyer. Poof! And he was gone.
William Clay Ford was first to greet Cutler who liked the old man and after a case of beer, Jay Cutler was convinced that Detroit was where he should sign.
And with that Felix The Fucked Up Football God was gone, back to his dojo and ready for work at the oil fields come Monday.
Our first installment takes place in Felix's hometown, after a hard day mining the oil field...
It was a Wednesday which meant the Free Agent deadline for all NFL Teams was closing in fast.
Felix The Fucked Up Football God by night walked down to his sound proof basement. It was 5 p.m. when he bit his lip and hooked himself up to VS-500, a menacing amalgamation of top secret technology given to him by the government to create a fairer and more balanced NFL.
He strapped himself into the leather seat, opened up a pint of 151 and began to guzzle. When he was good and ripped he fastened a car battery to a set of jumper cables and then secured them to his nipples. When he finished the high-octane alcohol the eyes in Felix’s head rolled back and he clicked the switch. It was dangerous now and he knew he might not wake up, but too much was riding on his transformation. The fate of football all over this country was something not to be sneezed at. Then Zap!
Straightened out like a piece of teak wood the electricity surged through Felix The Fucked Up Football Gods head, coursing through his veins and visions of dead football giants began to flutter midst his synapses. Knute, the pet pooch peered up then ran off, spit drooled out of his mouth when Friday morning he awoke to the ghostly image of Bobby Layne, hunkered down right beside him.
“Bobby Layne, who must I seek out for the betterment of Detroit football?” asked Felix The Fucked Up Football God.
“This is a most important question. Let me summon the master,” said the goddamn ghost. Vince Lombardi appeared, the Corpse, the all-powerful all-knowing godhead of everything football.
“Felix your mission if you choose to accept it is to fly to Denver and bring back Jay Cutler,” said the vision and poof it was gone.
Felix got into his Football God Spaghetti Flyer and off he went.
When he arrived in Denver, the cold air hit him like a frozen brick. Whap!
In his trusty Lions jockstrap he hit the thermostat and immediately his body warmed up. The fence to Denver Stadium stretched forty feet high so Felix The Fucked Up Football God pulled a rope from his jock and threw it over. When he got inside, Jay Cutler was taking interviews. So Felix got into a disguise. Armed as Bill Bonds with a microphone he pulled Cutler to the side and when no one was looking he whisked him into his Spaghetti Flyer. Poof! And he was gone.
William Clay Ford was first to greet Cutler who liked the old man and after a case of beer, Jay Cutler was convinced that Detroit was where he should sign.
And with that Felix The Fucked Up Football God was gone, back to his dojo and ready for work at the oil fields come Monday.