Your teams are failures.
[ Burch has been hogging the television in the main room all morning and afternoon. After many screams and fits thrown, his last hope game has come to an end. ]
NO! Goddamn you! No!
[ He falls to his knees dramatically, throwing his hands up towards the ceiling, as if begging whatever football gods will bother to hear his plea. His next scream almost sounds like words, but is far too garbled for anyone to make out what he has just said, if he's said anything at all.
Griz. Cats. Both have failed him. And in an embarrassing display against the stupidest state in the union. A school that had just transfered up a division. And they--he--could beat them.
Burch is shaking his arms around wildly, forgetting the remote is still in his hand. After one strong shake from his popcorn-salt-covered, beer-condensation-riddled hand, the remote goes flying forward, wedging itself into the wall. ]
Oh, shit.
[ Burch stands quietly, waiting for the inevitable HQ retribution. ]
NO! Goddamn you! No!
[ He falls to his knees dramatically, throwing his hands up towards the ceiling, as if begging whatever football gods will bother to hear his plea. His next scream almost sounds like words, but is far too garbled for anyone to make out what he has just said, if he's said anything at all.
Griz. Cats. Both have failed him. And in an embarrassing display against the stupidest state in the union. A school that had just transfered up a division. And they--he--could beat them.
Burch is shaking his arms around wildly, forgetting the remote is still in his hand. After one strong shake from his popcorn-salt-covered, beer-condensation-riddled hand, the remote goes flying forward, wedging itself into the wall. ]
Oh, shit.
[ Burch stands quietly, waiting for the inevitable HQ retribution. ]