Here is a PBC for the ages, the 0-2 ViQueens vs the Lions (0-2 is implied) meet to decide just who are the frauds and who are the Lions.
Will those steroid bloated fat Williams dudes have heart attacks chasing Best around? Will Megatron, Scheffler, and Pettigrew wear out the the pathetic Minnie secodary? Will the Queens continue to play as if under a hypnotic trance from the human sleep aid Coach Chilly?
Will the Lions revamped D line stop APF? Will Percy pull a Pippen and not show up due to a migraine? Will it matter with the new weak-armed Lady Favre? Will the newfound D-line pressure break the bones of the slow, brittle, arthritic Princess Brett? Or will they simply let him fumble and throw INTs around like every play was the last play of the year?
Hey, I’ve had enough of losing to you Borsemen, er, Norsemen in that baggie dome you call home. So climb out of your air mattressess, kiss your sister good morning (remind her again that she doesn’t have to heat up the beer in the baby’s bottle and the dog can clean himself just without her help
) and tell her not to forget to pick you up after the game. You’ll be the one in the drunk-tank with the paper bag on his head. And wet pants. And vomit on your shoes. You know, like any given Sunday.
C'Mon, men of Eastern Dakota. You (yoose for those who live in Minnisoduh) are cordially invited to a paper-bag challenge.