Inside Bill Belichick’s Office – As Bill Studies Secret Practice Tape At His Desk, The Phone Rings
Bill Belichick: This is Bill, who the **** is this?
Bob Kraft: God damnit, Bill! I told you to stop answering the phone like that. Anyway, what the **** kind of ship have you been running the last few months? I swear, every single time I go somewhere on vacation, I get a call from somebody in the PR group saying that questionable pictures of a drunken Rob keep popping up on the internet. All I want is to **** my whores in peace, Bill. Is that really so much to ask?
Belichick: What do you want me to do, Bob? I’m not his dad. He’s an adult. He can make his own decisions. Besides, he’s a “bro.” That’s just what he does.
Kraft: Put a ******* end to it! That’s what! I don’t care if he’s a brother, sister, cousin or dad. I’m forking over a ******** of cash for this Swedish villa, and if I have one more 3-way ******* interrupted because of Rob’s ****, it’s going to be your ass, Bill. I’ll trade away that mother ****** before you know what hit you.
Belichick: We both know you would never do that. The kid is a rockstar.
Kraft: Try me, mother ******. [to somebody in the background] Where do you think you’re going, *****? I paid for 13 days, and I have enough viagra and blow to keep myself up and hard the whole time… No! I don’t give a **** how tired you are, you can’t have any! Now get back on the ground and keep sucking! [hangs up the phone]
Belichick: God damnit. [clicks intercom] Get Rob in here. Now!
Receptionist: Yes, master.
A few minutes pass.
Receptionist: [over intercom] I have Rob here, sir.
Belichick: Send him in.
Belichick presses a button that conceals the monitors behind a sliding mahogany bookcase. The Gronk enters.
The Gronk: What’s good, Brostradamus?
Belichick: Sup, Mr. Brojangles? Look, we need to talk.
The Gronk: Dude, you know you don’t need to thank me. The sluts I sent up here yesterday were pro-boner, as always.
Belichick: No, no. It’s not about that. Although they were top notch. Listen for a second, because from one bro to another, this is going to be hard to say.
The Gronk: This sounds serious, bro.
Belichick: It is. I got a call from the Kraft-man. You need to cool it for awhile. We’re going to need you to operate on the bro-down until training camp starts back up.
The Gronk: Why?! I’ve been bro-ing out so hard, lately. It’s been awesome! Chasin’ sluts and poundin’ butts! That’s just how I roll!
Belichick: I know it is, and if it were my call, I’d let you bro-out until the cows came home, but it’s not my call. Those whiny ******* in PR keep calling Kraft, and he’s getting pissed.
The Gronk: What do you mean, “they keep calling him?” Don’t they know that he’s at Slut Fest 9, crushing box right now?
Belichick: Yes, they know that! But those prudes don’t respect a man’s right to bone. Look, I don’t like this any more than you do, but you need to settle down.
The Gronk: Do my ears deceive me? Am I really being told to cut the party short, all because some 4/10s in PR are mad about some pictures getting over-bro-own? If I gave those hos a taste of The Gronk, I promise you they’d change their tone in a heartbeat.
Belichick: We both know that’s true, but all it takes is one ungrateful deepthroat to run to the media and **** this up for all of us, and we can’t afford that risk. If it will make you feel better, you know you can always bro-down with some sluts in my penthouse on the Harbor. It’s like a goddamn carousel I’m running over there these days.
The Gronk: [sighs] ****, brah. I guess I can try to operate on the down-bro, but I can’t make any promises.
Belichick: That’s all I ask, Bromaha.
They exchange a super-chill bro hug.
Belichick: Oh, yeah. Can you send up a few more girls when you leave?
The Gronk: Of course, dude. What kind do you want today?
Belichick: Two asians, one black one, and three Filipinos. I’ve been working on something I want to try out.
The Gronk: They’ll be up in 10 minutes. I’ll get out of here now so you can get ready.
Belichick: You’re the brost of the town. Thank you.
The Gronk and Belichick exchange a knowing nod. The Gronk leaves.
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