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"So, Tommybug!" Seacrest said, all white-eyed and caffeinated. "Did you have any idea you were about to be Kringled this Christmas?"
"Sure didn't, Rye," I said. "I guess I'm the Little Dummer Boy."
Seacrest howled with laughter, though his hair didn't move an inch.
I was hotter than a $6 pistol. It pissed me off being made the sucker like that--by my girl, by my father, by my favorite network. And that's when I had an idea.
Just as Seacrest was saying, "So that wraps up another--" I used my two gloves to yank the mike back from him and said, "By the way, Ryan, who drugged me?"
Seacrest's makeup about fell off. The lead producer's eyes went wide as Frisbees.
"Ha! Good to see you haven't lost that great sense of humor, Tommy Bug!" Seacrest tried to say into the mike I was pulling away from him. "Well, that's all--"
I kicked his legs out from under him and said, "Yeah, feels like some kind of Roofie. Whose idea was that? Was it my mom's? 'Cuz she said she gave me steroids but--"
And that's when the house lights came up.
"We're off!" one of the producers hollered. "Somebody get me corporate!"