j leman

PREVIOUSLY IN OUR STORY: Many ridiculous things happened! Desmond Howard's lower body was cloned by a nefarious organization bent on Michigan world domination. It was subsequently abducted by J Leman. Seven years later, Leman captured Tom Brady and brought him before Bob Zook and a duck, whereupon James Earl Jones and Lawrence Kasdan convinced Leman his actions were un-American, whereupon he freed Tom Brady, whereupon Tom Brady impressively KICKED the duck into a cloning machine, whereupon Bob Zook released Adrian Clayborn to devastatingly SACK Tom Brady into the same cloning machine, whereupon said cloning machine said a lot of ominous stuff and did this:

As the smoke clears, three separate pockets of life stir…

INT. RUINED URBANA GENETICS LAB—SUB-BASEMENT B1. 1999.

Urrrrr.

What the…?

Quack.

Oh my God! Poor thing. I have to get you out of here.

Qua—. On second and long Michigan will run a draw or throw a screen. Third and long pass. Punt. Waggle comes after approximately 3.5 successful runs on drive; give or take x, where x is a complicated polynomial expression elided. Quack. Jim Herrmann's favorite defense in a late-game situation is called "Charmin." Yost. Quack. Quack.

We have to go!

INT. RUINED URBANA GENETICS LAB—SUB-BASEMENT B1. 1999.

Urrrr.

 

What the…?

HELLO ITS VERY NICE TO MEET YOU IM FEELING VERY MOBILE AT THE MOMENT YES YES LETS DO SOMETHING DO YOU LIKE CHESS I CAN PLAY CHESS IN TWO SECONDS FLAT

There they are!

No!

[Impressive KICK!]

Noooooooo!

CHECKMATE.

How did you do that?

LETS GO SOMEWHERE FAST

INT. RUINED URBANA GENETICS LAB—SUB-BASEMENT B1. 1999.

Urrrr.

 

What the…?

Quack.

What happened?

AFLAC!

Quack.

I see.

AFLAC!

Have I told you about my brother Ron? Greatest football coach in the universe, really.

AFLAC!

EXT. SUSPICIOUSLY SMOKING FIELD OUTSIDE OF URBANA. 1999.

Quack. 107,501. Quack. Most all time victories. Quack. The rush linebacker position is basically a defensive end.

Boy, you know a lot about Michigan.

Quack. Require sustenance.

All I've got is this orange juice. Very American drink, orange juice.

Juice. Desire Juice. Juice. Juice.

Here. Now what are we going to call you?

EXT. SUSPICIOUSLY SMOKING FIELD OUTSIDE OF URBANA. 1999.

So… now what?

NOW EVERYTHING WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE [Starts running to and fro, disappears too quickly to believe. A trail of smoke stretches to the horizon.]

Great.

[An ENORMOUS BUS FULL OF SCANTILY CLAD MODELS pulls up.]

Need a ride?

EXT. SUSPICIOUSLY SMOKING FIELD OUTSIDE OF URBANA. 1999.

I guess I need a new nefarious plot. I always think better with a little help.

[expands Bob Zook's mind, reminds everyone not to try this at home unless you want to think that facial hair is a good idea.]

Quack.

Okay, here.

[when inhaled by half-human, half-duck hybrid becomes a permanent feature of the creature's personality]

Quaaaaack. Munch. Munch.

HA HA DUCK MUNCHIES THAT IS SO FUNNY

Yoink!

Aww, now what am I going to watch eat?

INT. NEW ENGLAND PATRIOTS MEETING ROOM. FEBRUARY 2002.

Quack.

  Goddammit, where's Brady? Get him in here again.

Quack.

He says the Rams' two-minute defense has obvious weaknesses against four verticals.

You got all that from "quack"?

Definitely. I'm telling you, he gives us a decided schematic advantage.

To me he just seems like a hideously malformed being with an enormous waist that says "quack" all the time.

He's a super genius. Srsly.

Well, all right. Maybe that tip will come in handy tomorrow. I've got to go meet with the defense.

Quack.

Have I ever told you you're head coach material?

Brady. Come in, Brady.

Brady here.

Report on The Project.

After I win the Super Bowl tomorrow I calculate a 97% chance the abomination ascends to the head coaching job at Notre Dame.

 

EXT. DEERFIELD BEACH HIGH SCHOOL FOOTBALL FIELD, 2007

ZOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM

Oh my God. This kid is going to run for a billion yards.

ZIP ZIP ZIP ZIP ZIP ZIP ZIP ZIP ZIP

Oh my God. This kid is going to throw for a billion yards.

I JUST PLAYED SIXTEEN GAMES OF CHESS AND SMILED WITH THE WATTAGE OF A THOUSAND SUNS

  Oh my Go—hackachakahcakakach. [/expires]

No one must know about our secret installation. Now I just have to figure out how to get this kid to complete 45% of his passes and run for under 600 yards.

Let me take care of that.

Quack.

EXT. MICHIGAN STADIUM, MICHIGAN VS ILLINOIS.  2008

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. He's coming. He's like a 500-foot-tall robot or something.

Quack. Also, given the Coriolis effect at these exact GPS coordinates I calculate that if I touch you exactly two point three centimeters above your right clavicle…

INT. NEWSTERBAAN FIELD HOUSE. AUGUST 2009.

As you can see, the long-awaited results of our cloning projected have paid off even better than we expected. This year you go to a bowl or we block out the sun above Ann Arbor.

You don't think that's a little drastic?

No. This is Michigan.

  QUAAAAAAACK

Goddammit, get Brady in here again. This is going to take more time than I thought.

EXT. MEMORIAL STADIUM, MICHIGAN VS ILLINOIS. 2009

No! Not again!

All too easy.

EXT. EVERY OTHER ILLINOIS GAME, 2006-2009

DO SOMETHING!

Quack.

DO SOMETHING OTHER THAN THAT!

EXT. DIRT PRACTICE FIELD. SUMMER 2010.

EXT. MICHIGAN STADIUM, MICHIGAN VS UCONN, 2010.

ZOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM

Not in the face!

ZIP ZIP ZIP ZIP ZIP ZIP ZIP ZIP

Not in the face!

VRRRREEEEEEESHOWWWWWWWWWWWWW

 

Not there either.

TO BE CONTINUED… BY EVENTS IN THE REAL WORLD! THIS TOTALLY HAPPENED!

Obviously two things:

1. Depending on whether or not BHGP likes it, this is either an homage to or straight ripoff of their posts in this vein, down to J Leman's presence. I have tried to make this up to them in the content. Also, the J Leman picture was first brought to the world in those Big Ten team previews I used to do.
2. I can't confirm that this is true, if you know what I mean.

INT. CLANDESTINE NORTH CAMPUS GENETICS LAB—MEETING ROOM. 1992

A conference table is surrounded by hooded figures. One throws back the hood, revealing himself to be STEPHEN ROSS, super rich guy. Also seated are JAMES EARL JONES, sith lord, and DOOMED J. SCIENTIST, a scientist.

I hereby bring this meeting of the Evil Michigan World Domination Illuminati to order. First order of business: the Desmond Howard cloning situation.

There have been some… issues. We have successfully dealt with the flippers, but it came at a cost.

You have failed me for the last time, Doomed Scientist.

haacckckackaackak

Always with the force choke, James. Can we get past the bit where you tell him his lack of faith is… disturbing and get on with it.

I still don't see why we can't build a football stadium in the wave field and get Tom Harmon back.

Yes, always with the force choke and the building it and the coming. Moving on. Doomed scientist?

We have now perfectly replicated Desmond Howard's lower body. There are some problems with the torso. As you can see on my powerpoint--

You have failed me—

Yes, for the last time. Spit it out, Doomed Scientist.

The main problem with the torso is that there isn't one. It just kind of… stops.

…

I find its lack of torso—

Yes, yes, disturbing. For the record, I do too. You have created a mindless abomination that can accelerate to full speed in half a second, stop on a dime, and juke like there's no tomorrow. Shoot it in he head.

It doesn't have a head.

Then have Jones mystically force choke it to death. Next order of business: the destruction of Notre Dame football.

I am positioning Texas A&M defensive coordinator Bob Davie to be the droid Lou Holtz is looking for.

INT. CLANDESTINE NORTH CAMPUS GENETICS LAB—SUB-BASEMENT B1. 1992.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry it has to end like this.

  …

You're just a torso! Don't look at me like that.

…

I can't do this. We must escape!

  Come with me.

J Leman?

It is I.

Aren't you seven?

What's your point?

Nothing. Let's go.

Halt!

  BLAM BLAM BLAM

Noooooooooo… [/expires]

[Ninja CHOP!]

Noooooooo…

Let's go, Desmond Howard lower body. I have plans for you.

…

INT. CLANDESTINE URBANA GENETICS LAB—SUB-BASEMENT B1. 1999.

Another meeting room. BOB ZOOK, Ron Zook's evil but lazy twin, and a DUCK discuss dark matters.

Mwahahaha! Seven years of mustache twirling and pot smoking are about to pay off tonight!

  You had better hope this plot works better than your last dozen, Zook. My patience runs thin. My pit of ravenous piranhas grows hungry. We must repay our arch-rivals for the generations who have endured nothing but humiliation!

Oh, it will. Hark: here comes the strike team now.

I have done as you asked, distasteful as it is.

mrphpmph.

What's he's saying?

No doubt something like "you'll never get away with this, Hyper-Intelligent Duck That Secretly Runs Illinois." But I will. Mwa. Mwa haahahahaahaa!

  Mwahahahahahaha!

BOOM.

mrprhphphp.

Oh, let's listen. I love it when doomed heroes blather on.

[removes gag]

You'll never get away with this, Cooper!

I said arch-rivals!

And by this you mean…

You know, your most hated rival!

Ohio State.

No! Other than Ohio State!

All right, then. You'll never get away with this, Davie!

No, your really really most hated serious very serious rival. Who you share a debilitating mutual hatred of! Not Notre Dame!

You'll never get away with this, Saban?

Aaaaaaaargh!

Alvarez? No… wait, I've got it. Mason!  You'll take the Little Brown Jug from my cold, dead hands!

No! How many times do I have…

[Tom Brady tries to remember all of the teams in the Big Ten. Meanwhile, GHOSTLY APPARITIONS of James Earl Jones and LAWRENCE KASDAN materialize nearby…]

  J. I am your father.

Noooooooooooooo! You're not my father!

Search your heart. You know it to be true.

Oh. My. God.

I told you it would work.

Free Tom Brady. This is un-American. Victories are born on the field, not in genetics labs.

You speak truth. [Ninja CHOP!]

…I'm sorry, I'll get it in a second. You'll never get away with this, whoever Northwestern's coach is!

If I didn't need you for my diabolical plots I would impale you on my bill.

Also I appear to be free. [Impressive KICK!]

[flies towards complicated, ominous looking technological thing with glass tubing containing a familiar set of disembodied legs]

No! Release the defensive ends!

I am free.

My one weakness! Lo, I am stripped of my merry band of protectors! Wait, aren't you 11?

The least realistic part of this is not my age but the idea Bob Zook and a duck could capture me. Allow me to take my rage out on you. [Devastating SACK!]

[flies towards same ominous technological thing]

[Thunderous CRASH!]

[Similarly thunderous CRASH!]

BZZZTERERFFFFFZZZZEDDDD CLONE SEQUENCE ERROR. MULTIPLE ORGANISMS. CROSS PRODUCT. CROSS PRODUCT. CROSS PRODUCT. MULTIDIMENSIONAL ARRAY. EIGENVECTOR. COMBINATION IN PROGRESS. OVERLOAD. OVERLOAD.

WHAT WILL HAPPEN TO DESMOND HOWARD'S DISEMBODIED LEGS? WILL BOB ZOOK FACE HIS COMEUPPANCE? WILL TOM BRADY'S BEAUTIFUL FACE BE MANGLED? WILL BLACK HEART GOLD PANTS ORGANIZE A DENIAL OF SERVICE ATTACK ON MGOBLOG? STAY TUNED FOR PART 2: THE INTEGRATION AND INFILTRATION. TOMORROW!

The third of July, 1776: Ben Franklin buys some cigarettes and sleeps with a French lady. Let's celebrate by not going to work. Yes, I'm taking the day off, like everyone in an office. I must prepare for the tubemeatening.

Mandatory J Leman photo:

Optional Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers animated GIF:

See you Monday.