Though it's not our bread and butter, it's hard to deny the skit is one of the sports blogosphere's most versatile forms of comedy, and I'd be remiss if I didn't make as much of an ass out of myself trying to do that genre as I have with FJM-style deconstructions and Deadspin-esque "news" items.
Today's entry is fresh off the news that the Marvin Harrison case isn't quite going away just yet. Oh, and in case you have no idea what I'm referencing, look here for the short version. Anyway, enjoy.
[A bar in Philly. The bathroom door opens in a distinctly non-flying manner.]
Dennis: Dude, seriously...
Dennis: You said you'd clean the toilet! It stinks like yesterday's urine in there.
Mac: Well, that's probably because it is...
Dennis: You know what I mean.
Mac: I do, I just think if you put more work into your quips we'd get more done around here.
Dennis: How does that even make sense?
Mac: Whatever dude, it does.
Mac: Anyway, that's Marvin work.
Dennis: You know Marvin's not around anymore.
Mac: Goddamn cops. Used to be America around here. You can't bust up one little brawl anymore without Johnny and Jenny Law swooping in.
Dennis: And you know who suffers? Our toilet, that's who. I'm pissed.
Dennis: You want to shoot the gun?
Mac: Yes, yes I do.
[Looks for the gun.]
Mac: Dude, it's not there...
Dennis: That's not possible, that's...
[Marvin's apartment. The phone rings.]
Mac: Where the hell is the gun?
Marvin: The what now?
Mac: The gun, dude!
Mac: Where is it?
Mac: What the hell does that mean?
Marvin: It's...with me.
Mac: Dude, we want the gun. We need to blow off some steam.
Mac: Why do you even have the gun anyway? You know the cops are still on your ass.
Marvin: I know. I just...I needed it.
Mac: Marvin, listen to me - have you still got the gun fever?
Marvin: No...of course...
[Cocks gun. Sips beer. Uncocks gun.]
Mac: Look, we'll be right over.
[Hangs up. Someone knocks on the door.]
Marvin: That was fast.
Voice: Dammit Harrison, open this door right now! We need to discuss certain matters.
Marvin: Be right there!
[Puts gun in pants.]
Roger: Thanks for agreeing to meet with me, Marvin.
Marvin: Of course. Anything I can do to help.
Roger: You know this whole ongoing investigation thing...it's reflecting poorly on the league, Marvin.
Marvin: I'm sorry to hear that.
Roger: Believe me, so am I. Look, if this isn't resolved soon, I'm going to have to suspend...
[Marvin stretches, revealing his midriff and the gun contained therein.]
Roger: What the hell is that?
Marvin: Oh...THAT! Right, well, look, Mr. Commish, let me break this down for you. I haven't straightened things out yet, OK? Could happen to anyone, you know? But I will, I will make this thing go away. Because I've got ways, Rog, I've got ways. Do, do you follow me?
Marvin: Roger, what is this, your silence impression? Come on, nice and loud with a big boy voice. Do...you...follow me?
Marvin: Good enough. I'll see you for the Hall of Fame game, yes?
Marvin: Good. Now get going.
[Closes door. Exhales, clutching the beautiful, beautiful gun. Whispering.]
Marvin: Thank you thank you thank you...
Dennis: So everything's sorted out?
Marvin: Looks that way.
Marvin: Pretty much.
Dennis: So, can I have the gun?
Marvin: Oh...right. Yeah, let me get it for you.
Marvin: Wait, which one did you want?