Mike and Willa Meet a New Teammate

Willa: Oh, Mike. What a romantic evening. I never noticed the subtle nuances of Brendan Fraser’s dunderheadedness!

Mike: Hold on, sweetie. You’ve got something in your teeth. It’s some sediment from the Charles Shaw Shiraz.

Willa: Yes, the wine was fantastic, too! You didn’t settle for the merlot, oh no! You went the exotic route!

Mike: It was worth the 10 dead immigrant farmers as long as it made you happy, honey.

Willa: Only one thing left to make this night perfect …

Mike: Five minutes of hide the sausage.

Willa (Kisses Mike): Haha, you’d better make me gush like a headless Tarantino character if you wanna make me happy …


A text message?

The session is going well J

Huh? What does that mean?



Willa: It came from the closet.

Opens door

Sean: What’s up, Queen Cocksucker?

Mike: SEAN? Goddamnit! How’d you get in here?

Sean: That’s not important right now, muffsniffer. What is important is that you’re putting little Sean to sleep, no matter how hard I massage him, by standing here doing nothing instead of cashing in whatever time you have left after popping that little blue pill.

Willa: How’d you get my phone number?

Sean: Hull’s not just the GM; he’s the Fun Ambassador, and what’s more fun than a gold-digging, trick-turning, washed-up popstar? That’s why he gave me your number. Come on, get with the frotteurism, fellatio, and fucking. I want my dick to be stiffer than Willa’s tits.

Willa: HOW RUDE!

Sean: Oh, who’re you kidding, you fucking fugly bitch? That surgery gave you a stepping stone to play your hero: Anna Nicole. You both married old coots for their money, now you just have to wait for Methuselah to meet Pelle Lindbergh.


Sean: You know, I think I will. This place is gayer than AIDS. We’ve got Grampa Time and his soon-to-be flaccid dong and a woman who’s more plastic than a blow-up doll in a poorly-lit room on a bed you bought from The Mattress Store. No candles? No incense? And red satin sheets? Is this your house or a brothel?

Worst place to masturbate, ever.

Punches Modano in the face and knocks him out

I’ll be back tomorrow with an interior designer. You shitkickers need to class up this chamber of octogenerian poon if I’m going to make sock babies.

Avery leaves

Willa: Looks like it’s you and me, Rampant Rabbit. AGAIN.



  1. Favorite series ever.

    Willa Ford fugly? Really?

  2. It’s not me making the call on looks. Mrs. Bettman has everything I like in a woman.

  3. So full of win.

  4. Oh. Fuck. EPIC WIN!

    Sean Avery is trapped in the closet
    I want him out of the closet
    Then I grabbed my gun…

  5. Another classic, but for true greatness you need to have Avery and someone else (Robidas or Lehtinen maybe?) re-enacting Jay and Silent Bob dialogue. I could totally see our Cock-Knocker singing about weed, or introducing himself to women by asking the oh-so-polite “What up bitches? What up sluts?”

  6. Sup Sluts is my pick up line…

  7. […] Mike: Finally, we’re alone. Baby, I promise this time, there won’t be any unwanted interruptions. […]

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