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Ahhh! Have a smile

Guest SirJohn

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Guest SirJohn

July 15, 2005


There isn’t all that much new news at Notre Dame till August 8th, except for us to dream.


I’ve seen Rudy called corn ball. I like it but the first thing is to laugh at yourself before you can laugh at others.


In the mean time I present excerpts from a new movie CRUDELY




(Pronounced Cruddy)


Opening Scene: Sir John is thrown off a Gray Hound bus in front of Notre Dame’s gates. Flashback to where his best friend was severely burned from a Mc Donald’s coffee and found a toe in his Big Mac suing the hell out of everyone.


Upon gaining entrance to Notre Dame’s campus Sir john wanders around in a daze sucking beer till he discovers the stadium.


Squeezing through the locked gate and razor barbed wire he stanched his cuts and dramatically walks up the tunnel to step onto the Notre Dame playing field.


He stands there momentarily holding a paca/away folding cooler filled with Miller beer. The camera pans in slamming into his back. Standing up he gazes at the field when he hears a voice.


(That had been his problem in life. Voices were always whispering in his ear but this was a shout.)


“HEY! You Muther *** creep what are you doing on the field?”


Shading his eyes, Sir John looks up to find someone still sitting in the nose bleed section, probably abandoned by his parents last year.


Sir John grips his only possessions brought from Kentucky tightly and says.


“I’m here to play for the Irish. Burp!”


The man with the voice starts laughing bent over and slipping tumbles all the way down the stands to the bottom breaking several ribs. Though in pain he gasps out.


“Your rotten muther****** shouldn’t you tell Coach Weis first before those five security police rushing you bash your head in? Oh by the way someone call 911 for me.”


“Thanks! That’s exactly, what I will do.” Sir John yells shouldering his beer bag a few steps ahead of Campus police.


Interior shot of Gug, Coach Weis behind a desk reviewing plays. On the wall is a Pin the tail on the Donkey with Ty’s photograph for a head, I think.


Door opens Angela Joli look alike enters with her head shaven. She’s vowed not to grow hair till there is a National Championship.


“Coach Weis there is this Bleeding bashed up punk stinking of beer that wishes to see you.”


“I don’t understand you mean Ty is back already?”


“No! He says he is Sir John or call him Cruddy.”


“Well send him in. But don’t let him bleed on the new carpet, Jenkins will kill me.”


“Shall I close the door?”


“Heck no. Don’t leave me alone with some nut case,”


“Coach we do not play Ohio State this year, but here he is.”


Sir John enters handing empty beer can to secretary as she leaves the office.


Both stare at each other. A couple hundred thousand dollars worth of film and crew pay passes before Sir John says remembers his lines and says.


“Coach. I’m Sir John. They call me Cruddy. I’m here to play for you.


Laughing, Coach Weis picks himself up off the floor straightens his chair to sit behind his desk, almost breaking his ankle in a hole Ty had the architects put in the office floor to practice his putting.


Sir John opens another beer out of his pack taking a sip.


“Coach all my life, Coach Dan, my old head coach at high school called me a dreamer. I would fall asleep in strategy meetings dreaming.


He would tell me often he hoped I would soon leave his team and play for Notre Dame. That was always a mystery to me he was a big Michigan fan.


Anyway, I wasn’t the fastest guy on the team or the quickest, my jumping sucked, my reaction time was terrible but I was always in there, clogging the team. I helped doing a bit of plumbing on the side.”


Coach Weis “Yack!”


Sir John. “My grades were never the best. I had trouble staying awake in Theology, Biology, Math, History and English but I think it’s a sleeping disorder I can overcome.”


“Old man...I mean son we simply have no more football scholarship to offer.”


“That’s no problem Coach I don’t intend to study or go to class anyway. Just play football.


Coach Weis get’s up from his chair approaching, Sir John.


“Son, you’re in the wrong office. Why don’t you try Urban down in Florida?”


“Coach my beer in here will not last for a trip that far. Will you at least give me a look?”


“I thought I gave you several already. But I’ll give you one more.”


“Thanks Coach.” Shakes Coach Weis hand leaves, telling bald secretary she should shave her legs. Sir John starts tap dancing down Gug staircase from coaches office with confused Notre Dame Fight song and Yankee Doodle Dandy a la Jimmy Cagney music playing.


Trips, then falls to bottom picks self up and rushes to find a pawn shop to finance his bus trip to Florida without Florida booster help.


Coach Weis chuckles to himself, walks behind desk and starts shuffling 2005 team papers. He then discovers his $15,000 plus Super Bowl ring is missing from his finger after shaking hands with Sir John.


Sir John :lol: :lol:

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