Conversations with God: Rex Grossman

SPECIAL GUEST STAR
Rex Grossman

(Rex Grossman is walking along the lakefront in downtown Chicago)

Rex: Gee, I sure am sad about no longer being the starting quarterback. I don't even know if I want to live anymore. Being the quarterback is what I've been meant to do my whole life. It's why God put me on this Earth, and now without it, I am nothing. I may as well just throw myself into Lake Michigan and drown! Nobody will miss me, they'll probably have a parade to celebrate. That's it. I think I'm going to do it. Forgive me, God, but I just don't have the strength to carry on. I'm going to drown myself!

God: Do it.

(the voice startles Rex, he looks around but nobody's there)

R: Who said that!?

G: Do it.

R: Do what? Who's there?

G: Jump in the lake. End it all.

R: I will! Just you watch bodiless voice! Who are you?

G: Jump in the lake and I'll tell you.

R: Tell me who you are and I'll jump in the lake. Are you the guy from Field of Dreams?

G: I could be. I don't know, I don't think they ever really say.

R: So who are you?

G: I am God.

R: No way!

G: Way.

R: Holy shit...erm I mean, Fuckin A! What are You doing here?

G: I thought you were going to kill yourself.

R: So You came to talk me out of it?

G: No, I came to watch you try and kill yourself. I'm pretty sure you'll fuck that up too.

R: You want me to die?

G: I couldn't care less what you do, you're the backup now. Nobody cares what you do anymore.

R: I know. I miss it, God. I want to start for the Chicago Bears again. I want to show this city what I can really do!

G: I think you already did, Rex. You showed them that you have a nice arm, but that your as nimble as a statue, and make stupid decisions.

R: I can improve!

G: No, you can't. I know, Rex. You'll never be anything better than a backup in the NFL. It's best you accept it now and move on.

(tears well up in Rex's eyes)

G: Dude, don't cry. You look like a little bitch man.

(Grossman begins sobbing uncontrollably)

G: Aw man, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry. It's going to be okay, Rex. Everything's going to be fine.

R: So I'm going to start for the Bears again!?

G: No.

R: For the Dolphins next season?

G: No, Rex. You're never going to be a starter again, but you have to realize the life of a backup is pretty sweet.

R: What's so great about it?

G: What's so great about it?! Rex, you're getting paid more money this season than most people make in their lives, and you don't have to do anything. You just stand there and hold a clipboard. You don't even have to talk to Griese, because what the hell are you going to tell him? You going to teach him how to throw directly to the other team? He doesn't want to know.

R: Yeah, but I like playing quarterback. I like all the camaraderie with the fellas.

G: They hate you, Rex.

R: What!?

G: They hate you. Every single one of them.

R: Even Jason McKie!?

G: Yes, even Jason McKie.

R: NOOOO!!!

(Rex covers his eyes and begins to run away)

G: Where you going?

R: I'm running away from You!

G: You can't run away from Me Rex. I'm God. I'm everywhere.

R: You're a mean God! First You took my job away from me, and now You're telling me I can't have it back.

G: Wait a fucking minute there, son. I didn't take shit from you. YOU lost your starting job because you suck. Do you get that? YOU SUCK. S-U-C-K. Suck, suck, suck. I actually let you get to a Super Bowl last year, and look how you fucked that up!

R: It was rainy, the ball was wet.

G: That's no excuse.

R: I have small hands! Small hands that You gave me! So it is Your fault!!

(God thinks about that for a second, realizes it's true)

G: Fuck me.

R: Ha! I told You! It's all Your fault, God! You have forsaken me, I am forsook!!

G: I'm sorry, Rex. Is there anything I can do, and no, I can't get your job back.

R: I have some shopping to do, you can hang out with me and tell me if you think wifey will like the things I pick out. Now that I'm no longer a starter, she'll only have sex with me if I buy her things.

G: That's nothing special, that's just kind of how it always works.

(Rex and God are now walking down Michigan Avenue shopping when a young fan runs up to Rex)

Young Fan: Excuse me, sir. Are you Rex Grossman?

R: Why yes I am.

YF: Wow.

R: Look God, I still have fans!

YF: Who are you talking to?

G: He doesn't know I'm here, Rex. You don't need to talk to me, I can read your thoughts.

R: Um, nobody. I was just foolin around! What can I do for you little man?

YF: Can you sign my football?

R: I'd love to!

(Rex signs the football, but before handing it back to the kid he gets an idea)

R: Hey kid. Go long.

YF: Really!?

R: Yeah, it's time to throw another touchdown pass.

YF:Okay!

(the young fan then starts running down the sidewalk waiting for the pass)

R: Okay Rex, make your reads. Where's the kid? FIND HIM!! There he is. Shit. He's covered by the fire hydrant. CHECKDOWNS, REX! CHECKDOWNS!!!

(Grossman looks to the flat, well, Michigan Avenue)

R: Where the hell are you Jason McKie!? Fuck, what do I do!?

YF: I'm open, Rex!!

R: Fuck the hydrant, here it comes kid!

(Rex then unleashes a throw that goes 15 yards over the kids head and lands in a shopping cart full of garbage bags being pushed by a homeless man)

Homeless man: Abuaga!? Raolimangifatcutchewy!

R: Fuck!!

YF: My ball!!!

G: Get the kids ball back, Rex.

R:Ok.

(Grossman goes up to the homeless man)

R: Excuse me, Mr. Homeless Guy. Can I get that ball back?

HG: Arghadfkajdlfkadfla;kdfjal;dkfjadlfkjgahdoigheoijrdlk!

G: Just grab the ball man. He has no idea what you're saying.

(Rex picks up the ball and brings it to the kid.)

R: Sorry bout that throw, little man. Guess I'm a little rusty.

YF: No, you just suck. But it's okay. Thanks for the autograph!

(The kid runs off)

R: You know something, God. I think the kid's right. I do suck, but it is okay.

G: Yeah, I kinda already told you that earlier.

R: But I think I get it now. Thanks for showing me, God. I really appreciate it.

G: I wasn't here to teach you a lesson. I told you, I just came to watch you try and kill yourself.

R: Whatever You say, God. Whatever You say.

G: What the fuck ever.

R: Well, God. I think Your work is done here. I can handle myself from here.

(Grossman begins to cross the street when he notices a shiny quarter in the street. He bends over to pick it up)

R: What a shiny quarter!!

G: Rex!!!

R: Yeah, God?

G: Get out of the way!!!

R: Of what?

G: There's a truck coming right towards you?

(Rex looks up and sees the truck barreling down upon him)

R: What do I do, God!? What do I do!?

G: Run you jackass!! Get the fuck out of the way?

R: I don't know how to run!!

G: Yeah you do! You ran away from me earlier!!

R: Oh yeah! Thanks God! You're alw..

(The truck hits Grossman. He dies instantly)

G: HOLY SHIT!! What a fucking moron. He never did know how to avoid a pass rush either. Well, time to get back to heaven.

(God goes back to heaven, and enters his living room to watch game one of the World Series)

G: Ahh, baseball and beer it doesn't get any better than this.

(There's a knock at the door)

G: Must be the pizza.

(God answers the door, but it's not pizza)

G: Oh fuck me. Who let you in here!?

Rex: Hey God! This place is fucking sweet!! I've been hanging out all day, and I figures since we're such good friends now, I can watch the game with You tonight!

G: NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

Conversations With God: Mike Vick

Special Guest Star
Mike Vick

(Mike Vick is in his home and he's just gotten off the phone with his lawyers)

Vick: Fuck me. Fuuuuuuuuuck me. I can't believe those motherfuckers flipped on me. We's sposed to be boys! How they gonna do me like that!? I'm Mike Vick! The greatest quarterback of all time. You can't mess with Mike Vick! Mike Vick can't go to jail. Just think about what they probably saying bout me on the radio.

(Vick turns on the radio, it's The Dan Patrick Show and Ray Lewis is being interviewed.)

Ray Lewis: Michael Vick needs to turn to God right now! God don't snitch! God is love! God will see Michael Vick through. He saw me through. If you're listening Mike, go with God!

Vick: God? Shit, I don't know. I ain't talked to him in a while. He probably ain't too happy with Mike Vick right now.

Lewis: GO TO GOD OR I WILL STAB YOU IN THE FUCKING THROAT!!! PRAISE THE LORD!!!!

Vick: Ok, man. Damn. Motherfucker always threatening to stab a fool. Are you there, God? It's me, Mike Vick. The greatest quarterback of...

God: You ain't the greatest quarterback of all time, shut up.

V: God!? Is that You?

G: Yeah, and you aren't the greatest quarterback of all time. Joe Montana is.

V: Joe Montana? That white boy couldn't run like Mike Vick!

G: Yeah, but he could throw, which is what quarterbacks do. Running backs run.

V: I do both.

G: Underthrowing receivers by 10 yards doesn't count.

V: Hater.

G: What the hell do you want anyway?

V: Well, I'm in a little bit of trouble, God.

G: Yeah, I know. You're pretty fucked.

V: Yeah. I don't know what to do.

G: Buying some soap on a rope would be a good start.

V: That ain't funny, God.

G: I'm not joking. Seriously, you are gonna get raped. A lot. Do you know how much status a guy will get if he rapes you? That's like a carton of cigarettes right there.

V: Aww, fuck me.

G: They will.

V: But I didn't do anything wrong man!

(God sits in silence)

V: I didn't!!

(More silence)

V: Okay, so I had some dogs fight each other, and I may have killed the losers. So what? They's just some fuckin dogs man.

G: I love dogs.

V: Shit. Really? Why?

G: Because dogs don't come running to Me with all their problems when I'm in the middle of watching television.

V: I'm sorry, God. What You watching?

G: Air Bud.

V: Fuck.

G: So what do you want anyway?

V: I don't know. Ray Lewis told me to turn to You.

G: Ahh yes. Ray Ray. My linebacker.

V: Yeah, he said if I turned to You, You would help me through this like You helped him.

G: I'm not sure I can help you, Michael.

V: Why not?

G: Cuz Ray didn't have the feds on his ass, and his friends didn't snitch. You're screwed. You're going to jail either way.

V: What if I'm found not guilty?

G: Mike. You're black. You're a quarterback. And you killed man's best friend. You're going to jail.

V: Shit. So You can't help me?

G: Not with the prison thing, no. But I can answer any other questions you have.

V: Really? Cool. I got a lot of questions.

G: Shoot.

V: What's it like in heaven?

G: It's awesome. It's like everything you ever heard times a billion.

V: Am I going to get in?

G: No, you've pretty much got a room booked in hell.

V: Stop playin.

G: I'm not. You're going to hell.

V: There's nothing I can do? What if I change the way I live? What if I become a better person?

G: Not going to happen.

V: Why not?

G: Cuz you're an asshole.

V: Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

G: Don't worry, Mike. Hell isn't all that bad. It's nothing like they say it is.

V: What's it like?

G: You ever been to Cleveland?

V: Yeah.

G: A lot like that, except cleaner.

V: Fuck me.

G: Eh, you'll get used to it.

V: Can I bring weed?

G: Yeah, they have plenty of that in hell.

V: That's a relief.

G: It's all dirt though. We got all the good shit here in heaven.

V: Y'all smoke weed in heaven?

G: I'm high right now. How the fuck else do you think I can watch Air Bud?

V: Wow. I had no idea.

G: Have you ever seen a picture of Jesus? Are you trying to tell Me that you couldn't tell he was a pothead? Long hair, always talking about love? What the fuck else could he be?

V: I thought he was just doin what You told him?

G: He didn't do a damn thing I told him to. His job was to do My work for me so I could take a vacation with my girlfriend. Instead all he did all day was get high and play soccer with kids. And I fucking hate soccer.

V: Yeah, soccer's pretty gay.

G: Sure is. Anything else you want to ask?

V: Should I cop the plea?

G: Yes. Yes you should. Listen, you're going to have to do your time either way, so you may as well try and serve as little as possible.

V: What's prison like?

G: It's kinda like the movies, only a lot worse.

V: Really?

G: Yes.

V: Fuck me. They got cable in there though, right?

G: I think so. I wouldn't quote Me on that though.

V: I know You said there ain't nothing I can do to get into heaven, but I want to try anyway. Isn't there anything I can do to prove to You I want to be a better person?

G: Yeah, get John From Cincinnati back on the air.

V: Why? That show sucked. I had no idea what the fuck was going on.

G: Yeah, but you're an idiot. Get it back on the air, and maybe I'll reconsider the whole heaven thing.

V: But why You want that show back on the air?

G: Cuz I need to know how it ends.

V: Why?

G: Because I have to find if that fucking poodle haircut having mongoloid is supposed to be Me.

V: What do You care?

G: Cuz if he is I'm going to make sure that the rest of David Milch's life is absolutely fucking miserable.

V: I think John is Jesus.

G: So you're saying My son is retarded?

V: No! No, I wasn't sayin that, God! I swear!

G: I know, I'm just giving you shit. You might be right, and if you are, David Milch will be fine. That boy is retarded. All he does up here is smoke weed and watch Adult Swim. He's completely fucking useless.

V: Damn, God. That's fucked up. I thought You said You smoked it too?

G: I do, but I'm God. I can do whatever the fuck I want to. So is that it?

V: I think so.

G: Good, because I want to go talk with Bill Walsh about Joe Montana. I want to know what he was really like.

V: Oh wait, God! One more thing. Is Brady Quinn gay?

G: Well, he's in Cleveland. What the fuck do you think?

V: I knew it!

Conversations with God: Ron Artest

SPECIAL GUEST STAR

RON ARTEST

Ron Artest is in his kitchen making his favorite lunchtime meal, a peanut butter and mayonnaise sandwich. But there's something bothering Ron, and he turns to an old friend for guidance.


Ron Artest: Are you there God? It's me Ron.

(silence)

Artest: Hello? God?

God: What?

A: Hi, God.

G: Hi, Ron.

A: What took you so long?

G: It's Sacramento, Ron. You just asked me to come from Heaven to Sacramento. What the hell do you think took me so long?

A: Oh. Okay.

G: You're not gonna hit me are you?

A: That's not funny, God.

G: Yes, it is.

A: That's why I called you here. I need your help.

G: Do you feel bad for slappin' your wife?

A: Yes. I mean, how will this affect my record sales? Do you think it will help me sell more albums or hurt sales?

G: You're kidding, right?

A: No, I'm worried, God. This is my dream we're talking about here.

G: Have you seen your sales? I don't imagine this incident could make it any worse. How's your wife doin', anyway?

A: Who?

G: Your wife.

A: My wife?

G: Yeah, you know the woman who you were just slappin' the shit out of the other day?

A: Do you want a peanut butter and mayonnaise sandwich?

G: I asked you about your wife not a...wait a second...peanut butter and mayonnaise? That's disgusting.

A: No, it isn't. I used to make them for my dog, Socks, all the time, and then one day I tried it cuz I was curious, and they're great man. I eat them all the time now.

G: Do you still make them for your dog?

A: My who?

G: Your dog.

(Artest stares at ceiling confused)

G: Your dog, Ron! The one you make the PB and Mayo sandwiches for!

A: I love peanut butter and mayonnaise sandwiches!! Do you want me to make you one, God!?

G: Jesus Christ.

A: Do you want me to cut the crus...

G: Ron!!

(startled)

A: Yes, God.

G: Would you shut the fuck up about these God damned sandwiches!? I don't want one now, and I never will.

A: I was just askin'.

G: You're right. I'm sorry for blowing up at you, Ron. It's been a long day.

A: Do you like my new haircut?

G: Yeah, it's great. Way to go.

A: I did it for you.

G: Well, let's just keep that between us, okay?

A: I haven't decided what I'm gonna get cut into it next, though.

G: Well, I'm sure it will come to you eventually.

A: I think so too.

G: So, Ron, do you need me for anything, cuz if not I got things I need to do.

A: I don't think so.

G: Then why did you call me?

A: I called you?

(God sighs)

G: Yes, Ron. You said you needed my help.

A: Oh yeah! Now I remember. Thanks, God.

G: What's the problem?

A: Well, it's complicated. As I was driving home from jail the other day, I saw a butterfly so I got out and followed it.

G: You pulled over on the side of the road to follow a butterfly?

A: No, I didn't pull over. Larry was driving.

G: Who's Larry?

A: Larry is my car.

(God mutters something to himself under his breath)

A: So anyway, I was following this butterfly and it led to a nearby park. I watched it as it flew around and finally it landed on a tree. So I walked up to it and I began talking to it. I said, "Hello, Mr Butterfly. How are you today?" He didn't answer me, so I asked again. "Hello, Mr Butterfly. How are you today?" Again, no answer. So I tried a third time, but this time louder in case Mr. Butterfly was hard of hearing. '"HELLO, MR BUTTERFLY. HOW ARE YOU TODAY?" But he didn't answer. So I smashed him against the tree with my bare hand.

G: Butterflies can't talk, Ron.

A: Yeah, I know that now. That's the problem. I feel bad. I was thinking maybe I should have the butterfly shaved into the back of my head next time as a tribute to its beauty. What do you think?

G: No, people would think you're gay, which you're not. I think you should put something there that people will help identify with Ron Artest.

A: Who?

G: You, Ron! You!!

A: Oh. What should I get then?

G: Two words. Batshit Insane.

A: That's a great idea! Thanks, God!!

G: No problem.

A: Talk later?

G: Yeah, sure. Don't call me, I'll call you.

A: Cool! Later, God!

G: Whatever.