Category: Big 12 Published on Friday, 20 April 2012 03:45 Written by Travis Ray Hits: 1751
Mack strolls down the lavish halls of Moncrief-Neuhaus Athletic Center with a boyish grin on his face. Adorning the walls are momentos of the great success Texas has had, and since he became Head Coach. Mack pauses at a framed photo of Vince Young celebrating in confetti. Standing there lost in past victories he starts drooling a little and becomes aroused.
“Uhhh, Coach?” A voice interrupts Macks thoughts and looks at Major Applewhite peering out of a door.
“Meeting? 30 Minutes ago? Everyone’s here.”
“Of course Chris. I'm sorry.”
“Um... what did you just call me?” Applewhite asks with an edge in his voice.
“What? Nothing.” Mack says pushing past Major through the door.
“Sorry for the wait, men. Let's get started.” Getting behind his desk, sitting in his executive chair he has the thought: “Cheese. God motherfucking dammit, I love me some good cheese. Colby. Pepperjack. Provo-fucking-lone. Sliced. Cubes. FUCKING SHREDDED!! S'so goood.....”
“.... So I think the young guys at Linebacker are really coming along, Coach. I've been impressed. What do you think?”
Mack grinds his teeth and wonders what this little prick thinks he is doing, interrupting his thoughts on delicious, constipating, cheese.
“Diaz, im going to be honest with you right now...no bullshit. I'm the Anti-Christ. You got me in a vendetta kind of mood. You tell the angels in heaven you never seen evil so singularly personified as you did in the face of the man who killed you.” His flat eye stare startles the handful of coaches in the room. Harsin giggles a little.
“Um.... Coach, I think that’s a Chris Walken line from True Romance.”
“So fucking what?”
“Well, what does it have to do with the defense or Edmond and Hicks?”
His tone getting more terse as he puts up with this shit, Diaz leans forward in his chair. “Coach, whats up with you lately? Are you all right?”
“I'm not all right, Mike! I'm 13-12, or some other turd in a toilet bowl record. I can't have that! This is Texas, MIKE. And now you understand. Anything goes wrong – anything at all… your fault, my fault, nobody’s fault… it won’t matter, I’m gonna blow your head off. No matter what else happens, no matter who gets killed, I’m gonna blow your head off. “
A long awkward pause chokes the air out of the room. Harsin giggles again. Daryl Wyatt glances from Mack to the door.
“Coach? That's John Wayne. You just quoted John Wayne in Big Jake. Did I miss the email on.... something?” Wyatt offers cautiously.
“Sorry, guys. The stress has been getting to me, I guess. Harsin, what's the latest on Ash and his progress?”
“I think he has turned a corner, coach. His demeanor in the film room is great, the players respect his attitude, and the kid has a terrific....” Harsin's glowing praise fades to Mack's own thoughts: “I wonder what Stoops is doing right now. Probably picking his nose with a thumb up his ass. Cocksucker. Just thinking about him is like snorting rat poison. Having to shake his hand is so awful, I always shit my pants and swallow down my own vomit.”
“Damn, coach! Are you okay?” Major gets to his feet, watching Mack wretch behind his mahogony desk.
“What?! Yes, Chris! I'm fine!”
“STOP CALLING ME THAT!!”
“Major. Sorry, sorry... I don't know what's going on lately. Shit has just been so soul crushing for two agonizing years.”
“Right... okay. It's okay, Coach.”
"You're a good kid, Chris. Maybe I finally found it, way down here in the mud. Maybe from down here I can start up again. Be something I can be proud of, without having to fake it. Be a fake human being.“
Major pounds his fist on the table, “Dont call me Chris, you wrinkled colostomy bag! And that’s fucking Charlie Sheen from Platoon! Do you hear the dickspittle coming out of your mouth right now??” Searels pulls Major back and shares the “WTF” look going around the room.
“Listen, you fuckers...you screwheads. Here is a man who would not take it anymore. A man who stood up against the scum, the cunts, the dogs, the filth, the shit. Here is a man who stood up,” Mack shouts defiantly from his Corinthian leather throne.
“Is... Is that Taxi Driver??”
“Yeah, I think it is.” Harsin agrees, giggling.
“Thats it, god damn it. Meeting Over. Get the fuck out.”
“Take it easy, Coach.”
“GET OUT!” Mack shouts, face growing a nuclear shade of pink.
“Christ... I thought you said this was a great gig, Major?”
“Fuck off, Bryan.”
They file out and shuffle down the hall, confused, alarmed, kinda pissed. They dont even try to find the words while walking away together.
Mack starts loudly whistling a joyful tune from behind, startling Harsin so bad it damn near killed his sperm count.
'WHAT THE FUCK?!”
“Y'all said we were going to get corny dogs. Im hungry.”