Week 11: If it plays in Peoria
phungi (phungi)
Nov 22 6:21 am
(somewhere in Peoria Illinois early morning)


AUTHORS NOTE: The trip to Kentucky should only take 8-10 hours, but given that the reader has been willing to suspend all sense of reality thus far, we are “all good” having lost some irreplaceable time, much like the time spent reading this nonsense.



Clams pulled the Mystery Machine out of a parking spot on the thriving downtown metropolis known as Bradley University. His ride atop the van lasted all of 0.0 miles through Iowa, as no one wanted to drive the van, and they had left the keys tied up with Clams in his front pocket, and no one was going digging for clams.



Tensions had been high, given that Homecoming tickets were going on sale, and the idea that the Good Dr could hook them all up was quickly squashed. However, John did arrange a “sound-check-like” arrangement, which basically meant they all went into Starbucks and squatted on the Wifi. Tickets secured, the gang was back on the road, debating which came first: Zip City the song or Zip City the complainer.



(inexplicable time passage)



The conversation quickly returned to Fantasy Football, and the events of the past weekend. Mr B was riding high, literally and figuratively, having: A) beaten phungi for the second time this season, and B) replacing Clams in the Aunt Edna chair. Rod had taken one on the chin from rlipps, and was festering in NCal debating hitting himself in the head with a Steelers helmet for playing Conner over Samuels. Clams has squeaked one out over tinnitus, in the battle of the sub-90’s creating a 4-team quagmire of mediocrity at 5-6. Much was on the line this week.



The fellowship was just approaching I-74 discussing this week’s match-ups, Sterling Bigmouth’s possibly handing LBRod a second loss in a row, Clams getting over 20 points on a Thursday night, and tinnitus’ ongoing slump when a loud thumping was heard coming from the roof. After drowning out the banging with louder music, the ominous sound of a siren began drowning out the music, and they realized that Mr. B was trying to tell them something.



Pulling over, Clams said “keep quite and let me handle this” not realizing that the entire crew was going to blame him anyway. As Clams turned and opened the window, we hear Bill saying “RUT ROW”



Clams: Top of the morning officer, is there something I can help you with

Officer (pointing to the roof): What the hell you driving?

Clams: We had a small argument last night.

Officer: Do you have any idea how dangerous this is?

Clams: Well, he does bang on the roof every few minutes, but given that we have no window, it’s hard to say with any degree of accuracy.

Officer: Do you feel this vehicle is safe for highway travel?

Clams: Yes I do, it’s not pretty but it will get you where you want to go

Officer: You have a passenger on the roof

Clams: Yes we do
Officer: You got no internal seats or seatbelts

Clams: Not a one

Clams Jr: (Cough-laughing, holding a smoking sneaker-bong) But the radio still works

Officer: I can’t let you go

Clams: Can’t what?

Officer: It’s not fit for the road. The vehicle will be impounded until it’s made safe for travel.

Clams: OK, officer, I admit I broke the law, and for that I'm really sorry. You got me there, and I won't argue one iota, I swear. However, um... if you impound our car, I'll be unable to get my friends to Kentucky by Thanksgiving so we can figure out how to win our fantasy football league.



The silence was broken by Luke opening a beer can, saying “beer definitely plays in Peoria”…



(to be continued)

Week 12: An Overnight Sensation
phungi (phungi)
Dec 2 10:04 am
(Somewhere on I-70, West, towards Denver)

The lads were spread out in their new chariot, which was highly unexpected given their predicament at the end of our last installment.

(FLASHBACK)
Sitting outside the police station in Peoria was a clear low-point, not only for Clams, but the entire gang. With no vehicle, there was no means of achieving their goal. Lucky for most, there was no goal other than to survive the road trip and get some of LBRod’s kind bud.

That said, spirits were low, and when Luke and Bill turned the corner of SW Adams street bearing Dunkin, spirits were no higher. With blame mounting, Clams wasn’t sure he could pull this one out, but the good Dr. had his back.

Without any notice, Cole pulled up in the DBT tour bus. The door opened, and out stepped a naked Ken Jeong, in the role of Mr. Chow in The Hangover, who simply said “Toodle-oo, motherfuckers” and ran off down the street. Cooley appeared in the doorway of the bus, talking on a cellphone, saying “I ordered the fucking model 3, not the fucking X” (covering the phone with his hand, he said “fucking Tesla” and removed his hand to wave everyone to come aboard) “and I want the OS upgrade with Spotify and Netflix so my fucking kids will leave me the fuck alone”. Standing slack-jawed, no one moved, prompting Cooley to say “shut your fucking mouths and get your fucking asses on the fucking bus”

Stunned, they filed onto the bus to find Neil Patrick Harris on board. Before anyone could ask the question, he said “Dude, I don't even know where the fuck I am right now. I was at this party earlier tonight and some guy hooked me up with this incredible ‘X’. I've been trippin' balls ever since.” and grabbed the sneaker bong out of Clams Jr’s hand.

(END FLASHBACK)

While Thanksgiving at a diner was nothing to celebrate, the crew had adjusted to highway life outside the Mystery Machine. Well, Bill was still talking Scooby-talk, and Luke was searching endlessly for evidence of veneer, but most were still shell-shocked by this version of Cooley, who differed so drastically from the guy they all expected.

Using a 2-monitor set-up he was holding court, with the Yahoo page on one monitor, and various fantasy football guides on multiple tabs the other monitor. He is wearing a headset-microphone and is constantly distracted by his Apple watch, which peaks out from the sleeve of his Hefner Robe, complete with slippers.

COOLEY: First off, Clams, you missed out on the last chance to wrangle LB Rod. (he grabbed the sneaker bong) And you Bovine, you best hope for some miracles tonight, or you are going to feel like Clams’ Eagles on the way home from Miami after tonight losing to a 3-9 team. Mr. B is looking like he has a chance to steal a playoff spot but this is going to be tighter than Patterson’s button-down. (scrolling, clicking, reading) But the one who has me concerned is this phungi fellow. This wordy fucker is the one with the t-shirts, right? That’s some funny shit, but you gotta hope Russel Wilson pulls a hammy tonight, or you might be reading his cocky shit for weeks.

NEIL PATRICK HARRIS: Uh, dude, you should let me run your team. I was able to perform an apendectomy at age 14. I think I can handle a couple of drop/adds.

Everyone was still too stunned to speak, but Clams Jr knew no inhibition:

CLAMS JR: Cooley, everyone is afraid of you, and there are rumors you don’t use the Internet or email or anything like that (takes the bong, draws, coughs, passes it back). What’s up with that?

COOLEY: Fucking people believe what they want (touches his ear-set, “I said BUY Facebook and Twitter you moron”, hangs up) sorry, fucking brokers. Anyway, I love this shit. I even have a fake 3DD account, in which I criticize everything the band does… and these online self-appointed-geniuses can’t figure out that Zip City is me?

DR JOHN: I fucking knew it!

LUKE (cracking a beer): Mind=blown

BILL: Rip Rity Rooley?

CLAMS: Sorry for calling you a douchbag all these years

COOLEY: It’s cool. Actually, I am happy to have some new faces on the bus, now let’s get to Denver so we can stock up on some of that kindness

NEIL PATRICK HARRIS: I'm going to a Reno whorehouse and I'm gonna get my fuck on!

(TO BE CONTINUED)

Week 13: Somebody call a Clamblance
phungi (phungi)
6 days ago
One might think a few nights in Denver would have blown the steam off, but the combination of legalized weed and mushrooms created an energy that the tour bus had never experienced since the band ate roadside tamales. It was likely this shared brotherhood that kept Mr. B from physically harming Clams following his failure to have a starting running back. Somehow, the Wentz-to-Ertz pattern overcame Clams’ blunder, but Cooley had gotten into the blame-game, and things heated right back up. The trip to Cali was postponed for a few days, as the gang decided to stay put in Denver, meet up for Patterson’s shows and finish the trek.


At present, Mr. B was enjoying a rare moment in the spotlight, having made the playoffs following Clams' loss.

Cooley: We got a call coming in from Sterling, let me hook him up to the Bluetooth.

Bovine: Clams you fucker! You beat Mr. B and I miss the playoffs

Sterling: Am I in? Weirdest 3-way ever. Both you fuckers are wrong, it would have been me in the playoffs.

Clams: Dude, It wouldn’t have mattered if I played McCoy or Sanders, you still would have won, besides, you made the playoffs.

Bovine: If I were there, you’d be needing an ambulance

Clams Jr: I think he means a Clambulance

Uncle Ricky: It would be a total Clambush!

Neil Patrick Harris: Are we talking a Clamuptation?

Cooley: Can’t we grant the fucker some Clamnesty?

Mr. B: I think we will all have Clamnesia

Clams: You guys just don’t’ have proper Clambition

Neil Patrick Harris: Can you pass me some more of those Clambian?

Sterling: What the fuck? We got to take down phungi and LBRod, and you guys are tripping balls?

Clams Jr: We ARE on a mission for Rod!

Sterling: That fucker has been riding Jackson all year… he put up 36 on a fucking Thursday night

Cooley: Statistically, Thursday night games are the lowest scoring of the week.

Bill: I believe Marken Michel is going to have a stand-out week for the Eagles. You do know he is a former CFL player, right?

Everyone just stared at Bill, given that this was the first non-Scooby sentence he had spoken in weeks.

Bill: Relax, more ‘roomers rease

The line chirped, and Cooley touched the headset. Cooley: Who we got now?

phungi: This is phungi. I hear you guys are gunning for me. No worries, I am on my way to you, so we can finish this in person.

Bill: rut roh, rungi

(TO BE CONTINUED)

^^^^^^ for posterity

We need these stories to become an animation.

Week 14: Apocalypse Wow

(Sunday Morning, December 22, DBT Bus, Portland Oregon)

Despite being out of Denver for nearly a week, the stockpile of mushrooms had yet to dissipate. In addition, the bus was now full, having picked up Stirling Bigmouth at the Boise Airport, and LBRod simply knocking on the door of the bus looking haggard and homeless, which is to say, his beard was not combed. LBRod refused to answer to any name or pronoun other than “RodFather” and had promised a nearly unending list of favors for gifts, which took their form in mushrooms. Rounding out the gang was Patterson, who had just finished a 2-night run at the Doug Fir Lounge in Portland. All that was missing was phungi.

Clams Jr was tripping balls to such a degree that Mr. B observed his testes finally dropped. Few had heard from Mr. B in weeks, but here he was in the Championship, having decimated phungi’s sham of a team. Despondent was not quite accurate to describe the RodFather, having lost to the 7-7 Bigmouth, who was just happy to be along for the ride. Patterson was pontificating to Stirling that there are few things more loved in Alabama than football and the men who know how to win at it causing Cooley to scoff and roll his eyes.

Meanwhile, Clams Jr was staring at a snow globe he picked up in Denver, shaking it intermittently, causing the RodFather to nod affirmatively and stroke his beard.

Clams Jr: What if this story and league is all just a dream in my mind, and it just ends with us looking at this snow globe

Neil Patrick Harris (also tripping and staring, grabbing the sneaker bong): No way man, Saint Nightmare!

RodFather: we could all just end up arguing in jail for eternity

Bill: Reinfeld!

Cooley: you could all just shut your motherfucking mouths and get on a motherfucking plane and get the fuck off my bus (he taps his headset) I SAID TEASE BALTIMORE AND THE OVER YOU LOWLIFE DICKWAD (turns to the group, takes the sneaker bong) Love me some of that Lamar Jackson action!

Patterson: the duality of the Cooley thing

Tinnitus (still clicking): Someday, someone will take these photos of mine and animate them to a narrative.

Bovine (stretches out and emits a long yawning growl)

Clams: now we know why they call him the Sofa King

Patterson (strumming a chord): Great idea for a new song: “Mating Call of the Couch Potato”

It is approaching 1:00 EST and Mr. B is in no laughing mood. He eyes the Yahoo page intently, while Cooley outilnes the scenario.

Cooley: You both shit the bed with your QBs, but Watson shit the bed so bad Stirling may have to move to a new house.

Mr. B: Yeah, but Yahoo projects him to win by almost 2 points

Cooley: They also projected Watson to get 23, so fuck them. You got Carson and McCaffrey and Ertz, and they are going to carry your lucky ass to the championship.

Mr. B: Yeah, but Chubb and Jones scare me

Neil Patrick Harris (laughing): Hey Beavis, he said “Chubb”!

Mr. B: And I might have to wait until Monday night to see how this ends.

Just then the RodFather, Clams and whomever has the 530 Area Code number in their text thread report “phungi is en-route, heading north to meet us”

Clams Jr: I think I read about this in Heart of Darkness

LBRod: Apocalypse Now!

Clams Jr (looking at the snow globe: WOW!

Cooley: Motherfucking Kurtz!

Patterson: LBBrando!

Bill: Rando!

Luke: I think we should head to a diner.

(to be continued)

Really Clams? Dropping this in on a Friday before the winter recess. This should be front page NYT like the Pentagon Papers

Well, my team picked a great time to crap the bed. Every single player under performed his predicted point total. The fat lady has sung. Congrats to Sterling Bigmouth.

Jonicont wrote:Really Clams? Dropping this in on a Friday before the winter recess. This should be front page NYT like the Pentagon Papers

"Thank you Clams, it was really nice of you to do that" would have been fine

Mr. B wrote:Well, my team picked a great time to crap the bed. Every single player under performed his predicted point total. The fat lady has sung. Congrats to Sterling Bigmouth.

Congrats Sterling!

The misspelling of Sterling hurts phungi's cred.

What's next? Requesting Outfit at the Rock Show?

bovine knievel wrote:The misspelling of Sterling hurts phungi's cred.

What's next? Requesting Outfit at the Rock Show?

clearly, my spell check is broke...

i just want to alert people to a two year trend.

last year, i won this league and came in last in my other league, where i couldn't draft and auto-draft did its thing.

this year, i came in last year via auto-draft, but won the league i actually drafted (thanks in small part to Lamar Jackson).


see you next year, fuckers!

Mr. B wrote:Well, my team picked a great time to crap the bed. Every single player under performed his predicted point total. The fat lady has sung. Congrats to Sterling Bigmouth.

Good game, Mr. B. Feels like my team didn’t quite live up to expectations all year, but somehow pulled wins out of its ass whenever I needed. Great year to everyone, already looking forward to next year!

If you want to send beer, PM me for my address. If not, alewis45@vols.utk.edu is my PayPal. Can also do Venmo/Cash App if you prefer.

Sterling Bigmouth wrote: If you want to send beer, PM me for my address. If not, alewis45@vols.utk.edu is my PayPal. Can also do Venmo/Cash App if you prefer.

Money sent to your PayPal! Congratulations too! This was one of the more competitive years for this league, looking forward to next year.

bovine knievel wrote:

Sterling Bigmouth wrote: If you want to send beer, PM me for my address. If not, alewis45@vols.utk.edu is my PayPal. Can also do Venmo/Cash App if you prefer.

Money sent to your PayPal! Congratulations too! This was one of the more competitive years for this league, looking forward to next year.

X2

Finale: Made in America

INTERIOR, DINER, DAY.

The gang is gathered in several tables, as only 4 fit to a table. At the main table is StErling, waiting to be joined by LBRod, and Mr. B, and phungi, who is late. StErling is nearest the wall-mounted “at the table” jukebox, and flipping through songs, as the leader, king, Don, and ruler of the group. LBRod is still calling himself the RodFather, but having beaten phungi for 3rd, this seems more like a predatory child-preying Instagram handle than someone to be respected. At another table are Clams, Tinnitus, Bovine, and rlipps (who somehow remained under the radar until this moment). They are generally silent, having done very little to earn screen-time in this finale. Clams Jr (sneaker bong in one hand, snow globe in the other) is at a table with Bill, Luke, and Neil Patrick Harris, who has proudly called this “the kids table” while arranging Saltines crumbs into kaleidoscope-like formations. Hood and Cooley are likely on the bus, along with the Dr., but absent from the diner, having played their part in this quest.

Flipping through songs, we see “Who will you run to” by Heart, and then “Don’t Stop Believing” by Journey. StErling reaches into his pocket, deposits coins in the jukebox, and looks up, as LBRod enters the diner and sits across from StErling. We see Mr. B enter the diner, just after a man in a Member’s Only jacket, looking much like Smitty in the 1980’s. He crop-dusts the group as he walks by, and sits at the counter. “Don’t Stop Believin’” is playing over the following dialog, while StErling is trying to console Mr. B and LBRod over their loss:


StErling: You may not realize it but you are making progress. It's an entry-level spot. So buck up.

LBRod: Right, focus on the good times

StErling: Don't be sarcastic.

Mr. B: Isn't that what you said one time-- "try to remember the games that were good"?

StErling: I did? - yeah.

LBRod: Well, it's true, I guess.

StErling: I went ahead and ordered 42 beers for me, you guys are paying.

We cut to an Enterprise rental attempting to parallel park outside the diner, and see that phungi is driving. After several forward/back attempts, the car is parked. The Member’s Only Guy leaves the counter and walks past the table, again, and crop-dusts the group, again. phungi enters the diner, just as the lyrics get to the chorus: ”Don’t Stop”

FADE TO BLACK

END OF SEASON

Ah, sopranos! Was Smitty even born yet in the 80s? What's crop dusting? Excellent work, Phil.

Clams wrote:Ah, sopranos! Was Smitty even born yet in the 80s? What's crop dusting? Excellent work, Phil.

From the UrbanDictionary:
crop dusting
farting while walking;
walking while farting;
i crop dusted my way down the aisle at the grocery store

Today each one of my players will have 20+ points. Guaranteed.

bovine knievel wrote:

Sterling Bigmouth wrote: If you want to send beer, PM me for my address. If not, alewis45@vols.utk.edu is my PayPal. Can also do Venmo/Cash App if you prefer.

Money sent to your PayPal! Congratulations too! This was one of the more competitive years for this league, looking forward to next year.

Ditto. Except for the Congrats part, you lucky bastard!

So are we dong this again this year? I'm ready, willing and somewhat able. Hopefully Phungi is work-shopping this year's story line.

In, as long as the season doesn’t get canceled

i was thinking the same thing... in if this season actually happens in some form

I’m in! I think the league already auto-renewed for all of us who played last year. Not 100% on that but I’ll get back to you guys. Also, check your emails from Yahoo.

Gonna throw this draft date out there because I like it and being the day after Labor Day it helps me remember.

Tuesday Sept.8th @ 4:30 PDT

Everybody knows the gig by now... winner of the league gets $20 or beer from each of the losers.

I'm in and the date/time works for me

I’ve briefly looked at this thread several times and have no idea what’s it is about.

I just wish that I had six months at home with nothing to do and no one with whom to talk except my wife and kids so that I could go back and read all of the old posts. Sometimes the internet is like a facemask (sarcasm doesn’t translate well)!

I will add that anyone who has ever been in the 40 Watt club after the 3DD Chili Cookoff knows the definition of “crop dusting” or at least recognizes the aroma!

Clams wrote: ↑

Fri Aug 21, 2020 8:32 am

I'm in and the date/time works for me

X2 That will give me plenty of time to do my usual no prep at all.

It’s official.

The league did auto-renew so all teams that played last season are in. If you decide not to play please let us know so the spot can be opened up.

DRAFT TIME:

Tuesday, September 8th @ 4:30 PDT

I'm in

All we need to hear from is Phungi. Mollusk, can you rattle his cage?