Well, hello...CARNEY! It's so nice to have you back where you belong!

(Sean Payton is in his office with Mickey Loomis. They are both waiting for someone.)

SEAN: Well, Mickey, I think we bought some goodwill from the fans with this one.


MICKEY: I don't know how much goodwill, per say, but it should make a few folks happy.

SEAN: Are you kidding, Mickey? This is a fantastic thing we're doing here! I already expressed regret to the public about letting him go, now we get to bring him back for the possibility of playing again! I dropped him for a guy who couldn't consistently make field goals for us.

MICKEY: You mean Taylor Mehlhaff?

SEAN: No, the other guy.

MICKEY: Oh, Martin Gramatica?

SEAN: No. The OTHER guy.

MICKEY: Wait, you mean Garrett?

SEAN: Shut up, Mickey. Can we not talk about him right now? I'm talking about Olindo Mare.

MICKEY: Hey, I'd almost forgotten all about him. Man, I can't believe we brought that guy onboard just for an extra five or ten yards on kickoffs.

SEAN: Tell me about it.

MICKEY: I mean, yeah, we had a Pro Bowl-caliber kicker on our roster who was getting up in age but could still make just about everything from inside 40, and we let him go.

SEAN: Yeah, yeah, yeah...thanks a bunch for reminding me, Mickey.

MICKEY: Still...it has been two years since he played with us. I hope he still has it...

SEAN: Oh, come on, this is a can't lose situation for us. He went to the Pro Bowl last year!

(The office phone rings. Sean Payton hits a button to answer it.)

SEAN: Yes?

VOICE: Mr. Payton, a Mr. John Carney is here to see you.

SEAN: Good, send him in.

(Sean Payton hits another button to hang the phone up.)

MICKEY: Do you want to do all the talking?

SEAN: No, feel free to jump in.

(Door opens. Creepy music flows in.)





THE CARNEY: Well, hello there, youngins! Mind if I set me on this chair a spell? My sacroiliac been acting up again...

SEAN: Uh, hi John...Um, how've you been?

THE CARNEY: Oh, don't get me started, Coach. I got the gout, the droopsies, I'm going to the bathroom four or five times a night, vision in my left eye is kinda blurry, I

SEAN: But...uh...your legs and feet are okay though?

THE CARNEY: Oh, sure, I'm just as viral as ever below the waist, coach.

SEAN: I think you meant "virile." John.

THE CARNEY: I'm sorry, what? Can't hear so good outta my ears these days.



MICKEY: (Shakes head) Fuck. Um, Coach Payton, could I have a word with you?

SEAN: Sure. John, would you mind giving us a minute of privacy?

THE CARNEY: Certainly. I'll just turn off my hearing aids. And if you can turn your backs if you're worried I might be lip reading.

MICKEY: Thanks, John.

(Mickey and Sean turn their backs to The Carney and have a private conversation.)

SEAN: Look, I still say it's a good PR move. I mean, we're gonna be dumping some dead weight soon anyway, this'll really get the fans on our side coming out of the gate.

MICKEY: This guy's 75-years-old! Man's got no tread left on his tires!

SEAN: You trying to make a cheap 'Cash for Clunker' joke, Mickey?

MICKEY: For fuck's sake, Sean, the guy's a walking pandemic. If he comes onboard and shanks an easy field goal, Jim Henderson might have an aneurysm live on the air!

(The Carney stands up and coughs.)



THE CARNEY: Oh guys, by the way, if you do want to sign me, I'm gonna need the following prescriptions filled immediately: Lexapro, Plavix, Fosamax, Flomax, Viagra, Lantus, Concerta, Glycolax, and Yaz.

SEAN: Jeez.

MICKEY: I stand by my previous statement of "Fuck," Coach. Your move.

(Ed. note: These little vignettes are inspired by the guys at KSK. Just wanted to make sure I'm covering my bases.)