Shiiiiit, what dis Wildcat biznass dey be talkin ’bout? Mo’fuckas be straight up tripping. Wildcat offense? Fuck dat shit! I ain’t playin’ no Wildcat! Imma mo’fuckin dawg, son. A dawg dat done been locked up in da pound. A muthafuckin dawgpound, son! See I had time in da pound to be philosophizing and shit. Yeah yeah, between workin’ out, drinkin’ mah grape drink, and passin’ that sticky icky with my boy T-Bone, I done did a lot of thinkin’ and shit. Here’s what I realized:

1. I’m sorry.
2. I’m not sorry!
3. Dawgs like me don’t do Wildcat offenses. Wildcat’s be pussies! And the only pussy I do is the kind dat be droppin’ dat Milky Way on dis Snickers bar.
4. If I sign onto a team dey best be renamin’ dat Wildcat Offense to Dawgpound Offense.
5. I shoulda killed Vince Young instead. Woulda done less time in da pound, like Stallworth.
6. Imma go g—- *takes a tote* I’mma go g—- *exhales and laughs* Man fuck dis shit!

Wait, what did you say? I just signed with the Eagles? Wasn’t I originally with the Eagles? What? Falcons? Fuckin A, same mo’fuckin shit son. Both got wings and shit, right? And a fuckin’ beak? And fuckin’ talons? So what the fuck? Maybe dis be a sign! I done fucked up from da start with this dogfighting bullshit. Wings, beaks, talons and shit. Muthafucka I shoulda done cockfighting instead! I still gots time bitches. I be out for half da season anyway. Ain’t gotta do none ‘cept help EA put me in Madden 10. Den I’mma have plenty of time to get fucked up and shit. Fuck dem dogs, I’m done wit dem bitches. Bring in the roosters. Tengo el gato, los pantalones!

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