LANE KIFFIN AND OTHERS RECEIVE THE NCAA REPORT

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MIKE GARRETT, ED ORGERON, MONTE KIFFIN, and USC GENERAL COUNSEL sit in a conference room. A terrified aide runs in, dumps a hefty report reading "NCAA REPORT" on the table, and runs out before anyone can notice his face. 

Orgeron: DAT DEREIT IS. 

Mike Garrett: I'm the AD. I don't read. People read to me. 

Announcer's voice: Unbeknownst to our crowd, Mike Garrett is one of the fifteen million Americans who cant read. Worse yet, he is one of the eight million illiterate Americans who are proud of this fact. Read to your children, America. Don't let them become Mike Garrett. 

Monte: /falls asleep 

Orgeron: I CANNA READUH REPORTAH LETCHA KNOWWHATTA TROJANZGOTTA FROMMAENNSEEDUBBLEAY. 

Mike Garrett: We'll wait for Lane. When he decides to get here--

Door opens. In walks LANE KIFFIN and RAMPAGE JACKSON. 

Lane: What's up, tard-balls? MG, what's hangin? Dad! DAD! WAKE THE HELL UP THE CHINESE ARE COMING OVER THE HILL AGAIN AND THEY'VE GOT AIR SUPPORT. 

Monte: AHHH!!! 

/grabs invisible M4 carbine

/looks around

Lane: Everyone, this is Rampage Jackson. He's promoting his new movie, the A-Team movie. I'm pretty sure Shakespeare wrote that shit, so some respect for him. 

Rampage: Acting sucks. Do you have any Asian chicks around? 

Lane: I keep three in the closet on the left in my office. Have at it, but I warn you: you gotta watch Li Hua. She's into knifeplay. 

Orgeron: HO HO HO ANINJA INYAPANTS. 

Rampage leaves the room. 

USC Counsel: So Lane, there it is: the NCAA's report on the Reggie Bush case. 

Lane: I'm sorry, I don't speak gaynerdinese UP TOP ED! 

Orgeron: DASSABURNOYESSAH

They fist-bump. 

Lane: Seriously, you could be getting me a sugar-free Red Bull right now. Why aren't you doing that? With your face? Your ratty little not-getting-me-a-sugar-free Red Bull right now face? 

Mike Garrett: Go get him a sugar-free Red Bull. Now. 

USC Counsel: I went to Harvard Law. i don't have to--

Lane Kiffin: BLAH BLAH BLAH I WENT TO IVYPANTS COCK-CADEMY AND GRADUATED COME LOUDER FROM NERDSYLVANIA STATE LAW-TURD SCHOOL. Jesus, your mouth just keeps moving and making all these words I hate come from it. Go get Big Balls a Red Bull, because my sack is hot like Honduras or some other African country. 

Orgeron: ISSA COOLINSYSTEM FORRAH SEXREACTOR. 

Fuming, the counsel goes to get a Red Bull. 

Lane: So, MG? What's the hassle? You not like the gift certificate I got you? 

Kiffin_gift_certificate_medium

Mike: I...I did, Lane, that was kind of you. 

Lane: Yeah, thanks for the thank you. That took me thirty minutes to put together and I get nothing. I see how this works. 

Monte: /fallsasleep

Mike: We need to see what's in there. 

Lane: Whatever. BANG BANG!  (makes finger gunz)

Lane picks up the report.

Lane: Who's Nakkah? Jesus, this dude needs to buy a vowel. 

Mike: That's the NCAA, Lane. 

Lane: Like a rap name, like N.O.R.E. Got it. I'm street. I get it. 

Orgeron: DASSA NASHNUL COLEEDJUHT ATHLETICAAASSOSEEASHUNNA. 

Lane: Oh, fine. Someone's been taking notes all those fancy BYU correspondance classes.

Orgeron: DA ORGERONNA NOW A CERTIFIED AHMASSAGETHERAPIST INNAWYOMINGANDPUERTORICA!  

Monte Kiffin wakes up. 

Monte: We need to annex Puerto Rico before the Spanish do! 

Mike: Just read it and tell us what's in it, Lane. 

Lane Kiffin sulks. 

Lane: Fine. 

He begins to thumb through the findings. Ramage Jackson returns to the room, as does the counsel with his Red Bull. The counsel places the Red Bull in front of him. 

Lane: Thanks, pencildick. I don't mean that. The thanks part.

Counsel: /drawsupheinousHRlawsuit

Lane: Hey, everyone, this is Rampage Jackson, and he's promoting the movie A-Team. 

Mike: You told us that already. 

Lane: I'm contractually obligated to say that every ten minutes. Just picking up some extra scratch in the celebrity endorsement game. 

Monte: HAVING A SIDE JOB IS IMPORTANT DURING THE DEPRESSION I SOLD USED COFFINS TO ORPHANS AS HOUSING OH HOW I MISS THOSE DAYS. 

Rampage: I left the girls in the closet, Lou. 

Lane: It's Lane, brah. L-a-y-n-e. Are they alive? 

Rampage: Well, they stopped screaming after a while. 

Lane: Cool. Hey, you want to get some lunch after this or something...

Rampage: Whatever. I got two hours of hanging out with your ass left and then I can go home and masturbate to my DVDs of car crashes. 

Lane: THAT IS SO AWESOME! I love that we're friends like this now. 

Rampage: /stares a dead and psychopathic stare through the back of Kiffin's skull. 

Lane: /smiles 

Counsel: The report, please. 

Mike: Yes. Please read it. 

Cutaway: tinkly piano music plays. A young Mike Garrett stares forlornly at the menu of a McDonald's. "You want a Happy Meal?" Mike Garrett nods, and realizes he might be able to get away with never learning to read. 

Cut to present. 

Lane: Fine, fine...so....Two years without bowls? 

Ed Orgeron looks up from butchering a giant catfish. 

Orgeron: DASSSA TRAVESTREEE!

Mike: My god. 

Lane: Whatever, we're going to the national title game. That's not a bowl anyway. 

Counsel: Yes, Lane, it is. 

Lane: Well, that's debatable, isn't it Counselor Cockholderface? 

Mike: Not really, Lane. 

Lane: You being so harsh this morning, M to the G. 

Mike: Read the rest, Lane. 

Lane: Twenty plus scholarships...that's fine, we've got like 169 of them or something...

Orgeron: GONNA HAFTASTART DAPATDYEPLANNA RAKROOTIN'

Counsel: It is my advice as your counsel to never, ever discuss paying players ever again, and not to start doing it. 

Lane: What to you mean "start?" 

Rampage looks at Ed Orgeron. 

Rampage: You look like you wanna fight. HUH? YOU WANNA FIGHT DONTCHA? 

Ed Orgeron: DASSARIGHT LETSHAVVA TUSSULMISTARAINPAGE

Lane: Hey! Hey! Rampage! I wanna fight! BUDDIES LIKE TO FIGHT! 

Orgeron: DISSAINTA CONCERRNAYOURS LANEAH! MENN GOTTAFIGHTFORTHE ALFAMALESPOT!

Monte: I HAVEN'T HEARD A RUCKUS LIKE THAT SINCE JOE LOUIS FOUGHT THE LAST REMAINING IVORY-BILLED WOODPECKER IN HOT SPRINGS ARKANSAS IN 1940. HE WON IN THE FIRST ROUND BY DISINTEGRATION. 

Lane Kiffin puts down the report. 

Lane: There's a lot of words here. I rock, I don't read. MG, why don't we blow this scene and--

Mike Garrett's chair is empty.

CUT SCENE: LAX International Airport. Garrett points to a picture of a tropical idyll he holds in his hand. 

Mike: Where's that? 

Clerk: I believe that's Pago Pago in American Samoa. 

He slaps down the USC corporate card. 

Mike: One way on the next available flight, please. 

Seantrel Henderson waits in line next to him, holding a boarding pass. For a moment, they exchange a meaningful glance of mutual understanding, and nod before becoming strangers again. 

CUT: Back to Heritage Hall. A hole in the wall leads to another hole in the wall where Rampage and Orgeron are fighting like two Titans through smashed trophy cases and drywall. 

Counsel: You'll be hearing from my attorney, dickwad. 

Lane: Fine. FINE. See if I care about a lawsuit. YOU CAN'T SUE FOR BEING AWESOME. It's not illegal. 

Monte: OPIUM AND LOOSE WOMEN SHOULD BE I TELL YOU WHAT. 

Lane: I'll just be over here with dad, guys. Just sitting...

He looks around a cold and empty conference room, and the overturned trophies just forfeited by the report on the table. 

Lane: ...here. 

Pauses. 

Lane: (mumbles despondently) sponsored by A-Team by Jane Austen coming out Friday June 10th...

Monte: THAT'S A BOY ALWAYS HUSTLING! 

CUT SCENE: A pebbly cold beach in Seattle, Washington. A greying, fit man in a wetsuit boards through the waves. 

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Pete Carroll: Another great day to be alive, babeeeeeeeee!!!!

FIN

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