Injury Timeout

Tony Romo walked slowly towards the sidelines as the rest of the Dallas Cowboys offense bunched together on the field while the opposing team's doctors tended to an injured player.

"Damn, man," DeMarco Murray shook his head, hands on hips. "Why'd he come at me head first?"

Jason Witten slapped him gently on the helmet. "He's alright, D. The doctor's just takin' precautions, goin' through the checklist. You rang'im up pretty good."

"Wit's right," Dez agreed. "See, he's movin' around. Even got a grin on his face."

"Goofy grin," Vickers concurred.

"You'd have a goofy grin, too, if D popped you like that," Dez chided.

"Ha! D'd be the one layed out," Vickers countered. "You set'em up, I knock'em down. I'm a bowling ball."

"Bowling ball?", Murray snorted. "You're not even a duckpin. I've seen better blockin' at the Roller Derby."

"Roller Derby!" Doug Free laughed.

"Shouldn't you be droolin' in a corner and rubbin' crap in your hair?" Vickers snapped.

"I don't rub crap in my hair," Free retaliated. ".....anymore."

"Then what the hell's that smell?" Tyron Smith asked, holding his nose.

"Sorry, guys," Phil Costa apologized. "That breakfast burrito's backin' up on me."

"How does Romo stand behind this guy all day?" Nate Livings queeried.

"Well, he is in the shotgun most of the time," Costa sheepishly replied.

"Need to turn your ass around," Vickers suggested. "Damn sure open a few holes then."

"Just want some runnin' room," Murray chuckled. "Don't want to kill anybody."

"I can bench press a Buick," Bernadeau blurted, to no one in particular.

"Spell Buick," Tron needled.

Witten rolled his eyes and sighed. "Here we go."

"Hmm. B...uh...B..." Bernie struggled. "That's one of them tricky 'i' before 'e' except after 'c' deals, ain't it?"

"C'mon, Mac," Free laughed. "There's no 'i' in Buick."

"There's no 'c' either," Dez added. "Didn't you go to college, stupid?"

"Yes. I came out the same way," Bernie explained.

"I'm gonna stand over here for a while," Witten wandered off, rubbing his temples. "You freaks are givin' me a headache."

"What's up with Wit?" Free asked curiously.

Tron shrugged. "Alergies."

"What's he alergic to?"


"Hottest Bond girl.....Anyone?" Costa interjected.

"Catherine Bach!" Free shouted.

"It was Barbara Bach, you 'tard," Murray shook his head. "Catherine Bach was Daisy on The Dukes Of Hazzard."

"No," Costa disagreed. "Jessica Simpson was Daisy."

"D's talkin' about the TV show," Tron helped, "not the movie."

"They made a TV showed based on the movie? Cool." Costa smiled. "When's it on?"

"Damn, dude," Dez cringed. "That's like the whitest show ever. You tellin' me I got you beat on redneck trivia? That's messed up. Oh, and by the way, the hottest Bond girl ever.....Halle Berry."

"True story," Vickers agreed.

"Jill St. John"

"Jane Seymour."

"Ursula Andress."

"Kim Basinger."

"What say, Miles?" Bernie elbowed the wideout. "You haven't picked one yet."

"Doesn't matter," Austin explained, gazing at himself in a tiny mirror. "I'm prettier than all of'em."

"Where the hell'd you get a mirror?" Tron asked.

"It was in my sock."

"Why was it in your sock?"

Austin winked and blew a kiss at his reflection. "So I can look at myself during the game and bask in the circle of beauty that is my face."

"I think that breakfast burrito just changed directions," Costa gagged out between dry heaves.

"See that, Austin?" Tron scolded. "You're makin' Costa sick with that freaky crap. Put the damn mirror away."

Miles kissed the back of his own hand and held it out to Tron. "Want some?"

Livings made a grab for Austin's hand while Tron flipped the receiver off. Miles pulled it back before Nate could get to it. "Not today, big guy."

"But.....You promised."

"Huh?" Vickers raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, Miles, put it away," Nate echoed Tron, changing the subject quickly.

"Fine," Austin aquiesced. "Try to bring a little beauty to your butt-ugly lives and do I get any thanks?. Nope." He looked at his reflection one more time. "Later, baby," he whispered. Miles bent over to put the mirror back in his sock and hit the ground screaming, holding the back of his thigh.

"Can you believe that mess?" Murray shook his head. "Popped a hammy just bendin' over. What a tool."

"Yeah," Livings agreed. "If bendin' over was all it took, you'd think he would've pulled a few last night."

"Again," Vickers repeated. "Huh?"


"That's it!" cried Vickers. "I'm movin' my locker and showerin' at home from now on."

"Shower at home? Dude," Dez said. "when was the last time water hit your nasty body? And I'm not countin' the golden shower you got from that cross-dressin' exterminator you hired to kill the fire ants. The funk comin' off of you is worse than the sewage seepin' outta Costa's ass."

"Not fair, man." Costa protested. "I have a spastic colon."

"From hangin' out with Nate and Miles, no doubt," Tron quipped.

The guys on the field watched Miles Austin hobble back to the bench, then cringed as they heard the call for Kevin Ogletree.

"Ogleburp sucks," Bernie spat. "I'd rather just play with ten guys."

"Spell ten," Tron needled again.

"Yeah, he sucks," everyone muttered in unison.

"I'd rather get a prostate exam from Edward Scissorhands than play with Tree."

"I'd rather french kiss Michael Moore for fifteen minutes....."

"I'd rather suck the pus outta that thing growing on Pat McQuistan's hairy butt....."

"I'd rather go skinny-dippin' in a piranha tank with bacon wrapped around my junk....."

"I'd rather go skinny-dippin' with a cheerleader," Free laughed and clapped his hands cluelessly. "Golly, this is fun."

Murray sighed. "Way to crash the bus, Dougie."

"At least he tries," Tron smiled.

A chorus of cheers rang out as the injured player walked from the field, giving a thumbs-up. Romo thought it was for him for a brief second, making his way back to the huddle. Witten met him halfway.

"Why'd you leave me out here with these misfits?" Jason asked.

Romo chuckled. "Life of a quarterback, my friend."

"I didn't see you over there. Where the hell were you?"

"Just catchin' up on some reading."

"Something good I hope," Witten sarcastically replied.

Romo shrugged. "Eli Manning's new autobiography."

"Didn't know he wrote one. What's it called?"

"I Never Owned A Parrot, But I Kissed A Cockatoo."

Witten choked on a laugh. "No wonder Coughlin's so red-faced and out of breath all the time."

"No doubt," Romo agreed. "So, what'd I miss?"

"Let's see," Jason began. "Murray's a beast. Vickers can't block. Costa has gas. Nobody can spell. Dez is a closet redneck. Miles and Nate may be engaged. Bin Laden has more fans around here than Ogletree. Free is a blitherin' idiot. And you," the tight end summed up, "are a selfish bitch."

"So," Romo sighed, "everything's pretty much normal in Cowboy Country?"


Another user-created commentary provided by a BTB reader.

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