(Green Bay, WI) Listen up, readers, I have a story to tell you. A couple of months ago I met up with former NFL superstar Brett Favre for a casual game of strikes and spares. We had a good time and we had a few beers. I was feeling heavy and had decided to take off to get home to the wife and kids, but Brett convinced me to roll just one more game. This is the biggest regret I have in my life; the fact that I let him convince me to play just one more game.
As you probably have figured out, in this final game that we played, Brett bowled a turkey. For those of you who don’t know, a turkey is when you bowl three strikes in a row. A double turkey is six, and so on and so on. Anyway, we bro-hugged it out and said our goodbyes, and that seemed to be the end of it. It wasn’t until two weeks later, that our friendship began to falter.
I woke up to a text from him that simply said “gobble gobble.” I have never shot up so quickly out of bed. Actually, it was a little bit too quickly, I launched myself across the room and dive-bombed the baby’s crib, completely decimating it. Thankfully the baby had moved into her own room last month. We are so proud of her.
So, after I picked the splinters out of my forehead, I grabbed my phone and threw it straight out the window. After I made some deep black coffee, which I drank while frowning at my stove for not cooking my eggs and bacon fast enough, I went outside and retrieved my phone from the grass. I then wrote back to Brett a cool “good one.”
Now, say what you will about his pro football experience, but Brett is terrible at picking up on social cues via text, so he did not realize I was not cool with his braggadocios attitude about something seemingly not that difficult to do. He called me later that week and asked me if we could hit up the lanes again sometime. I told him I had been bowling a lot lately and didn’t want to put a strain on my magic fingers. He replied, “Magic fingers that have never bowled a turkey?”
I was so angry that I punched a hole in my bookcase, shattering my knuckles into powder. I told him that he was no longer welcome at my cousin’s wedding, and apparently this hit home for ol Farve-y because I didn’t hear one peep outta him for 2 whole months. It wasn’t until a few days ago that he finally reached back out to me, and it was this next meeting that prompted the writing of this article.
We had decided to hit up our favorite spot, Jason’s Deli! Boy was I excited to dig into some broccoli cheese soup. However, I wasn’t able to enjoy my cheesy soup because as we were ordering Brett looked me dead in the eyes and said, “Yeah can I get the turkey sandwich?”
Just as my faith had been somewhat restored in him, he just pooped all over that and we were back to square one. I lunged towards the nearby stack of salad bowls and bashed him across the skull with one. He took the hit pretty hard and collapsed on the floor. I was quickly escorted out, but as I left I noticed there was blood pooling around his head. I am still not sure whatever happened to him, I just know that I never want to see him again.
If you ever accidentally befriend an insane rich and famous person at a Buffalo Wild Wings, be aware of the fact that they are probably not buying everyone at the bar drinks out of the goodness of their heart, they are probably just lonely and might ruin your life. Now I can’t even go near a bowling alley without Vietnam style flashbacks. It’s awful.
This article was written by Nathan Ellwood, who knows enough about football. You can follow him for more on Twitter @NPEllwood.