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Sports Radio Phone Sex

BIG MO: Let's go to Frank! Speak to me, amigo!

FRANK: Hey, Big Mo! Love the show, love hearing your voice every day!

BIG MO: What's on your mind, buddy!

FRANK: I just gotta say that if I had Terrell Owens on my team, I'd sit him down and lay down the riot act! I'd tell him that after kind of a rough start, this country has given his people all the opportunity in the world and that this prima donna shtick ain't gonna fly in my locker room! I could get one of his "homies" to replace him at wide receiver tomorrow without blinking an eyebrow! And I don't care what kind of physical specimen he is!

BIG MO: Hey, what is that clown, six-foot-three, 226 pounds of steely muscle!

FRANK: Oh yeah, no fat at all on that ingrate! I bet that crybaby's buttocks are absolutely bulletproof!

BIG MO: I hear you, buddy! Some interns pasted pictures from his calendar all over my office! You can tell by looking at him that this guy thinks he's entitled to everything just because you can kind of see his thigh muscles undulating beneath the stretch polyester leggings of his uniform!

FRANK: I know! My wife tore out those same pictures and stashed them somewhere where she'd never find them! You know what, I bet I could take Owens out if it ever came down to it! I'm a pretty strong guy, late-forties, five-foot-eight, sort of husky, with brown hair, green eyes, and a moustache! I could handle myself!

BIG MO: Listen, I've been commenting on sports for almost twenty years! I can tell you one thing about these athletes, none of whom I've spoken with for more than five minutes, and that's this: Even a gentleman like me-also late-forties, sort of husky, moustache-could bring down one of these guys if he had to! You just gotta walk right up to him-doesn't matter if he's changing, doesn't matter if he just got out of the shower, for example-and get up real close, so you can smell his musky cologne, so his breath mingles with your own, and tell him to just cut the crap already! You have to assert yourself with these individuals or they'll take over the team!

FRANK: Hey, you're the coach-el capitan-and you'd better be in charge, and it doesn't matter if it's Terrell Owens, Barry Bonds, or even me toweling off in that locker room! I mean, if it were me patting the dew off my body, and I was one of those bad-attitude guys, I'm sorry, but I'd have some serious discipline coming, wouldn't I, coach?

BIG MO: You'd better believe it! I couldn't have a punk like you distracting us from our playoff push! I'd have to do whatever it took to get you on board!

FRANK: If you took my (bleep) and cranked it until I (bleep) all over your clipboard, I'd have no right to-excuse my French-bitch about it! I mean, I might not like it at first, but that's what I get for putting myself ahead of my teammates, and that's what players like Terrell Owens don't get, Big Mo!

BIG MO: Well, that's how the game's played today, my friend! It wouldn't matter if I zipped you into a gimp suit with your jersey number on it, (bleep) you repeatedly with (bleep) and (bleep) (bleep) (bleep) size of a baguette (bleep) (bleep) that you had to hobble around with an ice pack in your underwear for a year! Times have changed!

FRANK: You're right, maybe our time has passed! Anyway, thanks for taking my call!

BIG MO: Have a good one, Frank!
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