Good, you're awake. Now would you mind telling me what you are doing in my house?
Karl?
Who's Karl? I don't know any Karl. My name is Atown-Liker and I found you unconscious at my dining room table about two hours ago.
Karl, you ... you don't sound like yourself. Where are the others ... and the little polar bear, Maximillian? What has he learned?
Oh boy. Did you eat another bottle of pain killers? Listen to me. I'll talk real slow:
You are The Player. You play for the Eagles. You are the team's most valuable player and because of you they have won the last three Superbowls. You claim to be the best football player of all time, though woefully underpaid. Despite being a personal friend of Jesus, you are an arrogant, petulant, mercenary, egomaniacal asshole. I found you unconscious here in that chair at my table and I have no idea how you got in here or why. I don't know anyone named Karl and the only baby polar bear I know of is that nasty one in the German zoo. And the only Max Baer I know of was on the Beverly Hillbillies. Does any of this ring a bell?
Karl, you are quite the prankster. Did Truman put you up to this? But enough levity, please tell me what happened at the seance. That's the last thing I remember. We were calling on Maxwell's elder spirit when I apparently fainted. Did we speak with the older Maxwell? Did he tell us how we might defeat Marge? And what of the sea monster? Is she getting closer?
A seance? Here? The elder Maxwell -- you mean the boxer? Marge ... a sea monster? Howbout I call 911 and get you an ambulance from the nervous hospital. With any luck they won't send code enforcement.
No please. Do not alert the authorities. It was the ... ah ... pain pills. Yes, the pain pills indeed. I just need a little bit of rest until the pain pills wear off. No need to create a scandal and hurt the team, right? Perhaps I could rest here for a bit ... in the secret room? You do have one of those I hope.
God, you're more of a looney than I even imagined. OK, fine, you can crash upstairs in the TV room, or the secret room or whatever you want to call it, but you gotta sign a football for my nephew. Hope you're not allergic to cats.
Oh, sign away I shall! Sign, sign, sign. I'll be as busy as a beaver. And I just love cats, especially of the time-traveling variety. ... I shall kick a home run just for you, by gosh I shall! Thank you, Mr. Liker. You are a true fan indeed.
Holy crap, this guy's a mess. Hey Green Guy, did you catch any of that?
Quite enough, I'd say. It seems our football hero is something of an eccentric, to put it mildly. What was that he said about a little polar bear? And a seance? I'd say this fellow is quite deranged.
Hmmmm. To say the least. Hey, call the Irish Tenor and see if I can't get $100 AGAINST the Birds this week. And I don't care about the spread. ... Hey how would he know Truman anyway?
Good question. I'll go out to the shed and ask him.
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