Tom Brady: Hey Eli, thanks for having me over for this pre-Super Bowl potluck. It's a little muddy outside. Want me to take my Uggs off here?
Eli Manning (wearing a "Manning the Grill" apron): Hey Tom, yeah that'd be great, thanks. Got your cake there?
TB: Yeah. It's a yellow cake and the icing is $100 bills! Isn't that dope? I asked the baker to do it. And the four cherries on top are sculpted like Super Bowl rings.
Eli (laughing): Nice touch, Tom, nice touch. Seems like one cherry too many to me.
(Eli pulls fourth cherry off and swallows it whole)
TB: Wow, okay. I just wanted to take a friendly baked-good jab before the game.
Eli: No, I understand. But there's no way that can top my Amazing Catch Bread Bowl in the kitchen.
(They walk to the kitchen. The bread bowl is baked just right with tasty dip inside, and it is positioned just so on top of a Giants helmet. The tortilla chips with which to dip have a Patriot logo on them.)
TB: Wow, Eli. That is impressive. Trying to bring up painful memories for me, I see.
Eli: All in good fun.
TB: You know what's even more impressive. MVP seasons, 50-touchdown seasons, three rings and and a smokin' supermodel wife...and the fact that I had an illegitimate child with another hot actress. I'm as potent as our offense circa 2007. I will get my revenge.
Eli: Yeah, that's all well and good Tom, but you don't have what I have. You don't know what I'm capable of out there.
TB: Oh yeah? And what's that?
Eli: Throwing a blind pass with all my might that your defense should be able to defend basically every play, but the wind shifts and it lands right in my receivers hands for a significant gain. Keep in mind, I'm not limited to just one of these per game.
TB: Alright, Eli. We'll just have to see what happens on Sunday.
Eli: We will.
(Brandon Jacobs walks into the room, and walks into Tom Brady. He just stops, and decides he's gone far enough. He enjoys some dip.)
Eli: Brandon, explain to Tom why his team will go down on Sunday.
BJ: mmmph grrrrrrlll mmmmmphs ssssssssplluuuurg (mouth really full of tortilla chips)
TB: Whatever. I don't buy it. As good as your defense has been playing. You don't have a statuesque man's man at tight end that grabs onto footballs like he's grabbing a porn star's ass. And he scores touchdowns like he scores with blond sillies.
Eli: Gronk is injured. I'm sure our defense will maneuver around him with no problem. I'm sure Antrel Rolle will say something so scathing, it will totally deflate your team and increase our chances to win.
TB: Either way, we can trot Hernandez out there, who is just as effective especially if we run the Santa Maria play. Too many weapons for you guys to handle.
Eli: Our boys will get to you, Tom. No problem at all.
TB: Fine, I'll just pitch it to Ochofive or the "Miraculous 12-year-old" Danny Woodhead out of the backfield.
Eli: Whatever man. How are your boys going to stop Cruz and Nicks?
TB: Oh they're going to nix Cruz and his vivacious hips.
Eli: You seem to forget we have Bear Pascoe out of our backfield. I mean, his first name is an animal. How can you possibly expect to stop him? He's a vicious forest creature for God's sake!!!
TB: Whatever. I can't wait to see Coughlin's hands glued to his hips in the sissiest way imaginable after I throw my third touchdown to some white guy.
Eli: Why don't you just ride Belichick's ass, as I'm told you're privy to do, to an adult clothing store so he doesn't look like he should be holding a change cup under a blanket in the Bronx.
TB: You better watch it, Eli. Once I swipe this comb through my hair, it's on.
(Eli stands there with his "Wait, why didn't that work?" face and holds the expression for 15 seconds.)
Eli: Look, why don't you just get out of here before something bad happens. (He pulls up his sleeve. A watch shines like a beacon.) Remember, I am UNSTOPPABLE.
(Tom and Eli meet nose to nose with their weapons of choice, a comb and a watch.)
TB: We'll settle this on the field on Sunday. And when I win, I'll act so humble it'll make your stomach turn.
Eli: And when I win, I'll finally be almost as good as my brother. And you can shove it. Up Belichick's ass.
TB: Sunday.
Eli: Sunday.
(Brady carefully puts on his Ugg boots and slams the door behind him. He runs the comb through his hair and smirks a Hall of Fame smirk. Eli returns to the grill. Devin Thomas tries to talk about what a good griller he is and tries to take over. Eli denies him. He looks at his watch and sees his reflection in the face. He smirks an boyish smirk that should only be underestimated by the Devil himself.)
ENJOY THE SUPERBOWL!
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