Scene: Rivalrytown, Arizona. The Old West. We’re in a small mining town, complete with a downtown replete with all the cliches. A saloon, a barbershop, the sheriff’s office, the local newspaper, the inn, and the general store line Main Street, as a wind picks up. The wind blows dust and tumbleweeds down the street.
A door slams. A young man, Zanshin, who is no more than 12 and dressed in knickers and a black and orange tab collar, runs from the newspaper office across the deserted street to the saloon.
Zanshin: Madam Babyj!!! Madam Babyj!!! Mr. Shoop over at the newspaper told me to tell you they’re comin’
Jarbabyj saunters down the stairs into the heart of the saloon. She is elegantly dressed, and carries herself with an air of authority.
Jarbabyj: Whose comin’, dear?
Zanshin: The…The…THE PACKERS. Oh my God the Packers are coming. They’ll be here on Monday night.
Jarbabyj: Oh, sweetie, calm down. I’ll have Sheriff Jauron round up the boys and we’ll take care of it.
Zanshin: But Ms. Babyj, they have Brett Favre.
For the first time, the calm confidence leaves jarbabyj’s face, but only for a second.
Jarbabyj: It’ll be OK, now go get Mr. Blache, Everything will be fine…(to herself) It has to be…
Monday Night
Scene: It’s a long shot of main street. The clock atop the church reads 11:50, just 10 minutes before High Noon. The wind is blowing more fiercely now, as the people of the town mill about nervously. One man stands in the middle of the street, the Sheriff’s Star on his chest blazing in the noontime light.
Sheriff Jauron: Alright men. Let’s get ready they’re almost here.
His words immediately cause a stir in town. The civilians all flee the street, heading inside where it is safe. As one woman enters the inn, she is tackled by a white blur wearing #54. Cut to the barbershop. The barber is just finishing up shaving the large, powerfully built gunslinger in the chair. His mop of black hair is unruly, but he carries himself with a aura of leadership. The black and orange #15 on his chest marks him as Jim Miller. He slowly gets out of the barber’s chair, toss the barber a gold coin, retrieves his hat from the hatrack and saunters outside to Jauron’s side.
Jauron: Howdy, Jim.
Jim: Howdy, Dick. Sure is windy.
Just then the wind picks up and a tumbleweed comes blowing the street. It hits Jim Miller in the shin, and Miller immediately falls to the ground, gasping in pain and grabbing his leg.
Jauron: Oh for Halas’ sake, Jim. It’s a damn tumbleweed.
Jim: Ow, Ow, Ow. I’m not injury prone.
Jauron: Zanshin, go get me Chandler. He should be in the old folks home outside of town.
As Zanshin leaves to get Chandler, he is immediatley tackled by a white blur #54. Then, a slow rumble begins in the background. It gets louder and louder to the point of being nearly deafening. Suddenly, there is the piercing shriek of a train whistle. Anthony Thomas has arrived. The entire town immediatley declares him a savior and carry signs proclaiming him the next Walter Payton.
A-Train: I’m here, coach, err I mean Sheriff Jauron.
Jauron: So, Anthony. How’s that league low 3.0 yards per carry doing for you?
A-Train: It’s the O-line, I swear. (He is immediately tackled by the white blur #54.
The street is now beginning to fill with Bears players. They shuffle nervously foot to foot, except Marty Booker, who stands with calm grace. Another tumbleweed starts coming down the street, only to be immediately tackled by the white blur with the #54.
Jauron: That’s enough, Brian. Save it for later, And David Terrell, remember to shoot your gun, not shoot off your mouth.
The white blur slows down enough to see a large, powerful, young man named Brian Urlacher.
Urlacher: Where is everybody?
Booker: Daniels, Holdman, and a buncha others are in the doc’s office.
All conversation is cut short by the roar of horses hooves as they approach. A flood of Green and Gold atop Magnificat steeds arrive on Main Street, led by the grizzled Brett Favre. As they alight from the horses, we hear the trumpets of Heaven playing “We are the Champions.” Terry Glenn gets off his horse, and immediately runs to the doctor’s office crying out loud like a baby. The rest of the Packers dismount, and head up the street to meet with the Bears. Ahman Green takes out his gun, only to fumble it immediately. Najeh Davenport stops at the inn to take a crap in a laundry basket, only to have the basket immediately tackled by Urlacher. Brett walks down the boardwalk in front of the Saloon. Jarbabyj steps out in front of him.
Jarbabyj: Howdy, big boy. Got a second for a old flame.
Favre: Get thee behind me, harlot. I’ll have none of it. I’ve got a job to do.
Jarbabyj: We have Vicodin…
Favre: Never, you jezebel. Never.
Jarbabyj: But I love you.
Favre: (takes the time to spit out his wad of chew on the saloon floor) You’re a Bear fan, get bent.
Jarbabyj: (all her composure immediately flees) Fine! Get Out! You Bastard!! (Favre starts to walk away) Wait, I love you! No, I hate you. No, I love you!!! Dammit.
Favre leaves jarbabyj sobbing on her knees in the doorway of the saloon. The Packers have arrived and face off against the Bears. Tensions are high. Packers stare relentlessly into the cowardly, shifting eyes of the Bears. This fight was over before it started.
Packers 27
Bears 16
Let the smack begin.