Ten seconds from steam shooting from his ear canals.
Hello, you’ve reached the office of Jerry Jones, Football Mastermind of the Dallas Cowboys and Desperados. I’m sorry I can’t take your call right now, but if you leave a message after the tone I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. If you’re one of my players looking for bail money, please dial 0 for the operator.
Hey, Jerry, it’s Jon again. Just wanted to check in on you, see how you’re doing. I know how seriously you take these things, and I don’t want you to get too down in the dumps. Think about your blood pressure.
So, yeah… I’m on tour in Europe right now, but I’ll be playing Madison Square Garden next month. You want some tickets? The All American Rejects are playing too, maybe that’ll make you feel better?
Come on, Jerry, pick up the phone.
It’s no fun kicking your ass twice a year in this rivalry if you’re going to be a little bitch about it. Get over it, man. Call me.
[Jerry stares vacantly at phone as dried Cherry Garcia flakes off two-day stubble]