Coach of the Year

Doug Pederson farted into a tortilla, folded it, and swiped it at the cat on the counter, striking its rear haunch. The cat fled from the kitchen. Doug grunted and used the counter for balance. He stood and scratched vigorously through torn underpants a boil upon the side of his buttock. Swinging open the refrigerator door, he vomited fully into the vegetable drawer and, consequently, expelled a morsel of loose stool into his structurally compromised underpants. He shouted regrets. The Cincinnati game plan binder laid open on the desk, its pages blank. Doug clutched a pen and began scripting plays, viscous bile dripping from his maw.

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