The Chronicles of the Gronk: Episode 2

Bill Belichick: This is Bill, who the fuck is this?

Bob Kraft:  God damnit, Bill!  I told you to stop answering the phone like that.  Anyway, what the fuck kind of ship have you been running the last few months?  I swear, every single time I go somewhere on vacation, I get a call from somebody in the PR group saying that questionable pictures of a drunken Rob keep popping up on the internet.  All I want is to fuck my whores in peace, Bill.  Is that really so much to ask?

Belichick:  What do you want me to do, Bob?  I’m not his dad.  He’s an adult.  He can make his own decisions.  Besides, he’s a “bro.”  That’s just what he does.

Kraft:  Put a fucking end to it!  That’s what!  I don’t care if he’s a brother, sister, cousin or dad.  I’m forking over a shitload of cash for this Swedish villa, and if I have one more 3-way blowjob interrupted because of Rob’s shit, it’s going to be your ass, Bill.  I’ll trade away that mother fucker before you know what hit you.

Belichick:  We both know you would never do that.  The kid is a rockstar.

Kraft:  Try me, mother fucker. [to somebody in the background]  Where do you think you’re going, bitch?  I paid for 13 days, and I have enough viagra and blow to keep myself up and hard the whole time… No!  I don’t give a fuck how tired you are, you can’t have any!  Now get back on the ground and keep sucking! [hangs up the phone]

Belichick:  God damnit.  [clicks intercom]  Get Rob in here.  Now!

Receptionist:  Yes, master.

A few minutes pass.

Receptionist: [over intercom] I have Rob here, sir.

Belichick:  Send him in.

Belichick presses a button that conceals the monitors behind a sliding mahogany bookcase.  The Gronk enters.

The Gronk:  What’s good, Brostradamus?

Belichick:  Sup, Mr. Brojangles?  Look, we need to talk.

The Gronk:  Dude, you know you don’t need to thank me.  The sluts I sent up here yesterday were pro-boner, as always.

Belichick:  No, no.  It’s not about that.  Although they were top notch.  Listen for a second, because from one bro to another, this is going to be hard to say.

The Gronk:  This sounds serious, bro.

Belichick:  It is.  I got a call from the Kraft-man.  You need to cool it for awhile.  We’re going to need you to operate on the bro-down until training camp starts back up.

The Gronk:  Why?!  I’ve been bro-ing out so hard, lately.  It’s been awesome!  Chasin’ sluts and poundin’ butts!  That’s just how I roll!

Belichick:  I know it is, and if it were my call, I’d let you bro-out until the cows came home, but it’s not my call.  Those whiny bitches in PR keep calling Kraft, and he’s getting pissed.

The Gronk:  What do you mean, “they keep calling him?”  Don’t they know that he’s at Slut Fest 9, crushing box right now?

Belichick:  Yes, they know that!  But those prudes don’t respect a man’s right to bone.  Look, I don’t like this any more than you do, but you need to settle down.

The Gronk:  Do my ears deceive me?  Am I really being told to cut the party short, all because some 4/10s in PR are mad about some pictures getting over-bro-own?  If I gave those hos a taste of The Gronk, I promise you they’d change their tone in a heartbeat.

Belichick:  We both know that’s true, but all it takes is one ungrateful deepthroat to run to the media and fuck this up for all of us, and we can’t afford that risk.  If it will make you feel better, you know you can always bro-down with some sluts in my penthouse on the Harbor.  It’s like a goddamn carousel I’m running over there these days.

The Gronk:  [sighs] Fuck, brah.  I guess I can try to operate on the down-bro, but I can’t make any promises.

Belichick:  That’s all I ask, Bromaha.

They exchange a super-chill bro hug.

Belichick:  Oh, yeah.  Can you send up a few more girls when you leave?

The Gronk:  Of course, dude.  What kind do you want today?

Belichick:  Two asians, one black one, and three Filipinos.  I’ve been working on something I want to try out.

The Gronk:  They’ll be up in 10 minutes.  I’ll get out of here now so you can get ready.

Belichick:  You’re the brost of the town.  Thank you.

The Gronk and Belichick exchange a knowing nod.  The Gronk leaves.