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Jim: what’re you doing?
John: what do u think dummy? im getting read for the super bowl
Jim: call me dummy again and ill hit u so hard youll have to blow yr nose thru yr eyes
John: u wish, dum dum
Jim: consider it done! yr dead!
John: i said “dum dum” u sh*tball
Jim: whatever, what plays u runnin on sunday?
John: eff u!
Jim: cmonnnnnn! what plays?
Jim: tell me 1 of yours and ill tell you 1 of mine
Jim: john! i will shove yr face into a toilet and scream Fleetwood Mac lyrics in yr ears if u dont tell me!
John: I remember when u did that in middle school – not a chance it happens again
Jim: yeah? what r u gonna do about it?
John: ill text that pic of u hula hooping drunk at a Sonic Drive Thru to Deadspin
Jim: no one caressssss
John: it’d be a nice big distraction right before the game
Jim: i dont care, u think it was a distraction when i benched whats-his-name for tattoo guy?
John: u dont even know your own QB’s names?
Jim: eff u!
John: how do u expect to combat our nickel blitzes if u cant even tell your QB to look for em
Jim: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA- got u now!
John: how do u know im not just sayin that?
Jim: just like u tried convincing mom u werent dating that chick with no thumbs?
John: shut up
Jim: just like u picked up that raccoon cuz u thought it was a football and got rabies?
John: i’m blocking ur phone number
Jim: just like u puked on yr kicker before yr 1st game coaching and blamed it on a rookie?
John: i’m gonna text dad!
John: u are so dead this Sunday
Jim: whatever doofus