The premise: Coming off a Super Bowl victory, the Patriots open the 2013 season with a blowout win. Unfortunately, they get into trouble for Spygate II. As punishment, Roger Goodell orders the Patriots to fire Bill Belichick and replace him with Emmitt Smith. Three years later, the Patriots beat the Bears in the Super Bowl, 2-0. After the game, Emmitt announced his retirement.
This is a weekly feature that will take a newspaper reporter's perspective and follow Emmitt through his post-retirement days.
By Alex Rodriguez, Special to the NFL Bible Network Monday, Dec. 17, 2018
The shots wouldn't stop firing. There was an endless cacophony of bangs and booms as the bullets ricocheted off objects around him. Emmitt stared out helplessly at Aldon Smith's lifeless body. Smith was a likeable character, but he was expendable, so his death was inevitable.
Emmitt prepared for one final hurrah. He'd stand up and charge at the neo-Nazis, using the juke moves from his playing days to avoid the bullets. His plan was to tackle as many neo-Nazis as possible before getting struck down. Perhaps he'd be lucky enough to hit Aaron Hernandez, which would put an end to all of the bloodshed.
He clenched his fists and decided that he'd make his move on three.
Why do I has to get evolve into this mess? he thought to himself.
If I has just minded my own businessmen, I would not be kill in a second by all of these bullet bill.
Whoops, I forgetted what comeds after two.
Before Emmitt could finish the word, the shots stopped. He then heard some strange voices in the direction of Hernandez and the neo-Nazis. It took a while to make out what they were saying, but they were finally in complete earshot.
"You folks look sweaty from all of your shooting," one man said. "Here's a nice towel to wipe the sweat off."
"Looks like you have a runny nose," another pointed out. "Perhaps you'd like to borrow my handkerchief."
"If you want to take a shower, please use some of my soaps," a woman pleaded. "I've used them recently, but I'm sure it'll be OK if you wash yourselves with them."
What in God's names are goin' up theres? Emmitt thought, as he looked up and caught a glimpse of what was happening. Hundreds of people with scars, boils and abscesses on their faces were approaching Hernandez and the neo-Nazis. They were all holding various toiletries, extending them toward Hernandez's group.
The Walkin' Buc! Emmitt realized. Indeed, the Walking Bucs had reached Gainesville, and they were just in time to save Emmitt's life.
Hernandez and the neo-Nazis, who were initially too taken aback to do anything, suddenly realized that they were in danger of being exposed to the nasty staph infections.
"Shoot them all down before they infect us!" Hernandez ordered, but to no avail. There were simply too many Walking Bucs. One by one, the neo-Nazis had toiletries shoved into their faces, and they collapsed, with new sores quickly forming on their bodies. Soon enough, they would be Walking Bucs themselves.
Emmitt was thrilled that these abominations had saved his life, but he quickly realized it would be all for naught if he didn't escape. He ran out of the country club as quickly as he could, though he heard someone charging behind him. He looked back, and it was Hernandez, who somehow eluded the attack of the Walking Bucs.
"All of my men are dead, but if I'm going down, I'm taking you with me!" Hernandez shouted, pointing his revolver toward Emmitt.
A shot rang out, but Emmitt used one of the juke moves to avoid the bullet. However, Hernandez, who was younger and spryer, was closing in. Emmitt wouldn't be able to evade a second attempt. He said his prayers as he continued to run, but no shot came. In fact, Emmitt no longer heard Hernandez behind him.
Emmitt looked back and instantly felt relieved. Carl Winslow, who brought Emmitt on to this investigation in the first place, was holding Hernandez's body, half of which was stuffed into his mouth. It took the head of the FBI a couple of minutes, but he eventually swallowed Hernandez whole. Winslow burped, covering his mouth.
"Emmitt, you'll never realize the discovery I made!" Winslow said excitedly. "I was watching your shootout, and I saw Aaron take a break from shooting to eat some chicken fingers - Brandon Lloyd's chicken fingers! So I stood back in the distance and waited until he ran away from all of the Walking Bucs, and then I caught him and ate him whole, so I effectively ate Brandon Lloyd's remaining chicken fingers myself!"
Emmitt, who was overjoyed, hugged Winslow.
"Now, now, no need to thank me because justice has been brought down on the evil-doers," Winslow said, patting Emmitt on the back. "No one steals chicken fingers from Carl Winslow, Lord of Doughnuts, Denizen of Doritos and Chieftain of Cheetos."
TROUBLING TIMES AHEAD
By Alex Rodriguez, Special to the NFL Bible Network Monday, Dec. 31, 2018
After foiling Aaron Hernandez's plans, Emmitt spent the entire following week receiving awards and attending banquet dinners in his honor. He and Bill Belichick - the real Bill Belichick - embraced during one of the ceremonies.
"I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart," Belichick said, displaying some emotion, which caught everyone off guard. "I couldn't take prison anymore. They made me use my videotaping skills to record guys having sex, and then they made me join in. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but my anus is in serious pain."
It was nice to be congratulated for apprehending a serial killer, but Emmitt felt a longing for a distant land. Following his final award ceremony, he announced that he would be returning to England to reprise his duties as Roberto Crawford's valet at Downtown Abbott.
"I really miss being a valet parker at Downtown Abbott even though I never drived a car," Emmitt said. "I miss all of the people too except Nurse Edna because she real ugly that she look into a mirror and broke it and have 70 years of bad lucks."
Emmitt also cited that he was concerned that Crawford lost most of his new fortune, acquired from his daughter's marriage, when his investment in Nigerian railroads fell through. The good news, however, was that Mary Luanne was pregnant and due any day.
Emmitt got on a plane bound for London, but hired a chauffeur this time so he wouldn't have to cheat death by driving on the right side of the road. Emmitt warned the motorist that he was on the wrong side by staying on the left, but the driver wisely ignored him.
Upon his arrival at Downtown Abbott, Emmitt was greeted by Mr. Carson Palmer, who looked at him sternly.
"I heard about your triumph over Bill Belichick, but that's not nearly as impressive as the $80 million I have in my bank," Mr. Carson Palmer grunted.
Emmitt ignored the geriatric quarterback and rushed upstairs to find Mary Luanne in her bed, with Master Bates and his hot wife standing over her. Emmitt greeted Master Bates warmly.
"Master Bates, I try to prove your innosex, but I can't find the evident to get yourselves out of prison," Emmitt said, regrettably.
"Not to worry, my chap," Master Bates replied. "They found my DNA all over the house and victim's body, so it was a tough spot for me. Fortunately, my loving wife was able to blackmail the next-door neighbor into retracting her statement in court."
Mary Luanne then called her husband Matthew, who also happened to be her long-lost brother, into the room to fetch her some ice cream and pickles. Matthew departed, but Mary Luanne went into labor 20 minutes later. The birth was quick, and a Turkish-looking baby that didn't resemble Matthew at all exited her womb. Roberto
Crawford could do nothing but smile despite being completely broke.
"What a beautiful young chap," he beamed. "What a glorious day. We have two heirs to Downtown Abbott. Nothing can possibly go wrong!"
At that very moment, Matthew was driving back to Downtown Abbott from the 7-11 where he picked up the desired ice cream and pickles.
Mmm... ice cream and pickles sounds good right about now... maybe I'll have a taste, he thought as he twisted off the lids of both items, as his stomach growled. He was busy trying to gather the food, so he wasn't watching the road. Otherwise, he wouldn't have collided with a man crossing it.
The body hit the windshield, and Matthew slammed on the breaks. He rushed out of the car to make sure this person hadn't died.
"Young chap, young chap, are you OK?" Matthew asked, bending over and checking for a pulse. Matthew didn't feel anything, but noticed something strange.
"Why does this young chap have so many boils on his face?" he said, just as the man opened his eyes.
"Must... give... you... handkerchief..." the man said, shoving the cloth into Matthew's face, before closing his eyes permanently.
Matthew drove back to Downtown Abbott, but didn't feel like himself. At first, he thought he had a mild fever, but then all he could think about was sharing towels and washcloths with members of his new family.
By the time Matthew reached Downtown Abbott, he had become a mindless drone, a new Walking Buc, whose aim was to infect everyone at Downtown Abbott, including Emmitt.