Hello, my intended...
Well, I see that carrying this conglomeration of pitiful, knuckle-dragging nimrods is a little harder than I thought. Fine. I guess I'll just have to give 'em the Gipper speech...
Bobo storms to the door and opens it, the chatter of his team-mates comes to a halt faster than Niege Thirteen's career, and when it's completely silent, Bobo speaks.
The Gipper is DEAD. If you wanna JOIN him, then just keep stumbling around like you did the FIRST HALF!
The OTHER Teamsters: EEEP!
This pleases me. I want you bunch of marks to give me one-hundred percent! I want to see TEARS...
Barbie starts crying.
I want to see SWEAT!
Everyone sweats nervously.
I want to see BLOOD!
Blackjack smashes XXXTreme with a beer bottle.
........That's just sad.
So remember... When you get back onto that hardwood, remember the plan. To wit, WIN OR DIE!
Everyone shudders fretfully.
Glad to see you've come around to MY way of thinking... So, what are we gonna DO?
The OTHER Teamsters: WIN!!!!
And what if we DON'T?
The OTHER Teamsters: DEATH!!!
This pleases me... Get yourselves together, and you won't have to worry about being stuffed into a Pringles can for your FUNERAL. Oh, and Pizza if we win!
The OTHER Teamsters: WHEN we win. You can't trick us into committing suicide!
Heh. Can't fault me for trying...
You're Welcome... See you SOON!