Page 53 of Who's Saving You
TRICKIE NICKIES
Loving: Y’all ready to get humbled this weekend?
Me: Humbled? You throwing INTs this early in the week?
Soba: I’m on a bye week and am coming with popcorn
Me: You better pray your O-line remembers how to spell "block" because my boys are coming for your neck
Loving: Bring it. Just know my girl’s gonna be in the front row watching me torch your defense
Soba: Here we go
Loving: She said she’s looking forward to meeting you
Soba: I’ll give her an autograph
Me: No one needs a one-hit wondersignature
Soba: Oh, the Saint has arrived
Loving: Says the guy bringing a not-girlfriend to the game
Soba: LMAOOO right! Like, what even is that, Nik? You bringing your emotional support reporter or what?
Me: She’s not my girl. She’s there to write a story. And everyone's gotta eat, so she’s coming to dinner with us. You better behave.
Loving: Translation: She lets Nik eat but won’t taste him back
Soba: She’s a cougar, she’s gonna get hers first
Me: Don’t fucking call her that. And none of y’all better look at her sideways
Loving: So he cares. Interesting. This is very contradictory behavior, Mr. Papas
Soba: “Don’t look at her.” “Don’t breathe near her.” “Don’t call my thirty-year-old girlfriend a cougar”. But she’s not my girl
Me: Y’all done? And how do you know she’s thirty?
Soba: It’s called Google. You should try it
Soba: Not even close to being done. I’m bringing a camera crew for when your “not-girlfriend” introduces herself as “just a friend.” I want to watch your heartbreak on repeat
Loving: Don’t worry, she’ll sit with my girl. Mine has a way of getting the truth outta people
Me: So we’ve all got cougars? Guess Trickie Nickies never stray far
Loving: when you’re the hottest trio around, can you blame them?
Me: *rolls eyes* Let’s just focus on the game
Soba: You mean the game where Loving gets sacked six times and your “friend” leaves early from boredom?
Loving: Bro, I’m gonna light you both up so bad on Sunday, ESPN gonna run a 30 for 30 titled “When Trash Talk Goes Wrong.”
Me: Hope you got that speech ready for postgame. I’ll send flowers to your funeral
Soba: And I’ll be there, feet up, drink in hand, watching the fall of two mediocre franchises from my VIP seat
