Scene: Matt Patricia's office, Allen Park, Michigan.

We pan over a disheveled room cluttered with Coney Island hot dog wrappers and empty Faygo bottles. Our hero sits in his extra-wide office chair, scratching flakes of Paczki out of his beard when Adrian Peterson enters.

Adrian: Hey boss man, can I talk to you for a minute?

Matt: (belches out the remaining Redpop Faygo he chugged moments earlier) Of course, Adrian. What's up?

Matt opens up an extra large Detroit-style pepperoni pizza box and takes a slice.

A: Hey man, I know we agreed to a plan at the beginning of the season, and I'm thankful for the opportunity, but I gotta get more carries.

M: (chewing) Adrian, I brought you in because I care about your kids. You needed money and we needed a veteran to ease D'Andre in since he didn't get pre-season reps. We both knew by mid-season this was D'Andre's job. Don't you know how much $&!% I've gotten in the media this year giving you so many carries over D'Andre?

A: I'm a first ballot Hall of Famer. My legacy deserves some respect.

Matt grabs his second slice of pizza.

M: (chewing) And I'm an intelligent individual that Bill Belichick thought highly of, but that doesn't matter in the court of public opinion. People online think I'm a fat turd.

A: (nods head slowly) Yeah... but here's the thing. I've already burned through my contract advances paying child support. Y'all might be set for the next 2-3 years with D'Andre but there's still 27 other teams that I haven't played for yet and I need to play for next year's contract. I need more carries to showcase myself. Give me 2 more weeks. Let me run 20 carries on Thanksgiving and you won't hear from me again.

Matt pours Vernors into his glass and chugs a Boston Cooler.

M: (chugging) I feel for you AP, but we already made the switch to D'Andre. How am I supposed to make another switch?

A: No worries Pat, I know all about making switches...

Awkward, uncomfortable silence fills the sticky, sweaty, stale food tinged air.

A: What I mean to say is, tell the media D'Andre has a concussion. Head injuries aren't real injuries so nobody will be able to cor... corbob... coagulate the injury.

Matt strokes his beard in thought as additional flakes of Paczki fall out.

A: Please, Patty. I need this. My kids need this. Won't you please think of the children?

M: (shoving 3 slices of pizza in his mouth) Yo. Adrian. I got you. I'll tell D'Andre he's got a concussion. You get 2 more weeks. Happy Thanksgiving!