The Devil Gives the Cowboys a Win Vs. Lions

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“Devil, you wanna see me?”

“Oh, yes Joe, said Satan. “Please sit.” Joseph Jefferson Jackson, better known to early twentieth century baseball fans as “Shoeless Joe Jackson” plopped down into the wooden chair and pointed to his feet. “May I?” The Devil nodded and Jackson put his feet on the Devil’s shiny glass desk. But he wasn’t shoeless. Far from it. Instead, his feet were tucked into a pair of Gucci Coda Satin sneakers. The Devil looked down his ugly red nose. “Shoeless, huh.”

Joe Jackson

Joe Jackson knows his footwear

“Hell no!” said Jackson in his Southern drawl. “These here are Gucci’s. Cost $1,100 in today’s money. You don’t think I’m gonna spend the rest of forever down here wearin’ nothin’ but skin, do ya?” 

Joe Jackson

“Shoeless” Joe Jackson conspires with the Devil to make it happen for the Cowboys

The Devil smiled. “Nice. The perfect accessory for a guy who helped throw the 1919 World Series. Listen, the reason I called you in this morning is today’s playoff game in Dallas. Do you follow football at all?”

Jackson tucked his thumbs into his belt and leaned back in his chair. “Yep, Devil — started followin’ after those O.J. killin’s in ’94.”

“Well then, being that you’re a fan and you have extensive knowledge about — how do I say this — throwing games— I thought that maybe you’d have some ideas about giving the Cowboys an edge.”

“Didn’t quite reckon’ you’d be a follower of America’s team there Devil,” said Jackson.

“Joe, there’s something about that Jerry Jones cat I find fascinating. The greed, the money, the power. And the way he and his political minions celebrate a win in his private box. Utterly delicious!”

The Devil

The Devil and Shoeless Joe Jackson come up with a plan to give Dallas a win against Detroit

“Well big guy, when we threw the Series to the Red Legs, whenever a Cincinnati player would bat a ball out in my territory I’d muff it if I could—that is, fail to catch it. But if it would look too much like crooked work to do that I’d be slow and make a throw to the infield that would be short. My work netted the Cincinnati team several runs that they never would have had if we had been playing on the square.”

The Devil crossed his arms and looked away. “Trash. That won’t work in football. I need something involving the refs.”

Jackson scratched the back of his neck when it hit him. “OK then, why not have ’em blow a big call at a crucial time? Somethin’ like having them change their minds on an interference call.”

Satan rubbed his chin with his ugly red claws. “Hm. And maybe not even offering a clear explanation. Like it was no big deal. The Lions get off a crappy punt and the Cowboys score the go ahead touchdown on the ensuing drive.” His red eyes beamed with fire. “The Boys move on while those poor souls in Detroit take another shot in the crotch. Brilliant!” Satisfied with the plan, the Devil showed Jackson to the door. “Joe, thanks a bunch. It’s comforting to know that I have sleazy minds like yours at work 24-7. I owe you.”

“Well, Devil I’ll tell ‘ya what. Start by turnin’ down that Abba music in my cell.”


Abba: Not Joe Jackson’s favorite


Posted by on January 5, 2015. Filed under God Talks Back. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0. Both comments and pings are currently closed.