By Jerry Mulligan

I drove home from work yesterday still thinking about the Bills latest collapse and decided to stop in at my favorite watering hole (Cole’s) to see if my old friend Max Barr was there.

I walked in and, sure as me never getting any, there was Max sitting at the bar nursing what looked to be a tall glass of Johnny Walker Red with three shot glasses lined up for backup drinks.

I grabbed the bar stool next to him, slapped him on the back and said “Hi Max, whats new?’”

Max turned to me with bloodshot eyes and drool coming from his mouth and said “F@#k off, moron!”

“Hey why the terse response?”

“No reason, I just think your a moron” said Max.

“Well, I’m just here to talk about the Bills and next year’s draft,”  I said.

“Why don’t we talk about you and your pathetic writing ability, or about you thinking that anyone in this town would give a rat’s behind about your golf game or the Red Sox? Or we can talk about you sexting me every Friday night when you come home sauced and lonely,” said Max.

“Uh you must be mistaken, I ahh, um, would never do that.”

“Well lets look at the old cell phone,” replied Max.  “Here it is.  I’ll read it to you - y do I want u so much, I am not wearing pants. It was sent last Friday at 11:45 pm.  My guess is you just made it home from Friday’s after being shot down by all of the women in the place.  And please stop sending raunchy photos of yourself with the text messages, they sicken me.”

“Uh, I just remembered I have a deadline.  See you later Max.”