JAY CUTLER emerges from his bathroom wearing nothing but an opened bathrobe. The bathrobe -- pink, fuzzy, and clearly fraying is embroidered with #CuttyDoesIt on the ass. Water drips from Cutler's hair on to the carpet but he doesn't seem to notice. En route to the fridge he stops for a second and stares at the telephone. Next to the telephone is a torn off piece of notebook paper with a phone number written on it. Cutler stares at the telephone dismissively, as if the telephone picked him off four times in a game. After much hesitation he picks up the phone and dials the number on the piece of paper.
[Phone rings three times. A woman answers]
WOMAN: Hello. Rivers residence.
CUTLER: The time has come Philip. Do you know who this is?
WOMAN: This is Philip's wife, Tiffany. May I ask who's calling?
CUTLER: Oh, couldn't tell the difference. Umm, this is Jay -- Jay [five second pause] Jay Smith. From work.
TIFFANY: One second, Jay. I'll get him for you.
[Tiffany yells upstairs to Philip that he has a phone call. Rivers plays with his two boys, while his four girls are locked in another room. He is in the middle of explaining how to properly throw a football. He is visibly perturbed. "My kids are retards," he mumbles under his breath. He instructs his boys to practice "The Bible" while he takes this phone call]
RIVERS: Who is it, honey?
TIFFANY: It's a man who calls himself Jay Smith. He says he works with you.
RIVERS: Fuck. I think that's the QB Coach, I better take this. [Tiffany scurries out of the room and up the stairs]
RIVERS: Hello, this is Philip.
CUTLER: Hey there, cockboy.
RIVERS: Now what did I tell you about that dog gone nickname. I didn't intend to stare at Tolbert's dick. It was right there in front of me. I couldn't look anywhere else.
CUTLER: Jesus, you're more pathetic than I remember. Let me give you a little hint as to who this is. 4-1: your record against me. I know you keep track of those meaningless stats.
RIVERS: Well by golly, this isn't Jay Smith at all. This is Jay Cutler, the hot-doggin SUMAVABITCH I've had to answer questions about all week.
CUTLER: Very good, limp dick. Although I probably shouldn't call you that anymore. You have like 17 kids now.
RIVERS: Just had my sixth thank you very much. A beautiful and healthy baby boy. He just made one month. He's ree-tarded. I've tried teaching him to throw a football and he just doesn't get it.
CUTLER: All kids are retarded. They're like women -- and beat reporters -- and football fans.
RIVERS: I've had just about enough of your foul mouth. All these years later and you haven't grown up one bit. I'm a family man and a devout Catholic. I play for a DOG GONE ball club that's lost four in a row. I have better things to do than trade dick jokes with you.
CUTLER: Philip, and I will call you Philip from now on -- dick jokes were not the purpose of my phone call. I have grown up and matured since our little run-ins. I want to make things right. I didn't have to call you this afternoon, but I DID. I care and I want to turn our relationship around. I've been meaning to for a while but I couldn't work up the courage. I knew how little you thought of me. Remember when we met in Denver? You said if I'd write to you you would write back. See, I'm just like you in a way. I never knew my father neither, he always used to cheat on my mom and beat her.
RIVERS: WHAT THE???.......MY FATHER WOULD NEVER.....AHH it appears I've been taken. Here I am, thinking you're trying to mend fences and you're quotin' Satan's music. Well the sun don't shine on the same dog's tail all the time, buddy. Know that.
CUTLER: You strike me as more of a Lynyrd Skynyrd kind of guy.
RIVERS: I'm hanging up now....
CUTLER: WAIT! Philip, I'm sorry. Behind my rough exterior is a sensitive, caring man. I've been battered and bruised on the football field. My reality star girlfriend and I are still putzing around the issue of our relationship. I'm a football player and a FUCKING LEADER. It's true, I've been putting on airs. But it's the only way I know how. Do you have any idea what it's like playing with a shitty team your whole life?
RIVERS: I do Jay, I do. I'm in the middle of that right now. In fact, some would argue I've always played for shitty teams -- just with good records and gaudy numbers.
CUTLER: We're not that different, Philip. The media tries to paint us as a couple of assholes. We ARE a couple of assholes, but there's more to us than that. I know the kind of good work you do, talking to the kids, saving them from getting some pussy and all. And I run my diabetes foundation. We're good guys, but no one ever wants to talk about those things. They just see a couple of guys with bad body language and peculiar facial expressions. That's all we are to them.
RIVERS: You know as well as I do that we're both used to being the biggest asshole on the field. Now it's just human nature or some shit that you never want to give that title up. When you used to grab your crotch and wave off the officials I became jealous. I felt my scowls and sideline tantrums paled in comparison to your performance. Me lashing out at you was a way to cover up the thoughts of inadequacy I was feeling.
CUTLER: It's getting too real right now, bro. I'm glad we've had this talk. But let me make one thing clear: when Sunday comes and it's time for the coin toss, I hate your FUCKING guts. I want nothing to do with you. We're going to go on like we still despise each other.
RIVERS: No doubt. It's good for business. The dumb ass fans need to feel like we still hate each other.
CUTLER: As long as we're being honest, I slipped this video into film study this week:
CUTLER: Virginity is the greatest gift you can give your wife and vice versa? [laughs] I bet you've never had good sex in your life. I bet you've never ventured away from the missionary position --
RIVERS: Enough. Nobody talks about my wife and family like that. I WILL be the bigger asshole on Sunday you can bet on that. I've never been more motivated.
CUTLER: Jay Cutty can do no wrong! I'm winning games. I'm all of a sudden the charming asshole. I'm interacting with fans on Twitter and giving handy J's to my parody account. My popularity is at an all-time high! Charges fans are ready to run your ass out of town. It's a good time to be Jay Cutty.
[Rivers hangs up. He asks his wife if she would consider spicing their relationship up -- maybe some edible panties or party masks. She refuses. "Just for that, no sex for a month." Rivers picks up a Sears catalog, sandwiches it between the playbook and heads down to the basement]
[Cutler drops his robe and exposes himself to the neighbor's daughter. He calls up Greg Olsen and gets his voicemail. He leaves a message, "You're not going to believe who I just talked to. Call me back when you get this. Urgent."]
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