THE SCENE: Ancient kicker MORTEN ANDERSEN is working out in preparation for the next season, assisted by his TRAINER.

Andersen: There I was, surrounded by lions! With little time to go, I dispersed them with a single kick of my potent leg, which back then had the force of twelve steam locomotives. That's how I won the Colosseum!
Trainer: That's great, Mr. Andersen. But instead of listening to your jabbering, I'm going to do my job and help you get into NFL shape.
Andersen: Niffel?
Trainer: You know, the place where you fought the Detroit Lions?
Andersen: I fought lions?
Trainer: Alright Mr. Andersen, let's start by warming up your leg.
Andersen: What about the rest of my ancient temple?
Trainer: Mr. Andersen, with all due respect, you're a kicker. Only self-absorbed Guile-look alikes like Jeff Reed need to keep their whole bodies in shape. For God's sake, look at Sebastian Janikowksi.
Andersen: I think I went to school with his great-grandfather.
Trainer: I'm sure you did, Mr. Andersen. Now let's have you stretch.
Andersen: Am I playing for the Atlanta Winged-Birds-of-Prey again?
Trainer: I'm pretty sure they're going young at the position, so you might be looking in another city.
Andersen: Young? But I'm young as a fledgling dodo!
Trainer: The dodo went extinct a hundred years ago, Mr. Andersen.
Andersen: Balderdash! Then what did I have for dinner last night?
Trainer: Chicken.
Andersen: Never heard of one. But if I can't play in Atlantis, where am I going to play?
Trainer: Probably some place where lots of other really old people still play football. You know, like the Raiders.
Andersen: I fought some Raiders once. There I was, on a field made of some kind of plastic grass...
Trainer: Oh Christ, I give up.

(The actual article about Andersen's training is pretty good, though I doubt he'll be with the Falcons next year. Check it out over at the AJC.)