Throughout the empty halls of Flowery Branch, a piercing bell echoed. Each clang was so loud it shook the walls. This bell didn’t signify a new hour, or even the start of church. It was for something more sinister.
Dan Quinn could feel the bell deep in his chest. He sat in the Head Coach Throne dressed in his customary black Brotherhood robe. “The throne sounds real cool,” Quinn thought, “but the smell is awful. And the divots in this thing... who has a butt that shape? Bobby Petrino always seemed to walk funny, but could it even start explaining these divots?”
The throne was the central part of the Sacrifice Hall, the place for Quinn to make his final sacrifice judgement. Sacrifice Hall is also used for the company Christmas party, but today, there’s no punch. Quinn plays the judge and jury, while Samuel L. Falcon plays executioner. Freddie Falcon plays bailiff, and also takes care of some very important administrative work. That guy is a real double threat.
“Bring forward the sacrifice,” demands Quinn.
The far doors open. Freddie Falcon pushes Desmond Trufant through and walks him up to the front of the throne.
Thomas Dimitroff, standing next to Quinn, begins to speak. “Desmond Trufant, you are hereby charged with failing to meet the standards of the Brotherhood, a crime punishable by exile to the pit of fire. The pit of fire is sponsored by Arby’s, the official meal of the pit of fire. Arby’s. We have the meats.”
Dan Quinn thought the sacrifices felt a little more meaningful before they got so commercial, but now the break room has unlimited Arby’s sauce.
Trufant, understandably confused, starting talking. “Hey Dan, I don’t know what’s going on here, but this feels a little dramatic. Can we-”
“SILENCE!” screams Quinn. “The Brotherhood needed you to step up. Penalties, the missed interception, and giving up 100 yards to Tyler Boyd are unacceptable. Seriously, who has even heard of Tyler Boyd? He sounds like an 80s pop star.”
“This is not what we expected when we drafted you for your three-cone drill time. Man, what could have been,” said Dimitroff.
“Tru, how do you plead to these charges?”
“Lets slow down, I don’t usually play slot. So-”
“SOUNDS LIKE GUILTY,” squawked Freddie.
Chanting broke out from the brotherhood: “Guilty! Guilty! Guilty!”
Quinn proclaimed, “I accept your guilty plea. We sentence you to the lake of fire. Those pure can escape and can battle another day. The impure meet a burning end. And, well, we aren’t sure where Jalen Collins is, but the bird says he thinks his stash keeps disappearing. So if you see him in the pit, tell him to knock it off. Also eat Arby’s.”
“THE PIT! THE PIT!” screams the Brotherhood.
The football gods have been unkind to the Falcons this year. With a good sacrifice, the falcon will bring good luck to Atlanta’s matchup to the Pittsburgh Steelers. If not, Atlanta is most certainly out of the playoffs.
“A pit of fire? First off, Tyler Boyd is pretty good. Second, footballs are moving really fast. Who can even catch those. Third, this is madness,” said Trufant.
“Madness?” squawked Freddie? “This is the Brotherhood!” Freddie threw Trufant into the pit of fire, where only fate will save him. Or maybe Collins. He seems to be thriving there. The sacrifice bells rang in celebration.
Quinn smiled, and said, “I really didn’t expect Trufant to catch the point. Get it, like an interception?”