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Show Me The Money.
And as soon as I hit town in my new top of the line (insert dream automobile here) I'd be on the phone with my agent.
Days later I'd be on every local TV and sports radio show telling everyone how happy I am to be here and what a great guy I am.
A week later, I'd be on TV every 20 minutes pimping for the local Ford/Chevy/Mercedes/BMW/dough-nut shop/dog groomer/clothier/strip club/dentist and any one else who can write a check that clears.
Two weeks later, I'd get my photo snapped with five strippers and not only a beer bong, but a real bong, and I'd be naked and aroused and I'd wind up on the front page of the local rag.
Then I'd blow my knee out in the first OTA practice, get busted with an ounce of weed and a eight-ball and three stolen guns in a unregistered, uninsured, vehicle that I was driving without a license with a 17 year old naked Thai ladyboy in the backseat.
I'd never play again, piss away all my money gambling, drinking and whoring around and wind up living in a auction bought FEMA trailer in Mississippi.
That's how I see it going but that's just me.
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