If you’re not familiar with, or want a refresher on the Patrick McGillicuddy Saga, click here to read
This is Patrick McGillicuddy. He has no soul.
He was raised by a pack of wolves and Lombardi trophies. And he’s my arch nemesis. Worse than Yankees fans. Worse than Portnoy. Its McGillicuddy. *Smashes fists against desk*
And on a far-too-regular basis, McGillicuddy comes out from under the bridge he lives beneath to make his fucking signs and walk around at a parade. Its like an every other year occurrence. This year, Patrick turns 15 years old. 15 years. 10 goddam titles. That is DISGUSTING.
That aint right, man. Thats how you breed spoiled kids with no scruples. You win 15 titles in 10 years and one day you’ll probably be the kid who microwaves cats simply because you feel like it. Why would this kid ever accept the word “no?” He’s been living a cushy life of championship parades practically since he came out of the womb. I wish you nothing but the worst, McGillicuddy. You’ve had enough happiness to fill 3 lifetimes and you’ve only been alive for like 1/5th of one. I cant wait until the Boston Reign ends and you live out the final 50 years of your life as miserable as I do.