Satirical, Non-Libelous Dan Snyder Group Fiction, Part II: "... His Tongue Raging Against His Boss's"

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Here's your daily link to Dave McKenna's brilliant "Cranky Redskins Fan's Guide to Dan Snyder," which we'll be posting until Dan Snyder's dumbass libel suit hears the bell tolling. (For those of you keeping track, this is "We Are All Dave McKenna XCVI.")


Today's entry is the second installment of "The Snydering," our satirical, non-libelous Dan Snyder serial group fiction. For more about "The Snydering" and how to play, please read an explanation here.

Part I: In which our narrator arrives at Dan Snyder's mansion under mysterious circumstances for a Spring Bacchanal and Cornhole Tournament and is greeted by Tony Wyllie at the door.

Part II, by When_you_get_the_money_you_get_the_Micah_Hoffpauir:

Tony grabbed my hand. His hands were surprisingly soft. "Right this way, Mister...?"


"Cooke. Call me Cooke."

"Mr. Cooke it is."

A chubby man, wearing only reading glasses and black leather briefs, entered the room. I recognized him instantly. My target: Daniel M. Snyder. His stomach protruded over the leather waistband, his chest hair mocking his clearly shaven pubic region.


"Danny boy," Tony said. "This is Mr. Cooke. Mr. Cooke, this is Danny, er, Dan."

I extended my hand, "Nice to meet you, Dan."

"Did he say the password?" Dan said, ignoring me completely, instead locking his eyes onto Tony.


"Ah, right," Tony said. "The password. Mr. Cooke, if you could."

Shit. I knew it. It was something simple. Something easy. Two letters. Something then "M".


"D.M.," I mumbled. "C.M."

"Mr. Cooke, if you do not know the password you will have to leave," Tony said, grabbing my hand again.


"B.M.!" I said loudly. Tony's eyes widened. Dan looked into nothing. His face dropped. He looked defeated. I called his name, but he didn't respond. I don't think he heard me...


"Snyder, Daniel," Ms. Drasner says, looking up from her roll sheet.

"It's Daniel M. Snyder," a small, pudgy boy whispers behind a set of oversized double-thick glasses.


"I'm sorry? Speak up, son."

"I prefer Daniel M. Snyder when referred to, ma'am."

A gapped grin takes the face of Vinny Loveton — who, by all accounts, does not — , "Daniel M.? D.M." He pauses. "Sounds like B.M.! Do you want us to call you B.M.?" The class laughs entirely. Little Paula Wagner, always the opportunist, takes center stage and begins the "B.M." chant that will haunt a young Daniel M. Snyder for years to come.


"B.M.! B.M.! B.M.!," the class screams in unison amongst spells of laughter. The kids of Silver Spring, Maryland have always had a nasty reputation, particularly when classmates insist on using their middle initial at the age of eight.

To this day, Daniel M. Snyder claims he saw Ms. Drasner smile a little smile that morning, something she denied until her death in 2004. B.M. sent champagne to the funeral.


He introduced himself as Dan from that day forward.


"A 'D'? A fucking 'D'? How is that possible?" Dan yells. The class of 150 University of Maryland students shift uncomfortably in unison. Vinny Loveton grins.


"That's enough!" Professor Cerrato screams, a vein bulging from his forehead. "I've warned you before, Dan. Get out of here and don't come back!"

"You can't do that. I'll sue!"

"Good luck with that, Dan."

"Whatever. Fuck this. Fuck you. And fuck college!"

A young woman named Tanya turns to Vinny, "What the hell is wrong with that guy?"


"I've know him since we were kids," Vinny says. "He's always been a real asshole."

"Kind of cute though," she whispers as she watches B.M. storm out of the lecture hall.



Dan pushes '7' and waits. The phone rings and rings and rings. He waits. The machine kicks in, "Hi. This is Tanya, please leave a message and I will get back to you soon. Thanks!"


"Hi, Tanya. It's Dan. I know you said never to call again, but I'm rich. I'm really really fucking rich. I'm moving out of my parent's place and buying a car and everything. Like I promised. I want you to see. I did it. Call me back 301-555…" The machine cuts out. "Fuck!" Dan pushes his glasses back to the bridge of his nose. He resets the phone and calls again. "Calm down, Dan. Calm down."


"The meeting is at 4:00 B.M."

"What did you say?"

"I said the the meeting is at 4 p.m., Mr. Snyder. For the lawsuit. Dave McKenna?"


"Right. Okay," Dan looks at his watch. "Is Tony here yet?"

"Yeah. He's in his office."

"Say, 'yes'. 'Yeah' makes you sound like an asshole."

Dan walks down the hall towards Tony Wyllie's office on the other end of FedEx Field. Tony is Dan's Public Relations man. His go-to guy. The man he trusts more than anyone; more than his legal team and, especially, more than his family. After all, Dan and Tony share a secret, a bond.


He knocks on the door, pushes it open, enters and closes it behind him. Tony extends a hand in the air signifying "hold on". Dan walks slowly to the chair in front of Tony's desk and takes a seat.

"That's sounds great, Tom," Tony says into the phone. "Yep… Indeed… I will tell him. In fact he is right here… Will do… You too… Ba-bye."



"Of course."

"What he want?"

"The whole gay thing. He just can't get over the fact people know."

"I see," Dan's eyes shift to his shoe tops.

"Hey, Danny Boy. Don't be sad. Look at me."

"No," Dan folds his arms.

"Come on. Look at me."

Dan looks up to a grinning Tony. He holds back a smile, "Are you sure about this McKenna thing?"


Tony gets up from his chair and walks around behind his boss, placing his hands on Dan's shoulders. "Of course I am. We have to set a precedent. If you fuck with Daniel M. Snyder there are consequences."

"I don't know, Tony," he looks up, over his shoulder into his friends eyes. "I'm getting a lot of heat for it."


"And that's my job, baby. To deflect that heat. And I'm doing it. I just got back from College Park. It couldn't have gone better."


"Really?" Dan begs.

"Really," Tony kisses his partner softly on the neck. "Don't you trust me."

"Of course I do," he presses softly against Tony. "You're my Tiger."

Tony kisses Dan hard, his tongue raging against his boss's. Dan feels a hand slowly make its way to his stomach and than his belt, "Fuck 'em. Fuck 'em all."



"Dan! Dan, you there?" I asked. "The password is 'G.M.'"

"Right," he said, snapping out of it. "Yes, 'G.M.' Good for you. You can find the rest of our guests in the back, Mr. Cooke. I will meet you out there. Tony if you will, please join me in the veranda."


Thanks to everyone who submitted entries for "The Snydering." Many were excellent. Most involved a depraved sex act. For those who weren't selected, please keep trying. The story is yours to run with from here. Anything goes. Anything at all. Submit entries for Part III of "The Snydering" to