Lane Kiffin meets with Hamilton

By tidefan, on February 16th, 2009

[Interior: A booth by the window at a Sevierville Waffle House. Mike Hamilton sits alone nervously peeking out the window, obviously waiting for someone. We first hear the exaggerated roar of a motorcycle, then a few seconds later see Lane Kiffin pull up on a Harley Davidson. Lane drops into the booth opposite Hamilton.]

LK: What’s up, bro-Ham. [laughs at his own joke]

MH: Lane, we’ve talked about this. You have to wear a helmet in Tennessee.

LK: Do you think Nick Saban wears a helmet?

MH: I don’t think Nick Saban rides a motorcycle at all.

LK: Damn right. I took his motorcycle.

MH: [sighs] Listen…we’ve got some things we need to discuss.

[a waitress approaches the table to take their order. After a second, she recognizes Hamilton]

waitress: Back so soon, Mike?

MH: [chuckles nervously] Heh heh, just can’t get enough of your coffee, Denise.

LK: I don’t have time for chit-chat, doll. I’ll take the California rolls, extra wasabi.

waitress: Sir, this is Waffle House. We don’t have that. Do you want some more time to look at the menu?

LK: Do you think Urban Meyer orders from the menu? Now, go get me my sushi.

waitress: [Starts to say something]

LK: Why are you still here? Last person that hesitated after I gave them an order was Mike Hamilton and I shot him three times…in the face.

[Waitress just stares at Mike Hamilton in disbelief. He looks at her with apology in his eyes and shakes his head]

MH: He’ll have a double order, scattered, covered and chunked. Just coffee for me.

LK: Yeah, my man here knows what I need and he makes it happen.

[Waitress disappears back behind the counter]

LK: So what the hell are we doing out here in the middle of nowhere?

MH: Too many reporters back at the Athletic Department.

LK: Are you kidding? Dude, I love reporters!

MH: Yeah, about that…

[Waitress comes back with coffee]

LK: How’s that sushi coming?

MH: Lane, you’re having hash browns.

LK: You’re fired.

waitress: Is he talking to you or me?

MH: Nobody is fired.  Lane, stop talking.

[Lane grabs a woman walking by]

LK: Hey.  Make sure our waitress here doesn’t spit in my sushi.  I don’t trust her.

woman:  Dude, I don’t work here.

LK: Ha!  Ran another one off!  These rednecks just can’t handle the intensity.  You know what pisses me off?

MH: Couldn’t even begin to fathom, Lane.

LK: We’re sitting in some hillbilly hole in the wall when we could be at a Chik-fil-A, but that whiny-ass Mark Richt got them shut down on Sundays.

MH: That’s not even remotely what happened….[refocuses] nor is it why we’re here. For the love of GOD, just shut up and listen for a minute.

LK: Talking about listening, did you hear that sweet engine on that bike? When are we going to take those training wheels off?

Courtesy of Crimson Daddy - 3sib ©

MH: The training wheels will come off when you demonstrate that you can get out of the parking lot without dumping the bike over.

LK: Oh hey! I’m gonna need a little spending cash this weekend. I’m gonna go hang out at USC with Bryce Brown. Show him how to have a good time in LA, you know what I mean? [whispers] Get him laid…

MH: You’re killing me, Lane. Seriously, I saw my cardiologist yesterday and he blames you.

LK: Your cardiologist needs to quit whining. I’m not here to hold your hand, I’m here to recruit.

MH: You’re here to win games .

LK: If it helps me recruit, you’re damn right I’m going to win games.

MH: The point is to win games, Lane.

LK: You aren’t paying me more than Nick Saban to worry about points.

MH: We aren’t paying you more…[resignedly] you’re right, Lane. Eat your hashbrowns.

[Scene]