Isolated and cut off from access to the outside world, they are loathed, feared, and despised, relegated to colonies far away from the lights and glitter of Monday Night Football. Away from the prying eyes of a world that doesn't understand that their condition is non-communicable and even curable in some cases, their wailing and moans of pain cannot be heard.
They are the front offices of quarterback-less teams. Pity them, for they are the wretched and unloved. Here, they rend their garments in angry futility and shout nonsense at each other, far away from the gleaming castles of teams with franchise quarterbacks.
And so it goes, ever on, season after season. You either have a franchise quarterback or you are.... here.
Suddenly, out out of the darkness comes a solitary man, shrouded in a grey hood and moving with sinister purpose. Into the midst of the wretched swarm of executives he goes, until all is silent and he has their full attention.
His face in shadow, none of his facial features are visible. Only a sense of radiating malice can be detected in the gloom. His voice croaks: "Who here among you would like this bright... young... shiny... new... (pause)... (longer pause)... QUARTERBACK!!
There is nothing but silence for a few moments. Then the wailing begins, and the begging: "Let us see him", a sad voice cries. Another executive crawls up to the hooded figure on his knees saying on "Touch... must touch the quarterback".
The voice from within the hood cackles with glee. "But there is a price... A price you must pay to be released from here. It is but a pittance".
"I ask only for your future. And your soul".
Thus ends our short play. I hope you have enjoyed it.
Also, there's this:
Bill Belichick knows a lot of things. Mercy is not one of them.