Givussafare Rubbe was drafted by the New Orleans Second Line at pick number "something" in round "far too late". Since he's joined the team he's been having some weird feelings, hearing weird things, seeing weird things.
It's scary. Rubbe hasn't started doing anything different other than playing in the NSFL for the team. but his life itself has changed for the worse by far.
Here's a day in the life of Givussafare Rubbe.
Each morning Rubbe wakes up hoping for fair rubs for offensive linemen knowing that his crusade will ultimately end in failure because there are so few people willing to give offensive linemen the chance they deserve.
He gets out of bed and throws on a shirt. Then from the bathroom on the other side of the room behind he hears it. Distinct but quiet. An ominous "doot". *doot*
Things are never going to be the same.
He goes toward the bathroom to take his shower. All of the walls are purple, teal and gold. The water comes out of the shower head with the shower head sounding like a really really really like 10 minute doot. *dooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooot*
Every day with this shit. You go to bed thinking... no. hoping, that this is just a nightmare and you'll wake up. But that isn't how it is.
He's step back out of the shower. dries off, and gets dressed. He goes downstairs to make some eggs, but they're already on the table with the smell of bacon in the air. In front of the stove, the bright purple stove, is none other than Mr. Skeltal.
Rubbe gives a deep sigh and says "thank mr skeltal".
Mr. Skeltal responds with a *doot* and begins to dance out of joy.
![[Image: 40WPQVu.gif]](https://i.imgur.com/40WPQVu.gif)
This just can't continue. The constant doots. The bright purple and teal walls and furnishings. The fucking skeleton living in his house.
"mr skeltal we need to talk. You've been living in my house for years. I need my sanity. Please you need to leave."
Mr. Skeltal isn't happy, this was the deal and now Rubbe was trying to renege on it. He began to walk toward Rubbe.
![[Image: 8c8.gif]](https://i.kym-cdn.com/photos/images/newsfeed/001/020/293/8c8.gif)
Rubbe prepared for his rebuttal, recoiling at the approaching skeleton.
Mr. Skeltal stopped next to Rubbe who opened his eyes to a trumpet less than an inch from his chest. What followed was possibly the most horrific thing Rubbe could imagine. Mr. Skeltal raised the trumpet up to Rubbe's face and let out two of the loudest and resonating doots to ever be dooted.
![[Image: giphy.gif]](https://media.giphy.com/media/J0WeVOLjuqW2I/giphy.gif)
There was no conversation to be had here. As long as Rubbe was a part of the Secondline he would be haunted by Mr. Skeltal. Is this all worth it?
"I'm sorry mr skeltal. This is a lot to deal with... I'll try to do better."
![[Image: giphy.gif]](https://media.giphy.com/media/Y2bmgFIyzz7r2/giphy.gif)
Mr. Skeltal went back to the stove to grab the bacon and brought it to Rubbe's plate. There are worse things than this I suppose. He could have a shitty roommate AND have to make his own breakfast.
It's scary. Rubbe hasn't started doing anything different other than playing in the NSFL for the team. but his life itself has changed for the worse by far.
Here's a day in the life of Givussafare Rubbe.
Each morning Rubbe wakes up hoping for fair rubs for offensive linemen knowing that his crusade will ultimately end in failure because there are so few people willing to give offensive linemen the chance they deserve.
He gets out of bed and throws on a shirt. Then from the bathroom on the other side of the room behind he hears it. Distinct but quiet. An ominous "doot". *doot*
Things are never going to be the same.
He goes toward the bathroom to take his shower. All of the walls are purple, teal and gold. The water comes out of the shower head with the shower head sounding like a really really really like 10 minute doot. *dooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooot*
Every day with this shit. You go to bed thinking... no. hoping, that this is just a nightmare and you'll wake up. But that isn't how it is.
He's step back out of the shower. dries off, and gets dressed. He goes downstairs to make some eggs, but they're already on the table with the smell of bacon in the air. In front of the stove, the bright purple stove, is none other than Mr. Skeltal.
Rubbe gives a deep sigh and says "thank mr skeltal".
Mr. Skeltal responds with a *doot* and begins to dance out of joy.
This just can't continue. The constant doots. The bright purple and teal walls and furnishings. The fucking skeleton living in his house.
"mr skeltal we need to talk. You've been living in my house for years. I need my sanity. Please you need to leave."
Mr. Skeltal isn't happy, this was the deal and now Rubbe was trying to renege on it. He began to walk toward Rubbe.
Rubbe prepared for his rebuttal, recoiling at the approaching skeleton.
Mr. Skeltal stopped next to Rubbe who opened his eyes to a trumpet less than an inch from his chest. What followed was possibly the most horrific thing Rubbe could imagine. Mr. Skeltal raised the trumpet up to Rubbe's face and let out two of the loudest and resonating doots to ever be dooted.
There was no conversation to be had here. As long as Rubbe was a part of the Secondline he would be haunted by Mr. Skeltal. Is this all worth it?
"I'm sorry mr skeltal. This is a lot to deal with... I'll try to do better."
Mr. Skeltal went back to the stove to grab the bacon and brought it to Rubbe's plate. There are worse things than this I suppose. He could have a shitty roommate AND have to make his own breakfast.
![[Image: caltroit_isfl.gif]](https://sig.grumpybumpers.com/host/caltroit_isfl.gif)
![[Image: 019p.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/J7XFN96k/019p.png)
![[Image: IOg9i8X.jpeg]](https://i.imgur.com/IOg9i8X.jpeg)
