Hello Allen, My Old Friend

The content of this article comes from A.J. DeMello and is for entertainment and comedy purposes.
After receiving pressure from John Herrera (and the ghost of John Matuszak) Raiders coach Jon Gruden is trying to talk again with the late Al Davis.

In a room lit by a single candle, he sits with one of Davis’ most trusted people, Amy Trask.

“Hey Jon, why are you dressed like a good guy doll?”

“Because I don’t like goo goo one’s.”

Amy smirks.

“I’m just here as the ‘middle-man’ to make sure, if you can even reach him, that he doesn’t kill you from the beyond.”

“I wore a cross.”

“And I wore an ankle bracelet.”

Gruden laughs.

“Well, here we go.”

“Wait,” says Amy. “Should we wait for it to be July 4th exact?”

“I don’t wanna be completely disrespectful. Best not to bother him on his birthday. Anyways, close your eyes and take my hand. Gonna try this…”
Amy reluctantly takes his hand and shuts her eyes.

“I’m calling out to a specific spirit,” says Gruden. “A man that could turn a band-aid into duct tape and a cocktail into a Mayo Clinic…the one and only Al Davis.”

Gruden waits.

“Al, if you’re here with us, give us a sign.”

Silence.

“Hey Al,” says Amy. “Knock for us if you still hate Jon’s offense.”

There’s a loud BANG on the sidewall immediately followed with knocks all over the room for what seems like an eternity but is really just 82 seconds.

The former AFL commissioner appears in ghost form.
“Hi, I’m Al, wanna play?”
“Jiminy Crickets!” shouts Gruden as he leaps from his chair.
“Hi.”

“Hi Amy,” says Al. “Was this your idea?”

“Oh, no. I was just worried about ‘lil chuckle’ over here.”

Gruden sits back down, collecting himself.

“You hate…my offense?”

Al laughs. “I’m glad with your draft this year though. About time you got speed. I mean, Jordy Farm-legs? Talk about a null Nelson.”

“Al, I want to do right and bring the Raaaiduhs back to the Super Bowl. But I also would like your blessing.”

“You called me from the dead, on my birthday, after winning four games and trading our best player?”

“We were shooting for more wins. But things didn’t work out. We’ve gotten better. I’ve gotten better. And I’m keeping some old trends! Since you’re not here to do it, I now have your son come out on the field and pick fights with me. Not over football, but over who has to find a new barber.”
Al looks serious.
“I’m proud of my son for Vegas. Not your hiring, exactly. You’ve gotten fat, Jon.”
Gruden rubs his belly.
“He’s been trying to channel John Madden,” explains Amy.
“Look, I may not have hired ya this time but that doesn’t mean I want you to fail. I know you love the Raiders, Jon. Almost as much as you love not throwing the football. Just promise me this,” says Al. “You will bring a Championship to the Raiders.”

“I-”

“-you must promise, Jon.”

Gruden stand up and puts his hand out for Al to shake. “I promise.”

Al scoffs. “What are you stupid? I’m not made of solids.”

Amy looks pleased. “I’m so glad this went…ok?”

“But if you keep having below .500 seasons, you won’t need an alarm clock; I’ll wake you up myself.”

Al slowly starts to vanish.

“Don’t embarrass us in our last year in Oakland, Jon. Just win baby.”

Al disappears completely.

Gruden stand up. “Well, that wasn’t bad.”

Amy stands before the lit candle and says, “Just don’t disappoint him, fatty.”

“Too late for that.”

Amy blows out the candle.

For more of A.J.’s humor follow him on Twitter @humorousfiend

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