Appearing fedora-ed and bowtied after a loss to the New Orleans Saints, Cam Newton informed the media that he was leaving the Panthers and joining the Rat Pack.
“I’ve had enough of the concussions and the losing,” said a despondent Newton, tugging at his bowtie. “So, I’m saying goodbye. I’m headed to hang with that suave bunch of crooners and actors: The Rat Pack. We’re the epitome of style and swagger, and we own Las Vegas, baby.”
This statement was met with a stunned silence from members of the press. Before anyone could gather themselves to inform Newton that members of The Rat Pack were long dead, Newton continued, gaining an ever increasing 50s-era lilt to his speech.
“Not nobody can touch us, see?” a dreamy look in his eye. “We’re the tip of the top. The cream of the crop. We run this crazy business called entertainment. We was just a bunch of kids with a dream, and look at us now! Me and Frank. Dean and Sammy. Yeah, we’re gonna paint the town! Boy it’ll be a gas…”
Newton continued this rant as he stepped from the podium, down right through the press, and out the back door.