The Big Ben Roethlisberger Story of Broken Televisions and a String of Pearls

24 Jul 2009

The formal complaint against Ben Roethlisberger has been revealed . . . and it’s not pretty. Since it’s Friday and not many people are willing to read through 36 pages of law blabber, we’ve decided to break this down into a children’s story. 

There once was a fat ass named Big Ben.

Ben was rich and famous. He was also a quarterback.

There once was a girl named Andrea McNulty. She worked for a hotel.

One day, Big Ben stayed at Andrea’s hotel. His TV broke while he was waxing off to old reruns of Saved by the Bell.

Frustrated, Big Ben called Andrea at the front desk.

“FIX MY TV” he said . . . so Andrea tried calling the electrician, and then her manager. No one answered.

“FIX MY TV” Big Ben once again exclaimed. With no other choice, Andrea went upstairs to fix Big Ben’s TV.

But the TV WORKED!

 But Saved by the Bell had ended. Big Ben wanted sexy time. His 6’5” fat ass blocked the doorway. Andrea said:

picture-3But Big Ben’s a NFL quarterback. Everyone wants a piece of his manly-motorcycle-surviving lard-ass. He began the countdown to blastoff. Andrea pleaded:

picture-4Since Big Ben doesn’t like being on bottom . . . and women can’t get pregnant on top he begins to calculate a solution to the situation. The game-plan was a 6-in-and-out on three:

picture-5Big Ben, a man of his word, continued to have his way with Andrea. Like the true 6’5” version of Ron Jeremy he is:

picture-6At that moment, he rolled over and Ben turned on Sports Center. Andrea was crying in the bathroom. The highlights were of Kobe Bryant. In a panic and after realizing what he had done he exclaims:

picture-7Andrea, embarrassed, worried, and now depressed fled the room. The next day, she visited the security guard to tell him about the situation. He told her that a lot of girls would love to have been in her situation, even the hotel manager.

picture-8Without any hope, Andrea went to the police. She wants Big Ben to pay up:

picture-9The end.

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