Jonas Valanciunas had settled in, as he often did, for a night of TV watching. His head was the only visible part of his body, as he was swathed entirely in a handmade quilt from his native Lithuania. The newly-acquired flat screen TV in front of him was a significant step up from the Soviet Union-era model he had previously owned. It cast a calming glow throughout his otherwise dark apartment.
It was time for Thursday Night Football. He had never tried watching this strange sport that Americans held so dear. He knew there was a Canadian version as well, but Kyle Lowry had assured him that this was the preferred variety.
He wanted to watch the Rams tonight, since they had a Lithuanian ancestry player named Laurinaitis on their roster, but they were not playing. Luckily, the Buffalo Bills were, and they were his second favorite team. Kyle had said that Buffalo was basically a Toronto suburb anyway.
The game had started. Jonas was having some difficulty following the action; things were not happening even though the clock was running.
“Why did you throw the ball? You were supposed to keep running!” he exclaimed, voice somewhat dampened by the Bills-insignia-bearing helmet he was wearing. Kyle had said this was the normal headgear for watching American football. “Pass inter-what? That was a good play why are you going backwards!”
He reached down to his table to start the snackage. Finding the path to his mouth blocked by the facemask of the helmet, he fumbled with the straps and cast it off. Flamin’ Hot Cheetos were first, followed by a couple swigs of Old Milwaukee.
He continued to watch in near silence, minus the continual crunching and slurping.
“Don’t let those Dolphins win! They are pussy. Don’t just stand around, fight for pride of Buffalo City! What does 4th down mean? What are you doing?”
The Bills were punting, which did not please Jonas.
“We have not enough points. Why give other team the ball? That is not a good strategy in my opinion. Another advertisement. You are kidding.”
This continued for a bit, with the game being played on the field being confusedly watched by Jonas. He was disappointed; there wasn’t as much violence as he had hoped for a sport where the participants were armored so heavily. Soon the preponderance of advertisements and the copious amounts of alcohol he had consumed took their toll.
He curled up fully onto his couch, valiantly attempting to keep his eyes open. His efforts were short lived, however, and soon he was fast asleep.