To understand A.C. Hackett, you really only need to know three things.
1. He has an unshakable, borderline irrational belief that he is the most talented, intelligent, observant, etc., person to ever grace this green earth. Without exaggeration, if he were in a room with God, he'd look him in the eye and say, without a shred of doubt, "I'm just better than you."
3. He LOVES food, and is a little obsessive about a food routine.
Bailey Cook knew these three things and, with a little bit of North Florida ingenuity, he decided to exploit them in a prank that almost got him thrown out of a fourth-story window.
With the exception of the floor-to-ceiling Maryland flag backdrop, the most recognizable part of A.C.'s locker is the gigantic, opaque Sugar Baby dispenser (seriously, however large you imagined this thing being, it's almost certainly bigger). If you're unfamiliar with Sugar Babies, they're little bite-sized pieces of candy-coated milk caramel, sort of a little brother to Milk Duds. A.C. has been around the block a few times, and, knowing that if you love anything like he loves Sugar Babies people'll fuck with it, installed what he considered to be a foolproof lock on the top of the dispenser. He planned around the brightest minds in the world trying to break into his confectionery container. What he did not plan for? Bailey Cook.
Now, our hero Mr. Cook didn't learn much in his North Florida high school (whether that's on him or on North Florida the world may never know), but he sure did learn how to steal and how to break shit. Rather than try and fiddle with A.C.'s fancy lock, he followed the simpler route. Replace the goddamn thing. In the dead of night, with the help of some of the offensive linemen (you thought I was kidding when I said this shit was huge), Bailey replaced the dispenser with a replica, filled with to keep this G-rated, the stuff that comes out of the business end of a squirrel.
Cut to practice before the third pre-season game: A.C. sauntered over to his locker to grab a couple (read: a few dozen) candies, all the while Bailey is sitting across the room giggling like a school girl. Now, the difference between caramel candy and squirrel shit is fairly obvious, but this is where Hackett fact #1 comes into play. While he sensed (mostly tasted) that something was up, he simply refused to believe anyone had gotten through his lock, so he played it off and knocked back a few more (Hackett facts 2 and 3, respectively).
Belief is a powerful force, but it can only do so much. A.C. sprinted to the bathroom and spent a solid half-hour emptying the contents of his stomach. Outside the door? One Bailey Cook, oblivious to the fact that the door wasn't all that thick, squealing like a stuck pig. Every man has his breaking point, and for the linebacker from the Old Line State, this was it. At the behest of both parties we've decided to spare most of the details of the altercation but, for a sense of perspective, Bailey damn near got drop-kicked back to Tallahassee.
Fortunately, this story ends well. After being separated, Hackett fact #2 quickly kicked back in. Bailey bought him a couple of raw onions and a half-pound of Sugar Babies and all was good in Rookie Room #407-16
Wordcount: Clearly a lot more than 200 haha
1. He has an unshakable, borderline irrational belief that he is the most talented, intelligent, observant, etc., person to ever grace this green earth. Without exaggeration, if he were in a room with God, he'd look him in the eye and say, without a shred of doubt, "I'm just better than you."
3. He LOVES food, and is a little obsessive about a food routine.
Bailey Cook knew these three things and, with a little bit of North Florida ingenuity, he decided to exploit them in a prank that almost got him thrown out of a fourth-story window.
With the exception of the floor-to-ceiling Maryland flag backdrop, the most recognizable part of A.C.'s locker is the gigantic, opaque Sugar Baby dispenser (seriously, however large you imagined this thing being, it's almost certainly bigger). If you're unfamiliar with Sugar Babies, they're little bite-sized pieces of candy-coated milk caramel, sort of a little brother to Milk Duds. A.C. has been around the block a few times, and, knowing that if you love anything like he loves Sugar Babies people'll fuck with it, installed what he considered to be a foolproof lock on the top of the dispenser. He planned around the brightest minds in the world trying to break into his confectionery container. What he did not plan for? Bailey Cook.
Now, our hero Mr. Cook didn't learn much in his North Florida high school (whether that's on him or on North Florida the world may never know), but he sure did learn how to steal and how to break shit. Rather than try and fiddle with A.C.'s fancy lock, he followed the simpler route. Replace the goddamn thing. In the dead of night, with the help of some of the offensive linemen (you thought I was kidding when I said this shit was huge), Bailey replaced the dispenser with a replica, filled with to keep this G-rated, the stuff that comes out of the business end of a squirrel.
Cut to practice before the third pre-season game: A.C. sauntered over to his locker to grab a couple (read: a few dozen) candies, all the while Bailey is sitting across the room giggling like a school girl. Now, the difference between caramel candy and squirrel shit is fairly obvious, but this is where Hackett fact #1 comes into play. While he sensed (mostly tasted) that something was up, he simply refused to believe anyone had gotten through his lock, so he played it off and knocked back a few more (Hackett facts 2 and 3, respectively).
Belief is a powerful force, but it can only do so much. A.C. sprinted to the bathroom and spent a solid half-hour emptying the contents of his stomach. Outside the door? One Bailey Cook, oblivious to the fact that the door wasn't all that thick, squealing like a stuck pig. Every man has his breaking point, and for the linebacker from the Old Line State, this was it. At the behest of both parties we've decided to spare most of the details of the altercation but, for a sense of perspective, Bailey damn near got drop-kicked back to Tallahassee.
Fortunately, this story ends well. After being separated, Hackett fact #2 quickly kicked back in. Bailey bought him a couple of raw onions and a half-pound of Sugar Babies and all was good in Rookie Room #407-16
Wordcount: Clearly a lot more than 200 haha
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