Exclusive Interview: I am Brett Favre’s Wee-Wee!

BSP:

First off, Brett Favre’s wee-wee, what should we call you?

BFW:

Truth be told, I go by many names. The first person who laid eyes on me identified me as Hot-Damn-It’s-not-a-Chick! Later I was Mr. Pee-Pee, Old Faithful. The kids in Pop Warner called me Pencil-Dick, although I don’t know why–you would never have been able to write with me.

BSP:

What does Brett call you?

BFW:

Depends on his mood. Spurt-Person Shooter, Burst and Long. Gayle.

BSP:

Gayle?

BFW:

I have no idea, and I did not ask.

BSP:

So-o-o-o . . .

BFW:

Let’s just stick with wee-wee.

BSP:

I agree. It kind of grows on you.

BFW:

Is that where we’re going with this?

BSP:

Sorry. So, tell me why you reached out.

BFW:

Hey!

BSP:

Come on! That’s a legitimate figure of speech.

BFW:

Okay. Sorry. It’s just that I’m kind of vulnerable right now. I’m not                                     used to all of this attention. It’s been extra hard.

BSP:

Don’t get out a lot?

BFW:

Not as much as I used to.

BSP:

So why now?

BFW:

One word: loyalty.

BSP:

Loyalty to Brett?

BFW:

That’s right. Whenever I have been in a pinch, he has always been right there behind me.

BSP:

And now you want to stand up for him?

BFW:

You bet I do. Ever since this story broke, Brett has been different around me. He—hey!

BSP:

What?

BFW:

Nothing. It’s just—I was hoping it would all—

BSP:

What are you trying to say?

BFW:

It’s . . . I mean . . .

BSP:

Come on. Spit it out.

BFW:

You think?

BSP:

Just let it spew.

BFW:

All right! It was my fault! Okay? It was all my fault!

BSP:

What was your fault?

BFW:

The whole thing! The picture. It wasn’t Brett; it was me!

BSP:

We all saw the picture. We know it was you. And you are darned photogenic, if I can say.

BFW:

Thank you. That actually is my good side.

BSP:

Isn’t it funny how we all—

BFW:

–Let’s not get off track. I want to make this clear. I want everybody to know that Brett had nothing to do with this.

BSP:

I don’t understand. Walk me through the whole thing.

BFW:

Okay, every evening after dinner, Brett goes in his office to write his thank you notes.

BSP:

Thank you notes? Brett Favre writes thank you notes?

BFW:

It’s a habit he picked up from former President Bush. They are great friends. We love the whole family.

BSP:

Really?

BFW:

Oh yeah, Brett and I poke around one Bush or another every chance we get.

BSP: (Cough)

BFW:

Are you all right? Anyway, he writes notes to older friends, but the younger generation prefers phone calls or texts. That night he got ahold of that woman—

BSP:

Ms. Sterger. From the Jets.

BFW:

Right. He wanted to tell her how much he appreciated her meeting with us a few weeks before to help the children.

BSP:

What Children?

BFW:

I don’t know. I sort of stay to myself when there are children around.  Anyway, I guess her phone went to voice mail, because Brett opened his messaging app and typed in her address.

BSP:

And?

BFW:

I’m so embarrassed.

BSP:

And?

BFW:

That’s when I did it.

BSP:

Did what?

BFW:

Someone called Brett from another room to read him that day’s Family Circus. When his arm came down, it was right in front of me.

BSP:

You were, uh, free range?

BFW:

He was changing clothes. I peeked out, poked the camera button, snapped a picture of myself, attached it to the text and hit send.

BSP:

You did all that?

BFW:

As God is my witness.

BSP:

But how—

BFW:

Voice command. Freakin’ Droid!

BSP:

In the time it took to read Family Circus?

BFW:

It was Sunday. And it was one of those strips where Jeffy walks all over the yard in that little broken line.

BSP:

I love those.

BFW:

I know!

BSP:

Because he could just go straight there, but for Jeffy everything is an adventure.

BFW:

Exactly! And that’s how I felt! That’s why I did it! I wanted an adventure. I am Brett Favre’s wee-wee! Do you know what that’s like?

BSP:

Never really gotten a firm grasp of it.

BFW:

I have spent more time behind an NFL cup than any other Johnson in the history of the game, and but it has been years since I have seen any action.

BSP:

Years?

BFW:

Years. Oh, Brett talks a good game. We all get excited. We all look forward to the big event. We all want to see him score just one more time.

BSP:

And? And?

BFW:

We get in the huddle. We break into formation. And just as the drive is about to begin—

BSP:

Yes!? Yes!?

BFW:

He announces his retirement.

BSP:

I knew it! I knew it! That explains so much!

BFW:

So this time I took it upon myself. I audibled. I called a sneak and went up the middle. First and long!

BSP:

Wow! What happened when she got the picture.

BFW:

She freaked.

BSP:

I can imagine.

BFW:

I asked Brett to give me a chance to explain . . . to apologize. He set up the meeting, but she wouldn’t even look at me.

BSP:

Surely you can see. I mean from her point of view.

BFW:

I know. I was heartbroken. And Brett was so ashamed of me. As time went on we thought it had all blown over. Then the story broke again.

BSP:

Why doesn’t Brett just tell the truth.  Get it all out there?

BFW:

I have begged him to let me go public, but  . . . he takes all of it on himself. He is just that good a man.

BSP:

It’s a side of him we don’t often get to see.

BFW:

Ain’t it the truth.

BSP:

So. You have told your story. Now what?

BFW:

Now nothing. There is nothing else I can do. Guess I’ll just hang around.

BSP:

Has it helped to come out? To expel the pent up pressure?

BFW:

It’s exhausting. I am totally limp.

BSP:

I am glad I could help.

BFW:

Will my side of the story do any good?

BSP:

I hope so, but I won’t lie to you. We are up against some pretty stiff competition.

BFW:

Well thanks for trying.

BSP:

No. Thank you for setting things straight. I am sure of one thing. Most if not all of the guys out there who hear this story and see those pictures are pulling for you with all they’ve got.

BFW:

Thanks. That means a lot. Shake?

BSP:

Uh . . . no, but hey, keep your head up!

BFW:

Jerk!

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About bigshotprof

College Professor in the Communication Studies department at Pace University. My personal life fall somewhere in the gap between less than you want to know and more than you need to know.
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