Icemen Finally Goeth Away

Game Report Nov. 27, 2006

Icemen 9 Strawbs 4


It was not without a great sigh of relief that the Killer Strawberries finally saw the last of the Icemen. The fiendish frigid fops flagellated the feckless Strawberry firebrands by a flattering score of of 9 to 4: flattering to the Strawbs who spent the whole evening spinning their heads about their necks like a bunch of demented Linda Blairs on crack cocaine. The Icemen were so quick that the only evidence of their presence on ice was often just wispy contrails of domination and brutally administered humiliation. As Gumby, a budding sage and established smartass, so eloquently put it: “they aren’t getting any younger”. The same of course cannot be said about the Strawbs in general, despite the team’s strict regimen of exercise and Ponce de Leon Youth Supplements.

The game was an unmitigated disaster from start to finish, except for the stellar play of Dr. Thug who potted his first career hat trick. The team’s best fan in history, Miss Go-Go Boots, did not attend the match and had not the courtesy to inform the club of her intended non-attendance, resulting in some very crestfallen players. Butcher Brophey again hurt his team by attempting numerous, unprovoked yet frequently penalized decapitations in his own zone. The Vice Ice tried, vainly, to shrug off 52 years of physical and mental self-abuse. Wanderin’ Warren seemed lost in the barrens and Freight Train 444 Laronde succeeded in pokechecking 0 Icemen in 456 valiant attempts. Jesse “The Leak” secured his one way ticket to Buttface, Alaska for a holiday reconditioning stint with a performance worthy of Black Jack McCormarck, the deaf, dumb and blind canine mascot-goaltender of the now defunct Chilliwack Composters, a team so inept that no trace of them can be found. Pyjama Man was virtually invisible (although his breath gave his presence away with its hint of Aqua Velva and cottage cheese). Even the Ice Marshall had a rare off-game, despite his +3 rating for the night. Magnesium Boy skated like a house on fire and we all know how many goals you get from a house on fire.

Fortunately, the team’s spirits picked up considerably as Freight Train 444 made a welcomed proposition concerning a post game debriefing complete with sarsasparillas and lo-cal nachos. Except for Wanderin’ Warren, the Vice Ice and Pyjama Man, the re-spirited Strawbs sped off to Casey’s to chase the blues away. And away they went. Peace once again reigned in an unfair universe.

6 mugs of Keiths, 1 plate of lo-cal nachos with cheese, 8 chicken wings and a lot of bragging from Dr. Thug were endured.