Flaccid Free Agents Get Stiffed By Strawbs

Strawberries 6 Free Agents 3

Game Report

January 8, 2009-01-11

Despite a stiff resolve to start the second half of the season with gusto, the Killer Strawberries, last night, came out flaccid and languid, yet managed to stick one to an even flaccider squad of dispirited Free Agents, who were apparently still smarting from seasonal overconsumption of turkey, Nat King Cole and oversized Christmas shooters.

Perhaps it was the overwhelming smell of new Spandex in the Strawbs’ pre-game dressing room which caused some of the poor on ice play. Spandex, which may look good on Britney Spears and Miss White Go Go Boots, is known to throw off noxious fumes and to cause lightheadedness. The olfactory emanations from rubber patching job on Butcher Brophey’s underpants alone could have taken out the Taliban. So disoriented was the Butcher that he played like Dr. Thug as he repeatedly succeeded in battering the only female on the Free Agents’ team, a slip of a girl so small she could easily be squeezed through the mail slot of a Barbie and Ken dollhouse.

Dr. Thug continued his descent into senility, as over and over, he attempted to complete full 10 minute shifts without even pretending to want to come off the ice. Time after time, he feigned deafness as his team mates implored him, with various rude and creative epithets, to get the hell off the ice and give somebody else a chance to work up a sweat. “I felt like a pony out there,” he proudly asserted. Unfortunately, he played like a Hyundai Pony which, as everyone knows, is rust prone and obsolete.

Magboy was a slight cut above his linemate, Dr. Wontcomeoff. He flitted aimlessly about the frozen surface like an exhausted crack-addled ADHD sex addict left, without proper adult supervision, in a boudoir full of brand new un-blownup blowup dolls. The intent was there but the execution sorely lacking.

Sir Gawdawful Gumby suited up for the match with a sense of purpose rarely displayed by this rugged blueliner. Over the holidays he had gone to visit his folks at their marijuana farm, Ganja Gardens, on Salt Spring Island. He came back with a couple of unpaid fines, genital herpes and plenty of bad advice. Among the rostrums handed down to him on his westerly sojourn was the one which went like this:”you need to travel more, son.” Our intrepid Gumby took the advice to heart as he made repeated (and rather unnecessary) trips to the Sin Bin. His poor interpretation of the term "travel" almost cost the Strawbs the game.

Whoahorny Richardson, again, was a non-factor in the outcome, having previously been asked to retire from the Killer Strawberries in September, 2008. His jersey and socks did, however, made it to the game, as a tax-deductible gift from his newly-formed charitable organization, Warnie’s Strategic Writeoffs Inc.. The donated gear was scheduled to be used by Whoahorny 2.0, aka Slickery McMillan, who failed to show up to the match or even to call in with his regrets. What’s with this equipment? Is it destined never to grace a committed Strawb? Is it cursed?

The real bright spot in the game was Archilles Perron, who until this point in the season has been content to ride the coattails of the irrepressible Ice Marshall. In the first period, Archilles screamed down his off-wing, crossed blue line without losing control of the puck or his feet and wired a beauty into the top corner of a net defended by a slip of a girl still reeling from the Butcher’s previous terror tactics. As Archilles unleashed his blast, you could almost hear the simultaneous involuntary glandular retractions of the incredulous Strawbs watching from the bench. Fortunately, the puck did not hit the slip of a girl. Had it done so, she would have dropped like a Kennedy.

All in all, it was a bad game with a great result. So great in fact, that the Strawberries were forced to celebrate their first victory of the year by assembling for post-game libations at the Terminal Tavren. Follies were recounted, Jesse’s excellent goaltending performance over-praised and funds raised to help Gumby pay off his West coast fines.


4 Black and Tan, 2 Bud, 6 Guinness, 4 Harp, 1 Steamwhistle, 6 Blue, 5 pounds of local wings, and some lingering Spandex fumes were consumed.