A Serendipitous Delight

Killer Strawberries    7    Turbo Pussies    5

Game Report

February 11, 2013

To say that the Turbo Beavers had more overall skill than the Strawbs in last night’s hockey tussle would have the holder of such an opinion of the right side of the truth. But, as all hubristic cocky little pricks know, more skill does not equal victory. Grit and a good dollop of horseshit luck are a helluva lot more effective. And the Strawbs, if anything, know how to manufacture  enough of the former and a surfeit of the latter when the occasion demands.

The Strawbs' equine-excretion-inspired good fortune began with a few well-timed absences. The Marquis DeSad, he of the impertinent lip, impudent attitude and insolent wit, was somewhere in Texas making love to his ego. Dr. Thug was out with concussion 10¹² suffered as result of running into his own car door after too long a roadside debriefing with Ron Bacardi. Freight Train Laronde remains on the injured reserved list, having suffered an undisclosed lower body injury at The Word Lap Dance Championships in Amos, in the Province of Queeebec.

The game started out badly. The Strawbs were down 3-0 in the time it takes a new girl to tell the Gumbomeister to sod off.  But being in the behind position is nothing foreign to any Strawb worth his salt. After taking a collective deep breath, the squad mounted its assault. Slickery showed why he is considered his father’s quasi-legitimate son as he scored almost at will. The Mayor was on fire, cheating repeatedly off every faceoff to scream his way to center ice where Shiny would elegantly feed him a breakaway pass. He scored on 2 of his 10 attempts, a scoring percentage well-above even such luminaries as Phil Kessel and the now deceased Gary Croteau.

The Ice Martian was effectively ineffective, as was his protégé, MagBoy. Warrin’ Peace finally contributed an important tally early in the second period then immediately went into his Idle Some More mode.

The Vice played much better when he demoted himself to defence. He clicked with Shiny and they have decided to get married, in the hockey sense. The other two defenders were a disgrace bordering on ineptitude. Fortunately for them, this writer will not go into any details, since he doesn’t have any. The preceding opinion is based solely on the hearsay provided by the Vice as he was being driven home by said writer. A fuzzy recollection also conjures up the phrases “effing crappy, woeful and time for retirement.”

After the game, everyone went straight home to wake up their spouses with the good news. Nothing, absolutely nothing, was consumed.