On the 7th day before Christmas, the Killer Strawberries give to you: Six Achilles' Perron, Five Smokey Hills, Four Freight Train Larondes, Three Mr. P.'s, Two Magnesium Boys and One Butcher Brophey in an ugly mood.

On the 8th day before Christmas, the Killer Strawberries give to you: Five Smokey Hills, Four Freight Train Larondes, Three Mr. P.'s, Two Magnesium Boys and One Butcher Brophey in an ugly mood.

On the 9th day before Christmas, the Killer Strawberries give to you: Four Freight Train Larondes, Three Mr. P's, Two Magnesium Boys and One Butcher Brophey in an ugly mood.

On the 10th day before Christmas, the Killer Strawberries give to you: Three Mr. P's, Two Magnesium Boys, and One Butcher Brophey in an ugly mood.

11 Days

On the 11th day before Christmas, the Killer Strawberries give to you: Two Magnesium Boys and One Butcher Brophey in an ugly mood.

12 Days

On the 12th day before Christmas, the Killer Strawberries give to you: One Butcher Brophey in an ugly mood.

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.

Tough Muck-nov23-2006

Game Report Nov. 23, 2006

Muck 2 Strawbs 1

A first of Brobdignagian proportions occurred last night at the venerable Pete Palangio Arenas. No, Pyjama Man didn’t, for once, show up without his usual yet disturbing selection from his wife’s intimates drawer, and no, Gumby did not remain silently ineloquent when confronted by bad refereeing. And no, “The Torch” did not ramp up his game to the heights it had once reached when he was a pre-novice. What did happen defied all odds and a long streak of precedent. For the second time in this young and unproductive season, the Strawbs were rooted on by a fan, the same fan as two games previous. Missus Butcher Brophey, resplendent in her new red squirrel coat and matching white Go-Go boots, was at the game to cheer on her main man and presumably his donkless teammates. No one really believes she came for the hockey, as extraordinary as the hockey usually is. Rumour rampant in the dressing post-game held that this beautifully misguided and love starved creature had got wind somehow that it was the Killer Strawberries’ Annual Bob Bon Game and Dressing Room Social. Having run out of her own confectionery stash at home, it is believed she showed up for the candy and a chance to invade the Strawbs’ sacred inner sanctum for a peek at manhood in full bloom. And candy she got: most of it eye candy. She was also the surprise winner of a half eaten box of mediocre chocolates. The other half had been picked over after the game by a sorrowful band of Killer Strawberries who found themselves on the short end of a 2-1 match with a squad called Muck.

As the Dressing Room Social wound down and plans were being made for the habitual trip to the Terminal Tavren, Miss Go-Go Boots was asked by an inquisitive Strawb for her impressions of the on-ice performance of her new favourite team. She was quick to point out that Jesse “The Leak” covered his rebounds much better than he had at her last outing, that Freight Train 444 would be better served not taking penalties at the same rate as her boyfriend/husband/candy provider, and that Dr. Thug played more like Dr. Slug, the criticism delivered in such a mellifluous manner that no one took the slightest offence. To the contrary, the aroused Strawbs hung on to her every utterance and prognostication. When questioned where she had acquired her hockey astuteness, Miss Go-Go Boots informed the half-naked throng that she had once captained a group of wayward nymphomaniac truck mechanics somewhere in the vicinity of Buttface, Alaska, which also happens to be the home of the Strawbs’ farm team’s farm team, the Nasty Cupcakes. After ascertaining that her former team, the Pliant Mattress Backs, were no longer in existence, three requests for a voluntary transfer to the Nasty Cupckakes were immediately withdrawn.

At the Terminal Tavren, the team’s greatest fan in history continued to the regale the assembled with tales of her interesting and salty past. The time flew quickly and her

health was toasted often and heartily. Miss Go-Go Boots is now expected to be a fixture at all future Killer Strawberries games.

3 jugs of Guinness, 3 jugs of Keith’s and some lurid, chocolate induced tales were consumed.

Strawbs Get Bombed-No One Claims Responsibility

Game Report Nov. 20, 2006

Aviators 5 Strawbs 1

It is axiomatic that you don’t take a pee shooter to a knife fight or take your grandma to an orgy (unless you’re just dropping her off). The results of either faux pas can easily be predicted. In the same vein, a proud hockey team cannot expect to keep winning when half its team stays home on game night to suckle bonbons with the Missus. There have been too many Strawberry bonbon suckers as of late and the team’s executive is not pleased.

Last night, despite the valiant efforts of those few assembled under the Strawberry banner, the squad suffered an ignominious defeat at the hands of team it could have beaten. Except for Gawdawful Gumby, who played as confusedly as a starving Hindu in a hamburger factory, the Strawbs who bothered to show up gave it a collective 115.52% in an effort to secure a long awaited victory. Alas, our intrepid skaters were out of breath by the end of the warmup and fought like cuckolded jackanapes over the single oxygen machine located at the defencemen’s end of the bench. It was not a pretty sight as Gumby, determined to hog as much of the aerated elixir as possible, kept lighting up what looked like soggy cigarette butts sent to him by Smokie Hill as a peace offering for a long forgotten off ice transgression (the incident in question is still being investigated by Special Envoy Yasser Arafat).

At the end of the match, there was a telegram awaiting Ice Marshall Walpole, originating from the Aloha Baby Compound in Oahu. While the full contents of the missive were not divulged, IMW did hint that he was being summoned to Hawaii to do some “Splainin’”. The Vice Ice wondered aloud whether the timing of the summons could be deemed suspect as the IMW’s predicted arrival time in Hawaii will coincide with that of the three Dallas cheerleaders recently expunged from the Cowboys Pep Squad for “salacious and inflammatory behaviour unbecoming young Christian women.” “Pure coincidence” replied a steely voiced IMW. “I’m going to the Compound to save your sorry butts”.

Although the Strawbs did suffer another deplorable loss on the year, IMW was effusive in his praise of his teammates as he boarded the team’s private jet, Stiffy One, at Jack Garland Airport, following the habitual post game debriefing at the Terminal Tavren. He was quoted as pontificating so… “ Mag Boy skated like a youthful yet somewhat deranged Barishnykov, Dr. Thug sent pretty passes, sometimes to his own teammates, Pyjama Man was flamboyant and feisty in his febrility, Wanderin’ Warren wandered well and often, Freight Train 444 kept both hands on his stick as one after another of the Aviators bid him adieu at our blueline, the Vice Ice hardly swore at his exhausted teammates for failing to cover up his egregious strategic defensive errors and Jesse “The Leak” let in fewer goals tonight that anyone expected given his recent performances”. “I don’t want to talk about Gumby…he knows what he did and why he did it. Sometimes the indefensible speaks for itself.”

“As for the sorry SOB’s who failed to show tonight, I have only one thing to say: Vous me fendez les fesses, especes de gigots de vaches”, which in rough translation means show up next time or you won’t be attending the Christmas Gala.


2 jugs of Guinness, 2 jugs of Keith’s, 12 chicken wings and some lame excuses were consumed.

Next game : Thursday, November 23 @ 9:30pm

Stagger Swaggers Stultify Strawbs

Game Report

November 16, 2006

SS 6 Strawbs 4

While the Strawberries mounted a decent effort in last night's tussle with the smooth skating and passing Stagger Swaggers, the score was not indicative of the beating the team took. Jesse "The Leak" finally upped his game and has been confirmed as the starter on Monday, November 20. It was good to see Freight Train's obstreperous side as he took more penalties in this game than in the 150 previous ones. His second infraction was one of the nicest muggings yet. Nothing else of note occurred but the cold draught at the Terminal Tavren was welcomed by all post game revellers.

4 jugs were consumed. Everyone got home by 11:30pm. Peace reigned in the world.

Strawbs Take Down Team Up

Game Report Nov. 13, 2006

Strawberries Win By Default



Team Up, the Radio Arts hockey squad, failed to show up in sufficient numbers last night and the Killer Strawberries were forced to add another win to its total for the year. This was not good news for a team looking to play in the Canadore OHL, the less vulgar of the Canadore intramural leagues. Nevertheless, the Strawbs, accustomed to winning any way it can, used the freed up ice to hone its substantial hockey. The ever astute Vice Ice, acting with unusual alactrity upon receiving the late breaking news that Team Up would be notable by its absence later in the evening, set up an exhibition game against a group of ragtag wastrels from his late afternoon class. The Wastrels, bolstered by the underappreciated skills and hockey acumen of the Ice Marshall, went on annihilate the flustered Strawberries by a score of 5004 to 7. It wasn’t as though the Strawberries did not try. They did their best on this evening and their tawdry performance could be excused on the basis that, most of the time, they were left gasping and awstruck by the the artistry and flowing grace of the opposition, led by the Ice Marshall himself who contributed 2007 or 2008 of the 5004 goals. “I tried to hold back as best I could under the circumstances” reported the IM to the fan in attendance.

After the match, Jesse “The Leak”, shellshocked and sunburned by the constant flashing of the red light at his end of the rink, was booked into the team’s Mental & Physical Rehab facility in Paduka, Arkansas, home to the world’s largest dildo collection. It is hoped that the rehab stint will return the bedraggled puck stopper to his erstwhile magnificence and help him quit sucking his thumbs as well.

As noted earlier, there was a fan at the game, even though Fan Appreciation Night is still a couple of months off. The fan was, of course, none other was Mrs. Bonehead Butcher Brophey who had come looking for the husband. Apparently the Butcher had forgotten to lift the toilet seat at home at about 7pm, leaving on the seat a small liquid reminder of his recent bathroom usage. The Mrs. did not cotton to this vile act of unhygienic discourtesy and screamed over to the rink in her refurbished Lada DuctTape Edition to find and excoriate the perpetrator. At the end of the game, The Butcher was seen and heard being yanked out the arena by his ear to face some unpleasant music at home. The Strawbs’ prayers of intercession must have been heard by the gods of hockey because 20 minutes later the Butcher pair showed up all lovey-dovey at the Terminal Tavren and ordered colour matching Shirley Temples. We can only speculate on the reasons why things turned as they did but certain theories put forward (out of the Mrs.’ earshot) are very likely to be true. The Butcher himself would not comment other than mumble something incomprehensible about the small size of a Lada’s back seat.

Next game is this Thursday at 9:45. Maybe this time, Pyjama Man can haul his sorry ass off the couch and make a contribution.

4 jugs, 1.5 Kilkennies, 2 Shirley Temples and 12 chicken wings (seasoned) were consumed.

Strawbs Take Down Team Up

Game Report Nov. 13, 2006

Strawberries Win By Default



Team Up, the Radio Arts hockey squad, failed to show up in sufficient numbers last night and the Killer Strawberries were forced to add another win to its total for the year. This was not good news for a team looking to play in the Canadore OHL, the less vulgar of the Canadore intramural leagues. Nevertheless, the Strawbs, accustomed to winning any way it can, used the freed up ice to hone its substantial hockey skills. The ever astute Vice Ice, acting with unusual alactrity upon receiving the late breaking news that Team Up would be notable by its absence later in the evening, set up an exhibition game against a group of ragtag wastrels from his late afternoon class. The Wastrels, bolstered by the underappreciated skills and hockey acumen of the Ice Marshall, went on annihilate the flustered Strawberries by a score of 5004 to 7. It wasn’t as though the Strawberries did not try. They did their best on this evening and their tawdry performance could be excused on the basis that, most of the time, they were left gasping and awstruck by the the artistry and flowing grace of the opposition, led by the Ice Marshall himself who contributed 2007 or 2008 of the 5004 goals. “I tried to hold back as best I could under the circumstances” reported the IM to the fan in attendance.

After the match, Jesse “The Leak”, shellshocked and sunburned by the constant flashing of the red light at his end of the rink, was booked into the team’s Mental & Physical Rehab facility in Pawtoocka, Arkansas, home to the world’s largest dildo collection. It is hoped that the rehab stint will return the bedraggled puck stopper to his erstwhile magnificence and help him quit sucking his thumbs as well.

As noted earlier, there was a fan at the game, even though Fan Appreciation Night is still a couple of months off. The fan was, of course, none other was Mrs. Bonehead Butcher Brophey who had come looking for the husband. Apparently the Butcher had forgotten to lift the toilet seat at home at about 7pm, leaving on the seat a small liquid reminder of his recent bathroom usage. The Mrs. did not cotton to this vile act of unhygienic discourtesy and screamed over to the rink in her refurbished Lada DuctTape Edition to find and excoriate the perpetrator. At the end of the game, The Butcher was seen and heard being yanked out the arena by his ear to face some unpleasant music at home. The Strawbs’ prayers of intercession must have been heard by the gods of hockey because 20 minutes later the Butcher pair showed up all lovey-dovey at the Terminal Tavren and ordered colour matching Shirley Temples. We can only speculate on the reasons why things turned as they did but certain theories put forward (out of the Mrs.’ earshot) are very likely to be true. The Butcher himself would not comment other than mumble something incomprehensible about the small size of a Lada’s back seat.

Next game is this Thursday, Nov. 16 at 9:45. Maybe this time, Pyjama Man can haul his sorry ass off the couch and make a contribution.

4 jugs, 1.5 Kilkennies, 2 Shirley Temples and 12 chicken wings (seasoned) were consumed.

Strawbs Choke On Duck Confite

Game Report-Nov. 9, 2006

Ducks 7, Strawberries 3

With 1:31 left to play in a mediocre match against a strong Ducks squad, the 2 most brilliant zebras in the league, Refs Giggles and Narcissus NoNuts, graduates cum laude of the Robbie deVuono School of High Performance Refereeing, decided to send the second of a pair of less than gruntled Strawberries to stew and cuss in the ice cold shower of Dressing Room #3. The game was not allowed to come to its natural termination because the much maligned Strawbs found themselves without the requisite minimum number of players needed to continue the game under rule 12.3, subsection 41bII, of the Super Solipsistic Ever Evolving Canadore College Hockey Code (the SSEECCHC). While it is highly improbable that the remaining intrepid Strawberries would have mounted a comeback of any description, given their deleterious depletion and the fabulously faulty eyesight of the usually reliable Jesse "The Leak", it would have been nice to have given the fan her full money’s worth. Sorry Magnesium Girl. Your boyfriend left you unsatisfied again.

Dressing Room #3 was a somber and whiny place after the game, to such an extent that the Ice Marshall was forced to remind the crybabies in the room that it had been at least 4 years since anyone present had suckled at his mother’s or wet nurse’s breast and that they had better get used to facing adversity with a more serene and stoic outlook. The bickering ceased immediately and plans were quickly made for a post-game trip to the Terminal Tavren.

At the team’s favourite watering hole, the customary comraderie was summarily re-established and the egregiously truthful fawning and flaying continued unabated until the team’s new (and hopefully short-lived) 11:30pm curfew. It was decided at the post-game wrap up that Strawbs’ dormant Punitive Measures Act should be revived and applied cruelly and unusually in cases of unexcused absences such as occurred on this night. Had Dr. Thug, Pyjama Man , Gawdawful Gumby, Wanderin’ Warren, Rob “The Torch” and Magnesium Boy had their way, absentees Freight Train 444, Butcher Brophey, Achilles Perron, The Golden Fleece and Whoahorny would have been publicly shot, drawn and quartered and compelled to pay the exhorbitant yet fair $3 NoShow Levy before being allowed to lace them up for the next game. Fortunately for the attendance challenged Strawbs, Ice Marshall Walpole invoked his doublesupersecret veto to quash the ill-advised motion and instead suggested that A535 be surreptitiously applied to no-shows jockstraps prior to the next tilt. The suggestion was accepted and delayed gratification is eagerly awaited.

4 jugs and 12 chicken wings were consumed. A collection was taken up for the A535 and was promptly oversubscribed.

Corrosion Explosion-Oct 30

Blades of Steel Blasted 8-3

Game Report-Oct. 30, 2006

Wanderin’ Warren (WW1) picked a great time to join the Killer Strawberries Hockey Club as the team continued its winning ways with an 8-3 romp over the Blades of Steel. Wanderin’ Warren was placed on the top line alonside a refreshed Vice Ice and the wily Ice Marshall Walpole, so that the rookie coould experience hockey as it was meant to be played: swiftly, hard-nosedly and with just a soupcon of muted malevolence. At the end of the game, WW1, gasping for breath after trying to keep up all evening with his smooth skating mentors, declared “I never expected to be so challenged. The VIM and IMW may be a little soft around the middle but they are pure business on ice. They must have lungs like Beluga whales.” While WW1 may have missed a few biology classes in the past, there was no doubting his hockey perspicacity and acumen. He has been invited back for the team’s next game.

The Strawbs’ defencemen showed flashes on brilliance, some of them occurring during the actual game. Gumby potted an insurance marker with a deadly dipsy doodle dandy, a move he has not used since…well, never. Freight Train 444 repeatedly stymied opponents with his albatross reach and Butcher Brophey, as agreed, remained on the bench most of the night, removing small traces of vital organs from his bludgeon...er.. .hockey stick.

The second line contributed one or two goals of dubious distinction and will certainly have to pull up its collective socks if the Strawberries are to maintain their reputation as respected and feared hockey statesmen. One thing is for sure: no more tequila shooters between shifts for these guys. It may have worked in the past but could lead to nothing but trouble in the future.

Jesse “The Leak” was both outstanding and instanding over the course of the match and made up from his mistakes by promising to buy the first round should he ever join the team at post game debriefings. When queried about the reason for his perfect record of no-shows at the Terminal Tavren (yes, tavren), “The Leak” pointed out that his continued academic success was “dependent upon my strict adherence to proper diet and keeping all aspects of my life in balance”. Dr Thug, ever so helpful, pointed out that a grade point average of 1.2 hardly constituted academic success and that, furthermore, there was more to be learned in the company of the august gentlemen known at the Killer Strawberries than could be learned in 3 lifetimes spent at the feet any Dalai Lama, Teacher of The Year or perhaps God herself. With that gentle rebuke, “The Leak” headed home chastened yet wiser, secure in the knowledge that he had the privilege of playing with one the world’s truly great hockey teams.

At the Terminal Tavren, Dr. Thug’s health and wisdom were toasted, as were the assembled members at closing time.
2 jugs of Guinness, 2 jugs of Keith’s,16 chicken wings and some damn fine philosophy were consumed.

Parsimonious Possum

Game Report

October 26, 2006

Fully aware that it had perfected the Possum Strategy in its two previous ice tilts, the Killer Strawberries, master re-inventors and baiters, last night embarked upon its newly minted “Parsimonious Possum Strategy”, whose major aim was to totally shut down the opposition. The club succeeded in spades by triumphing 9-0 over a team with the mysterious moniker Paydro. While no one was quite certain of either the origin or meaning of the moniker, every Strawb was in partial agreement that it was probably an obscure reference to something vague and possibly uncertain about which none of them knew, or cared to know, a damned thing. “Ignorance is bliss” mused Magnesium Boy, bliss’s poster child and chief spokesperson, at least on this planet. When asked what his unexpected ejaculation was supposed to mean, Magnesium Boy said he didn’t really know but it sure made him feel better just to say it and did anyone have a cigarette he could bum.

Philosophy was not Mag Boy’s only contribution on the evening. He also scored 3 memorable goals that no one could recall, bringing his net total for the year to -2. His on-ice exploits earned him the game’s third star, just behind Jesse “The Leak”, who played like he was under the threat of another demotion. The game’s first star was The Vice Ice, Rob “The Torch” Greenfield who, at game time, was known to be skulking about various hot tubs in the Kemptville region. No one could understand the curious choice until it was pointed out that the game would have been much much closer had the hapless ancient mariner actually laced them up for the match.

While the Strawbs play at the rink was exemplary, Freight Train 444 Laronde committed a very rare error at the Terminal Tavren (yes, tavren). Acting on bad information, shaky assumptions and too little sleep, 444, for the first time in Killer Strawberries history, ordered way too much draft, even by his bacchanalian standards. Despite the incredible consumption efforts of the post-game revelers and promiscuous promises to take taxis home, one jug was almost given away by a delirious Dr. Thug before sanity prevailed and the superfluous libation unintentionally (?) spilled onto the carpet. “I thought Gumby was coming” cried the penitent defenceman. Alas, Gumby did not make the post-game trek, preferring instead to get a good night’s rest in the company of freshly delivered reading material cloaked in plain brown paper. Turns out 444 was both right and wrong.

6 jugs, 7 chicken wings, 1 plate of spicy nachos (and a little off-site pornography) were consumed

Pickled Possum-Oct.23,2006

Game Report

Beer Barons 7, Strawbs -4


If there is anything to the idea of too much perfection, then it must be admitted that the Strawberries were perfectly guilty of epitomizing the concept in last night’s game against the swift skating Beer Barons. The hapless Strawbs, in their quest to assure the avoidance of a berth in the higher of the Canadore intramural hockey leagues, certainly went well beyond what was required to attain their goal. They were whitewashed, slammed, creamed, crushed, beaten and roadkilled into submission in a game that, in retrospect, ought not have been played. The score should have been mailed in and summarily forgotten.

While team management has always been loathe to look for expedient excuses, it did, in this instance of hyper-perfection, succumb to the irresistible temptation to do so, at a post game press conference held at the Aloha Baby Compound in Oahu. No punches were pulled, no rock unturned, no carpet unlifted, no dust bunnies unfound. According to management, who viewed the game via satellite feed in the ElectroGlide Room, the forgettable performance can directly attributable to the following:

1. Achilles Perron’s current wife had unnecessarily yelled at him before the game for forgetting to place the cutlery in an upright position in the dishwasher. Achilles was so upset, he refused to take his usual pre-game medication, a fifth of Cutty Sark.

2. Dr. Thug, fresh from a session with the team’s sport psychiatrist, Trish D’lish, refused to mug either of the two girls on the Beer Barons squad, thus reducing his on ice aggressiveness to that of a disgruntled palace eunuch.

3. Rob “The Torch” Greenfield had, earlier in the afternoon, pulled a muscle in his back while twisting around to pull out a sarsasparilla from the cooler located just behind the driver’s seat of his yacht, The Tail Of Whoa.

4. Pyjama Man had to show up to the game dressed in a pair of his wife’s discarded pantyhose, his wife having had the unmitigated audacity to wash his usual pre-game garb and to then attempt to line-dry said garb in a raging snowstorm, a mere one hour before the game. Wethinks all is not well in Pyjamaland.

5. Magnesium Boy, feeling slightly ill before the match, botched his self-administered appendectomy because he had forgotten to test the potency of his homemade anaesthetic prior to the operation. Needless to say, his on ice performance was adversely affected by his lack of foresight. Not that much is ever expected of him in any event.

6. Jesse "The Leak" developed a temporary latex/rubber allergy, causing him to slam his eyes shut every time a piece of latex/rubber came within the purview of his sensory detection system. Because this occurred so often at last night's game, his eyes were welded shut by the end of the first period. Oddly, enough, his second period was the best we've seen him play all year. Butcher Brophey gallantly offered to slice open his eyelids with his stick, but "The leak" wisely declined the generous offer.

7. Butcher Brophey

On the plus side, Gumby did not play and new addition, Golden Fleece Saint-Pierre, proved to be one of the two bright lights in an otherwise dim arena. Everyone in attendance marvelled at how effortlessly he slipped the surly bonds of Earth and danced the skies on laughter’s silvered wings. Sunward he climbed to join the tumbling mirth, of sunsplit clouds. High flight indeed.

And lastly...the Ice Marshall played so well, one reporter was overheard to say he thought the flawless wingman had, on this night of the Pickled Possum, “put out his hand and touched the face of God”.

0 jugs and some crow were consumed.

Strawberry Possum

Strawberry Possum

Game Report October 19, 2006

It was not lost on The Strawb’s management that the team’s overwhelming victory of Monday last could result in an unrequested slotting into the Canadore NHL, the higher and more vulgar of the College’s intramural leagues. While the Strawbs love a good hockey game, they equally loathe having to toil so hard on the frozen pond that there remains insufficient energy for the proper performance of strenuous post game activities. Consequently, without great fanfare, the team huddled down into its newest game strategy, the Strawberry Possum.

As the Strawbs ripen to a beautiful lusciousness on the inevitable road to imagined glory and comfortable senescence, their opponents remain mired in a post-pubescent storm of overactive hormones. They tend to skate too swiftly, shoot too hard and whine too much about getting beaten by a bunch of “dastardly old men without scruples”, to quote an unnamed source. In a word, Strawbs’ opponents are too competitive, and thus miss out on much of the beauty of a game characterized by the subtle pass, the whisper of a well tuned blade carving the surface of a newly laid veneer of frozen water and the quiet, heroic moan of a stalwart defenceman as he shakes off a courageously engineered but ill-advised shot to the nuts.

Oh no, Constant Reader, the Strawbs are not a team to be suckered into hyper competitiveness. What is sought is more akin to a religious experience on ice, where the mysteries of karmic existence are perfectly in tune with the game itself. The Strawbs’ philosophy has always been “play as hard as you can without really hurting yourself cause we got some socializin’ to do after the game.” With this philosophy in mind, the Strawberries deliberately cobbled together a very good game against Hank’s Ice Men on Thursday night, purposely losing by a score by 7-4. The manufactured loss will allow the team to claim its rightful place in the Canadore OHL, where it will be free to pursue its goals of near-hockey excellence, competitiveness appropriate to the circumstances, and karmic harmony with universe.

One Strawberry did manage to take the new Possum strategy to an unrequired level. Let’s chalk it up to his quixotic quest for perfection or better still, gross stupidity. Yes, you have correctly guessed who it was. The orange-socked defencemen, still reeling from the vapors, thought it would be a good idea, at game’s end, to soften up one of the referees by pointing out that the game would be better served in future if said referee would “engage in intercourse elsewhere”, or words to that effect. The rash suggestion has resulted in the fact that the Strawbs will have to play the next two games without the services of one its top 10 rearguards. The first round next week will be on him.

Oh ya.. The Vice Ice turned 52, but played a lot older on Strawberry Possum Night. He knows the meaning of subtle strategy execution.

3 Jugs, 5 Guinness, 1 Bud, and an uncounted yet deadly number of Tequila shots were consumed. The Vice Ice may have thrown up in the cab on the ride home.

Rust, What Rust?

October 16, 2006-Game Report

Strawbs 9, Aviators 2


In an impressive display of teamwork, legerdemain and artistry, the Strawbs opened the 2006-2007 season with a subtle reminder to all the teams in the league that they continue to be an unignorable global hockey force. The Strawbs lineup from last night must have struck fear in the hearts of the less than nattily attired squad from the Aviation campus. Opponents’ heads were swivelling like Linda Blair in a movie gone bad, as the B line of Pyjama Man, Mag Boy and the septuagenerian Dr. Thug gave the Aviators fits, scoring 6 times, seemingly at will. The A line, centered by the Vice Ice, Rob “The Torch” Greenfield, galloping like a frisky colt between his fleet wingers, Achilles Perron and the indescribable Ice Marshall, played a solid 2 way game, scoring two highlight reel goals and went a combined +121 on the night. The Ice Marshall thought the line was closer to +99, but he is not one to argue with anyone, especially the offficial scorer. When it was pointed out that there was no official scorer, the intrepid team leader simply shrugged, as Atlas did in Ayn Rand’s famous book.

The Strawb’s defence tested out rookie Whoa!horny Richardson by putting him into some very tight situations and the newcomer did not disappoint, scoring on a beautiful Greenfieldesque butterfly lifter from the blue line. 444 Laronde teamed with Gumby and HE (444) could not be faulted for any of the goals against, as he often found himself defending alone, with Gumby fraternizing with the hapless goaler at the other end. Apparently, the latter two share a love of C++ coding and arcane Mott The Hoople minutia.

Butcher Brophey, in what amounted to a rare stroke of genius, had taped the blade of his stick red for the game and thus eluded at least 4 penalties for unauthorized spleenectomy. Jesse “The Leak” was workmanlike and effective between the pipes, but he did complain at game’s end that he had a hard time seeing the puck throught the haze of rust particles emanating from the Butcher’s blades.

Following the game, at the new terminal tavren (yes, tavren), Gumby was effusive in his praise of the team’s efforts and suggested that Jawn Jon Jean, recently relocated to Owen Sound, should be renamed Gawn Gone Gon. A committee was struck to study the proposal at a later date, when someone actually cares to act on a Gumby-initiated opinion.

8 jugs and 7 sad chicken wings were consumed

Ice Marshall Walpole

Pre-Season Report 2006-2007
Killer Strawberries Hockey Club

At the summer meetings of the Killer Strawberries’ Executive at the Aloha Baby Compound in Oaha, the club’s shadowy and morbidly secretive brain trust sought to resolve some major pressing issues which could only be described as massive untreated hangovers from what had been expected to be a promising 2005-2006 season.

To say that the season ended in disappointment is an understatement of the same ilk as “Gumby might benefit from a little therapy” or “Butcher Brophey is a lumbering, slumbering, bumbling sociopath who kicks puppies for fun”. The brain trust spent an exhausting 167.6 hours compiling a list of the ills which plagued last year’s underachievers and requested that the Ice Marshall and the Vice Ice Marshall take immediate steps to remedy those ills. While taking frequent breaks from escorting the Olsen twins, Pamela Anderson, Angelina and Paris Hilton to various red carpet/shag carpet events in Oahu, this intrepid duo once again created a sustainable, transparent, accountability-laden, outside the box blueprint for change.

Below, is an unofficial excerpt from the report filed with the brain trust. The full, official report will be released as soon as President Stephen Harper declassifies the document and removes his head from W’s ass.

Hangover #1

Lack of scoring from the B line (B as in Bungling and Bloated)

Remedies

Send Pyjama Man to the Ray Charles Net Recognition Remediation School for the month of October.
Wean Dr. Thug off his daily dose of Viagra, which, instead of increasing his touch around the “net”, tends to keep his shaft a little too stiff in scoring situations.


Advise Jean Jon Jawn that his services would better be suited to a team where any shooting inaccuracy is seen as an excusable flaw. We hear the Leafs are looking to replace Tie Domi.

Hangover #2

A defence so clueless, they believe that the word “gullible” has been removed from the dictionary.

Remedies

Return Smokie Hill, the human cigarette, to the Nasty Cupcakes, the Strawb’s farm team’s farm team, recently relocated to Buttface, Alaska, in an effort to stay one step ahead of the law.

Duck tape Butcher Brophey’s arms to his sides so that opponents do not become surprised organ donors any time they find themselves in a foreign corner of the rink. The move is expected to cut down the team’s total penalty time by 94%.


Advise Gumby that game night has been changed to every other Sunday, in Bonfield.

Move Freight Train 444 Laronde to a new position which leverages his major strengths…frying pickerel and buying draft. He has been promoted to the position of entertainment coordinator.

Hangover #3

Magnesium Boy

Remedy

Since no centre or winger or defence partner can be found to offset Magnesium Boy, he will be left to play with himself.

Hangovers #4, #5, #6

Remedy

Put Magnesium Boy and Jesse the Leak between the pipes, simultaneously. This move has numerous advantages. Blame can be sloughed off to the other guy. The net will be stuffed with the equivalent of 95% of the BMI of a Butcher Brophey, at his peak summer form, leaving very little for the opposition in terms of scoring openings. Moreover, Magnesium Boy will get to repeat, ad nauseum, his “Carl Sagan Invented The Universe” story to someone who can’t easily run away.

Hangover #7

The Strawbs have developed a reputation as a drinking team with a hockey problem.

Remedy

More post game Guinesses to brainstorm solutions to this nagging problem.

Hangover #8

Early retirements in 2006

Remedy

With the forced early retirements/reassignments of Smokie Hill, Rusty Vik Erickson, Jean Jon Jawn and The Love Glove, the Strawbs have been presented with an unprecedented opportunity to strengthen the team with new additions. Unfortunately, it appears that the unfathomable remedy imposed by the brain trust (not to be confused with the Ice Marshall or the Vice Ice) may backfire. On the dubious advice of some of the permanent and shady guests at the Aloha Baby Compound, the team , in October, signed unknown quantities Whoa!horny Richardson and Jason “The Golden Fleece” St. Pierre as well as the recently rehabbed and revived Achilles Perron, whose glory days, if he ever had any, are probably behind him (along with the extra 40 pounds he is carrying). Ah, but the boy can drink his share!

The Bright Spots

Rob “The Torch Greenfield, Vice Ice Marshall and bon vivant extraordinaire, who recently set a Guinness Book record by spending the entire May to August period on full Code Orange Liver Alert, without spillin a drop or burning any holes in guitar.

Ice Marshall Walpole, the Strawb’s spiritual guide and conscience of moderation, who found God on the off season, disguised as a permanent guest of Aloha Baby Compound.

There's an important "emergency" Killer Strawberries meeting Thursday night, 7pm, at the usual watering hole, The Bull & Quench. Much to discuss and plan, Be There!
V.I.M.