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Recap

Holy fuck, boys, did you catch that clusterfuck of a game last night? The Nashville Predators absolutely destroyed the St. Louis Blues, 5-2. It was like watchin’ a drunk Lahey try to walk a straight line—pure chaos. Ricky: Alright, so the Predators came out swingin’ like me when someone tries to take my smokes. They scored in every fuckin’ period. Their goalie, Sore-kitten, was a fuckin’ brick wall. Let in only two goals outta 16 shots. Reminds me of that time in jail when I played goalie with nothing but a pair of flip-flops and a laundry basket. I was blockin’ shots like I was dodgin’ the guards during a contraband search. Bubbles: Ricky, it’s Sorokin, not “Sore-kitten.” But yeah, he was solid. Kept those Blues from doin’ much. xshepxrd and NE0N X 8 were lightin’ it up. Two goals each. Like my kitties when they see a laser pointer—just relentless. Julian: Yeah, Rick, Nashville was playin’ like they had rockets up their asses. xshepxrd, xRoyalFlushx911, and Soloxdolox were on fire. RoyalFlush was dishin’ out assists like I dish out scams to make a quick buck. And L stale L? Four assists, like he’s dealin’ cards at a poker game. These guys were hittin’ and grindin’ harder than Randy on a cheeseburger binge. Bubbles: yeah Julian, you’re right. But St. Louis was just a mess. SA_Pliskin and Sergein were tryin’, but it was like watchin’ Julian try to keep Ricky from fuckin’ up—impossible. They got their two goals, but their defense was sloppier than a drunk Ricky tryin’ to do math. Ricky: Bubs, I can do math. Fuck, it’s just that I choose not to, alright? Anyway, that Blues goalie, JonTurner15-, he was like a deer caught in the headlights of a Mack truck. Couldn’t stop a beach ball if it rolled up and hit him in the dick.. Five goals on 18 shots? And their defense, ThaFoSix and WeTheWho, were about as useful as a screen door on a submarine. Minus three for the game. It was pathotic! Julian: Exactly, Rick. Blues’ defense was as sturdy as a cardboard fort in a hurricane. WeTheWho and ThaFoSix were floppier than a wet noodle in a hot tub. They had more giveaways than Ricky at a grammar competition. Minus three each. It’s like they were playin’ with their brains in reverse. Bubbles: Julian, instead of a hockey clinic, why don’t we start a “Hockey Brawlin’ School”? Teach people how to throw punches on the ice. Charge ‘em good money for lessons. Ricky can show ’em his “Ricky Uppercut,” you can teach strategy, and I’ll maybe introduce them to the Green Bastard. Maybe sell some kitty-themed hockey gloves on the side. Ricky: Bubs, that’s fuckin’ brilliant. “Trailer Park Hockey Brawlin’ School: Learn to Fight Like a Pro.” We’ll make a killin’. Plus, I’ll teach ‘em the “Lahey Slam,” where you pretend to fall, then take out the other guy’s legs. Works every time. Julian: That’s a solid plan, Bubs. We can make some serious cash. Maybe even enough to get our dope business going again. Bubbles: Sounds good, boys. Just gotta make sure the kitties are all inside before we go. Don’t want them getting scooped up by no god damn samsquanch.