Holy fuck, boys, did you see that game last night? The Detroit Red Wings fin’ demolished the Florida Panthers, 8-1. It was like watchin’ Randy tryin’ to play ice hockey—just a big, greasy mess.
Ricky:
Alright, so the Red Wings come out swingin’ like me at the liquor store. Four goals in the first period, four in the second. That goalie Pandarin or whatever, he was like a brick shit house—let in only one goal outta five shots. Reminds me of my ball hockey team in jail. We had a goalie named “Concrete,” ’cause he was tough as fuck and could stop anything. Same deal here, boys.
Bubbles:
Ricky, it’s Panarin, not “Panda-rin,” and it’s not “Concrete,” it’s “Concrete Charlie.” Get it right, bud. But yeah, the Wings were hot as a fresh litter of kittens, bud. They were on fire.
Julian:
Yeah, Ricky, it was a total beatdown. Those forwards—xBeanZy-, TokeNxsty, and BejimoSzn—were like a fuckin’ machine. Combined, they had 15 points. They could score on Lahey, and he’s blackout drunk half the time. TokeNxsty had 7 hits, playin’ like he’s tryin’ to knock the shit out of Randy for eatin’ all the cheeseburgers.
Bubbles:
Jules, you’re right. The Red Wings were smooth and ruthless, like a pack of alley cats on a fish truck. That uStooPiiD guy, funny name but he had four fuckin’ assists. He was passin’ the puck like I pass out cat food on a rainy day. Florida’s defense was floppin’ around like a drunk kitty in a storm.
Ricky:
Bubs, it’s YourStooPiiD, not “Stupid.” Get your facts straight, bud. But yeah, the Panthers were fuckin’ useless. That goalie Bray4x_Fyb, poor bastard, he had a rough night. Eight goals on seventeen shots? He couldn’t stop a beach ball in a wind tunnel. And their forwards, Popeskill and Jockurrr, were about as useful as a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest.
Julian:
Exactly, Rick. Panthers’ defense was a joke. Alpha-33x and GUTLESS-I53I? More like Clueless and Gutless. Minus seven for the game. Fuckin’ embarrassing. It’s like they were playin’ with their heads up their asses. Hey, boys, I got an idea. We should start a hockey training camp for losers like the Panthers. We can teach ’em the basics, charge a ton of money, and make a fortune. Whaddya think?
Bubbles:
Julian, are you nuts? We’re gonna get ourselves into more trouble than Ricky at a free drink night at the Legion. Plus, Ricky can’t even spell “hockey,” let alone teach it. We should stick to what we know, like recycling and kitties.
Ricky:
C’mon, Bubs, I can spell “hockey.” H-O-K-E-Y. See? Fuckin’ nailed it. And Julian’s right, we could make some serious cash. Maybe even get a new trailer outta it. Besides, we’ll just tell ’em to shoot the puck and hit hard, like they’re smackin’ Randy’s greasy gut.
Bubbles:
Rick, it’s H-O-C-K-E-Y, not “Hokey.” Jesus, Murphy. And no, Julian, this is a bad idea. We don’t need to end up in jail again. Let’s just enjoy the game for what it was—a total fuckin’ beatdown. Leave the schemin’ to someone else.
Julian:
Alright, Bubs, maybe you’re right. But we gotta find a way to capitalize on this somehow. There’s money to be made in hockey, boys. We just need to find the right angle.
Ricky:
You said it, Julian. We’ll figure something out. But for now, let’s just celebrate the fact that the Red Wings kicked ass, the Panthers sucked, and if anyone says different, they can fuck right off. It was like watchin’ a train wreck, and I fuckin’ loved it. Just goes to show, sometimes you’re the Ricky, and sometimes you’re the Randy.
Julian:
Right on, Rick. Let’s get a drink, celebrate this shit show, and maybe even teach these Panthers how to play some real fin’ hockey.
Bubbles:
Sounds good, boys. Just gotta make sure the kitties are fed first. Priorities, ya know?
And that’s the fuckin’ breakdown, boys and girls. Stay greasy!
Holy fuck, boys, did you see that shitshow of a game last night? The Pittsburgh Penguins somehow pulled off a win against the Chicago Blackhawks, 2-1. It was like watchin’ Randy try to quit cheeseburgers—painful and surprising all at once.
Ricky:
Alright, so the Penguins started off slower than Lahey sober. No goals in the first two periods, but then they pulled their heads outta their asses and scored two in the third. That goalie, Froncy or whatever, he was like a steel trap—only let in one goal outta 16 shots. Reminds me of the time I tried to play goalie with a broken mop and a garbage can lid. Same results, boys, only less garbage.
Bubbles:
Ricky, it’s XFrxncey, not “Froncy.” And yeah, he did good, but it’s all about teamwork. Cuban1616 and vVxsion were solid on defense, bud. Even had some nice passes, like I do with my kitties’ toys. Kept the Blackhawks from goin’ crazy.
Julian:
Yeah, Rick, the Penguins got their act together just in time. Those forwards—levachkin, Morrow_2867, and S-U-D-Z-Y—finally woke up. levachkin and S-U-D-Z-Y with those goals, like a couple of rock stars. They were hittin’ and grindin’ like we do on a Saturday night at the bar. And Morrow, even without points, was hustlin’ like he’s tryin’ to sell dope to buy a new car.
Bubbles:
Julian, you got it. But Chicago wasn’t sleepin’ either. Hughsy28- and John_Dean_16 were pushin’ hard. Hughsy had an assist and John even managed to score, but it wasn’t enough. They were tryin’ harder than Ricky at his grade 10 math exam, but still flunked.
Ricky:
Bubs, it’s grade 12 math, not grade 10. Jesus, Murphy. Anyway, the Blackhawks’ goalie, Fedorov91x, he was like a one-legged cat tryin’ to bury a turd on a frozen pond. Let in two goals on eight shots. Not great, but his defense left him hangin’ like Lahey on a bender.
Julian:
Exactly, Rick. Chicago’s defense was a mess. Semple19 and reimatttack34 were tryin’, but it was like watchin’ Cory and Trevor try to run a scam—total disaster. They were -1 for the game, which is like gettin’ caught stealin’ chicken fingers from the grocery store.
Bubbles:
Julian, we don’t need to be runnin’ more scams. We’re lucky we’re not in jail right now. But hey, I got an idea. Why don’t we open a hockey clinic, teachin’ kids how not to play like the Blackhawks? We can charge a fee and make some money. Ricky can show ’em how to shoot, Julian can teach ’em how to hustle, and I’ll take care of the details.
Ricky:
Bubs, you’re onto something. We could call it “Trailer Park Hockey Skills.” Show ’em how to play like pros and drink like champs. I’ll teach ‘em my special move, “The Lahey Leap,” where you dive face-first into the boards to get the puck.
Julian:
That’s a solid plan, Bubs. We can make some serious cash. Maybe even enough to get a new roof for the trailer and a few cases of rum. Just gotta keep Randy out of it, or he’ll eat all the profits.
Bubbles:
Alright, boys, let’s do it. But first, let’s celebrate the fact that the Penguins pulled off a win, the Blackhawks sucked, and if anyone says different, they can fuck right off. It was like watchin’ a cat fight in a dryer, and I fuckin’ loved it.
Julian:
Right on, Rick. Let’s get a drink, let’s go to the rippers to celebrate, and start planning our hockey clinic.
Bubbles:
Sounds good, boys. think margaret will be there?
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.