Thursday, 2 July 2009

Of all the girls, in all the bars, in all the world... he has to hit on me???

You're drinking beers with friends,
laughing your ass off trying to forget that Ray Shero hasn't signed Scuderi yet.
(WHAT IS STOPPING HIM???)
You go up to the bar to order another pitcher of Keith's.

That's when it happens.
Someone slips their arm around your waist.
You are nowhere where you expect such a thing.
You do not know anyone in this town well enough for them to do that.

"You look like you need a drink," a voice says in your ear.
Fuck yes, I need a drink, you think.
It's NHL Free Agency, I need about a dozen of them, please and thank you.
As he leans forward to order you one, you turn to face him.
And you BALK.
You are speechless.

(credit for this creative masterpiece goes out to WrapAroundCurl)


Oh, of all the girls, in all the bars, in all the world... he had to hit on YOU.
You aren't sure how you didn't recognize that voice...
You aren't sure whether to laugh or cry at the irony of the situation.
Then you realize that choice has been made for you: you are already laughing your ass off.

The music changes to a song you love.
Dance Floor Anthem.
That's Mike Green's song. Why is it playing NOW, of all times?
Suddenly, people are here who shouldn't be.
People you keep WISHING were here, but can't be for a very long list of practical reasons.
People who are in Pennsylvania, for the most part.
People who would know to stop you from doing and saying what you are about to do and say.
Mostly because they know that no good can come of it.
That's when you realize you're dreaming... you have to be.
Which means you can SAY ANYTHING.
(Cue John Cussack and his faboo ghetto blaster outside your bedroom window...)

Suddenly, you can't think fast enough. There are too many things to say.
Some of them could get you arrested. Some of them could get you sucker punched.
Some of them could get you laid.

You wonder if it's even worth mentioning how, until June 8th, he was your favourite player
(aside from Mario Lemieux) or how you stood up for him in 2003 when everyone else was calling him a fucking murderer. Or how you've defended him ever since.
You understand that he wants to win.
You understand that he wants more ice time than Cory Clouston was giving him.
Then something occurs to you.

"Did you honestly tell Murray that you and Clouston had 'philosophical' differences???"

And you wake up.

4 comments:

Stephanie B said...

Mer, I am so sorry for the loss of Scuderi. I am in such mourning. I am also sorry for being wrong last night when I was so confident he would sign with the Pens.
I cannot believe he is going to LA. I think it will be a huge change for him. Do they even know what hockey is down there??

Jess said...

When I want to ruuuuuuuuuuun away, I drive off in my car.

In your eyes,
The light the heat,
In your eyes,
I am complete,
In your eyes

Sigh. The late eighties/early nineties.

And a childhood ruined by Peter Fucking Gabriel.

Val said...

...you mean it was a dream! NNNOOOOOOOO!!!!!

:)

Clare said...

This made me laugh so thank you! I can't believe the mess Heatley has put everyone through.