Last night started with a locker room gathering so dull and unmotivated, it would have made a Brokeback Mountain campfire seem gay and merry (oh wait..). In the absence of key team leaders Sattora-San, diddle (he’s too modest to have his name capitalized), and T-Brown, the embattled and half-asleep Weevil Nation let in 3 goals faster than bMoore can reproduce knuckle children. 17:00 minutes left to go in the first and it was already 3-0 for the HGs in pearl/off-white jerseys and the pink piglet logos. I wasn’t sure what was worse: losing the game on the scoreboard, or losing it in style points.

As the game wore on, anyone in attendance (translation: if anyone was actually there) would have been witness to some of the hardest accomplishments on the ice. In a barrage of 15 shots in a minute (4 of which actually hit the net), Yao tested the four corners of the goal to no avail, demonstrating again why he is all Swedish and no Finnish. Skatch stayed true to his Italian roots by playing defense like a pasta strainer. And Yao also contributed to the defense by playing like a human pylon. It took a man with a broken foot to give us our lone goal. We all heard the call from the bench: “Off the back boards, off the defensemen’s helmet, roll down the right arm, angle off the stick blade, through the goalie’s 5-hole, nothing but net.” It was a shot that would have trivialized Jordan and Bird in the commercials of old. Mich did everything she could to keep this game close with no help from us whatsoever. Blinco Pigs 5, Gabadouches 1

The mood in the dressing room was somber. Mich and Ved rushed off before getting suckered into a post-game depression binge. So did Pinet, choosing instead to produce some knuckle children of his own at home. Myze struggled to take the jersey off his Herculian body (translation: penalty minutes leader amassed 73 more and mathematically clinched the season title with 7 more games to go). Uni peer-pushed his car keys on anyone who would take them, opting to let others drown their sorrows with his beer while he showered.

With the whiff of knuckle children in the air, the Weevil Nation should have been alive and strong for the post-game tailgate. Thanks to Uni and his eclectic 7/11 mix of beer, we all gathered for the banter and chatter one sees at a softball game for the deaf and mute. The ice broken, stupidities ensued and bMoore starts showcasing his cougar hunting skills (picture proof…well done). Wishing to show us his predatorial skills, he beckons on an innocent neighborhood watch pedestrian. She approaches towards us stage right. She is in character; unfortunately, the character was a strung out and crackhead whoooooore. She mutters words only Gollum would understand. Her speech suggests to me that hukt on fonix wurkt for her at one time. It all made sense: she was a gypsy, and she was looking for bMoore’s “little precious.” She was patrolling the lands on foot, seeking new places (e.g. Claytonville). Broke and destitute with broken nails, she tells us of her sad and epic saga: her mother hit a 60-pound buck (note to typeset editor: it should indeed read 60, not 600). Uni offers up the explanation her mother may have hit a border collie instead. But crack took over, and led the conversations down paths Yao still could not comprehend at the end of his 2-1/2 hour journey back home. Oh! It was like an M. Night Shyamalan movie: remember when she said she was headed to some guy’s place to help take care of his kid (at 1:30am) because his girlfriend left him? Maybe she was the girlfriend. Oh, snap.
In any case, she wandered into the abyss of “The Village” and we all agreed: bMoore’s cougar hunting license should be revoked. Skatch is going to call a guy who’s going to call a guy who knows a guy who will call a guy in New Joysey who will make it happen. Gigigigigigidoo. Out.