Wednesday, May 02, 2007
Scene: Little Johnny Edmonton, a fresh faced innocent lad, sits in his bedroom, looking at his Oilers' hockey cards. A Ryan Smyth poster is on his wall. Cal Nichols, Pat LaForge and Joffrey Lupul enter.
LaForge - Hey, Johnny, how about giving us some money for that swell new arena we're going to build downtown?
Johnny - Uh, aren't you guys a bunch of rich dudes? Shouldn't you be able to finance this without public money?
Chorus: ECONOMIC SPINOFFS! REVITALIZE THE DOWNTOWN! NO MORE DRUG USING HOBO TERRORISTS!
Johnny - Who the fuck are all these guys?
LaForge - Oh, that's the Edmonton media. So, what about the money?
Nichols stubs out his cigar on Johnny's goldfish.
Johnny - I think it has been proven that there is no real economic benefit from building an arena. I'm pretty sure there have been studies that have proven this.
Chorus: PROVINCIAL THINKING! SMALLTOWN HICK! REJECTING THE FUTURE!
Nichols - Listen, you little fucker. Don't make me get angry. Pony up or the Oilers are history. I'm taking this gig to Houston. Without a new arena we're fucked.
Johnny - Weren't you guys in the top ten revenues this past season. The numbers don't jibe.
Chorus: NEW MATH! ALL HAIL EIG! DON'T QUESTION THEM!
Johnny - I don't know - I just think the money could go to a whole lot of better enterprises then this. And it all seems a little sudden. All of a sudden we need an arena? And you guys have stacked the odds in your favour.
Chorus: ARE YOU SOME SORT OF COMMUNIST?
Nichols - You goddam hippy. Alright Lupul, teach him a lesson.
Lupul unbuckles his pants while LaForge and Nichols grab Johnny.
LaForge - Trust me kid, this won't hurt a bit. As a matter of fact, you're going to love it.
Lupul pulls down Johnny's pants, revealing boxers with Ethan Moreau's toothless yet sexy visage.
Lupul - Chopper! (gasps)
LaForge - If that doesn't get him going, I don't know what will. I'm carrying wood myself all of a sudden.
Nichols - Let's go Lupul, take a trip up that old dirt road.
A handsome man walks in.
Chorus : SMYTTY!
He is followed by Ethan Moreau, Jason Smith, Steve Staios, San Fernando, Shawn Horcoff and Stan Weir.
Nichols - What the fuck?
Smyth - Unhand him, you knaves! (Slaps Nichols, knocking him to the ground.)
Moreau - Get out of here Lupul, you big fucking pussy, or I'll snap your spine.
A sobbing Lupul tries to exit but Stan Weir grabs him and breaks him in two.
Chorus: ALL HE NEEDED WAS A FIRST LINE CENTRE!
Smith, Moreau, Staios and Weir go all 300 on the chorus. The bloodshed is gory, needlessly over the top and very pleasureable.
LaForge - Now guys, come on, without us, there are no Edmonton Oilers.
Horcoff - Wrong again! Dr. Smyth invented a machine that bends time. We all travelled back in time and through investments in IBM and Microsoft as well as betting on innumerable longshots we are all multi billionaires. We bought the Oilers from Pocklington before he traded Gretzky. We own the Edmonton Oilers!
LaForge - But Smyth is a dummy.
Dr. Smyth - Actually it was quite simple - mostly physics. Let me explain.
Merry Men: BORING!
Dr. Smyth : Sorry. Anyhow, we own the Oilers. You guys are just a couple of putzes. Your little scam is over.
Johnny: You mean, you were never traded?
Dr. Smyth: That's right Johnny. Now put on your pants.
LaForge - So, what does that mean to us?
Stan Weir - Well, you're the ones who are fucked now.
Suddenly San Fernando once again reveals the brilliance seen only once, in the spring of 2006, when he impregnated Andy Grabia and almost carried the Oilers to the Cup. LaForge and Nichols are reduced to ash.
Dr. Smyth - Ok lads, so first we have to go to that cocktail party where Prongs met that dentist's daughter. We'll take care of that and then back to Game 7 - I'm going to score meself a hattrick!
Moreau - What about Simpson?
Dr. Smyth - Don't you worry, I've got something special planned for that clown.
Come back next week for another episode of Dr. Smyth and His Merry Men when Dr. Smyth must race against time to save Patrick Thoresen, who is being held captive by a bunch of hillbillies led by Dion Phaneuf.
Posted by Black Dog at 3:37 PM