Post by Roy Vezina on Oct 16, 2024 13:04:53 GMT
The Punch Line locker room is buzzing with its usual chaotic energy as Harv Norris and Rick Hull lounge around. Harv, still in his ridiculous Canadian flag socks, flips through a sports magazine, while Rick leans against the lockers, absentmindedly tossing a hockey puck up and down in his hand.
Harv Norris: (in his thick Newfoundland accent) “B’y, ya ever think maybe I coulda been a Zamboni driver? Easy gig, y’know. Just skate around real slow-like, eh? Smooth out the ice, no hits to the head… perfect retirement plan.”
Rick Hull: (snorting) “Yeah, well, I think they’d still find a way to boo ya off the ice, Harv.”
Just as Harv is about to retort, the locker room door bursts open and in struts Roy Vezina, looking smug as ever, dressed in his usual flashy gear but with an even bigger swagger in his step. He throws open his arms with a grin.
Roy Vezina: “Boys! It’s the most wonderful time of the year—hockey season! And you know what that means… new blood for the Punch Line!”
Harv and Rick exchange puzzled glances.
Harv Norris: “New blood? What, did we lose someone, b’y?”
Rick Hull: “Pretty sure we didn’t have any ‘players’ to begin with, Roy.”
Roy ignores their confusion, a mischievous grin plastered on his face as he sticks his head into the hall.
Roy Vezina: “C’mon in, kid! Show ‘em what you got!”
In walks Puck, a mini wrestler dressed head to toe in hockey gear, complete with a helmet that looks a few sizes too big for him. He struts in confidently, slapping his gloves together, clearly brimming with attitude. Harv immediately furrows his brow in confusion.
Harv Norris: (leaning forward, squinting) “Is… is he one of those Make A Wish kids? We had one o’ them in here a few months ago, right?”
Rick facepalms and starts to correct him.
Rick Hull: “No, Harv, he’s—”
Puck: (cutting in, snappily) “Who you callin’ a Make A Wish kid, eh? I’m Puck! And I’ll make a wish alright – that you keep yer head down when I’m chirpin’, big man.”
Harv and Rick are taken aback, their mouths slightly agape at Puck’s bold attitude. Roy chuckles from the side, clearly enjoying the chaos he’s stirring up.
Roy Vezina: “See, boys? Every team needs a puck, and here’s ours! Small, fast, full of bite!”
Rick opens his mouth to retort, but Harv pipes up first.
Harv Norris: “Well, I’ll be damned, he’s got a mouth on him, eh? Ain’t seen a puck chirp back like that since ol’ Game 7.”
Just as Rick is about to fire back, Roy interrupts.
Roy Vezina: “Hold your horses, boys, because that’s not all. Every team needs a goaltender. And I’ve got ours right here.” (Roy sticks his head back into the hall and calls out, waving his arm.) “Blue Thunder! Get in here, big man!”
An awkward moment of silence passes as no one enters. Roy glances back with a slightly embarrassed grin, then disappears into the hall. A few moments later, he reemerges leading a towering, broad-shouldered man clad in blue and black hockey gear. His presence alone commands attention. Rick and Harv can’t help but be impressed.
Rick Hull: “Whoa, look at the size of this guy.”
Harv Norris: “B’y, I wouldn’t wanna be the one tryin’ to get a puck past this lad.”
Roy stands proudly beside Blue Thunder, patting him on the shoulder.
Roy Vezina: “Boys, meet Blue Thunder. My ‘tendy.’”
Rick Hull: “Blue Thunder, huh? What’s the story behind the name?”
Roy Vezina: (clearing his throat awkwardly) “Well, you see, there’s a bit of a… language barrier. Blue Thunder here only speaks French, comes straight from Montreal.” (Roy lowers his voice as if it’s a big secret) “I think it’s something about the blue crease, you know, goalie talk. But honestly, I’m not too sure.”
Blue Thunder, standing stoically, gives a slight nod, but remains silent. Rick and Harv exchange unsure glances as they try to figure it out.
Harv Norris: (scratching his head) “Blue crease, eh? Well, as long as he keeps pucks outta the net, I guess it don’t matter.”
Just as they’re mulling it over, Puck, still full of energy, pipes up with a smirk.
Puck: “Maybe we can use that blue crease to hide Hully’s mom, huh? I hear she’s real good at squeezin’ into tight spaces!”
Rick freezes, his face turning red in anger, while Harv quickly steps in to hold him back.
Harv Norris: (trying to defuse the situation) “Whoa, whoa, b’y! Easy now! You can’t hit a kid! Even if he’s askin’ for it!”
Roy, watching the scene unfold with a chuckle, claps his hands together, beaming with pride.
Roy Vezina: “See, boys? The Punch Line is stronger than ever! We’ve got a puck, we’ve got a goalie, and we’ve got the best damn team in Pollo Road! This is a winning combination if I ever saw one!”
As Harv struggles to keep Rick from lunging at Puck, Roy grins, pleased with his “handy work” as he calls it, while Blue Thunder stands silently, just hanging out in the background like a silent mountain.
Harv Norris: (in his thick Newfoundland accent) “B’y, ya ever think maybe I coulda been a Zamboni driver? Easy gig, y’know. Just skate around real slow-like, eh? Smooth out the ice, no hits to the head… perfect retirement plan.”
Rick Hull: (snorting) “Yeah, well, I think they’d still find a way to boo ya off the ice, Harv.”
Just as Harv is about to retort, the locker room door bursts open and in struts Roy Vezina, looking smug as ever, dressed in his usual flashy gear but with an even bigger swagger in his step. He throws open his arms with a grin.
Roy Vezina: “Boys! It’s the most wonderful time of the year—hockey season! And you know what that means… new blood for the Punch Line!”
Harv and Rick exchange puzzled glances.
Harv Norris: “New blood? What, did we lose someone, b’y?”
Rick Hull: “Pretty sure we didn’t have any ‘players’ to begin with, Roy.”
Roy ignores their confusion, a mischievous grin plastered on his face as he sticks his head into the hall.
Roy Vezina: “C’mon in, kid! Show ‘em what you got!”
In walks Puck, a mini wrestler dressed head to toe in hockey gear, complete with a helmet that looks a few sizes too big for him. He struts in confidently, slapping his gloves together, clearly brimming with attitude. Harv immediately furrows his brow in confusion.
Harv Norris: (leaning forward, squinting) “Is… is he one of those Make A Wish kids? We had one o’ them in here a few months ago, right?”
Rick facepalms and starts to correct him.
Rick Hull: “No, Harv, he’s—”
Puck: (cutting in, snappily) “Who you callin’ a Make A Wish kid, eh? I’m Puck! And I’ll make a wish alright – that you keep yer head down when I’m chirpin’, big man.”
Harv and Rick are taken aback, their mouths slightly agape at Puck’s bold attitude. Roy chuckles from the side, clearly enjoying the chaos he’s stirring up.
Roy Vezina: “See, boys? Every team needs a puck, and here’s ours! Small, fast, full of bite!”
Rick opens his mouth to retort, but Harv pipes up first.
Harv Norris: “Well, I’ll be damned, he’s got a mouth on him, eh? Ain’t seen a puck chirp back like that since ol’ Game 7.”
Just as Rick is about to fire back, Roy interrupts.
Roy Vezina: “Hold your horses, boys, because that’s not all. Every team needs a goaltender. And I’ve got ours right here.” (Roy sticks his head back into the hall and calls out, waving his arm.) “Blue Thunder! Get in here, big man!”
An awkward moment of silence passes as no one enters. Roy glances back with a slightly embarrassed grin, then disappears into the hall. A few moments later, he reemerges leading a towering, broad-shouldered man clad in blue and black hockey gear. His presence alone commands attention. Rick and Harv can’t help but be impressed.
Rick Hull: “Whoa, look at the size of this guy.”
Harv Norris: “B’y, I wouldn’t wanna be the one tryin’ to get a puck past this lad.”
Roy stands proudly beside Blue Thunder, patting him on the shoulder.
Roy Vezina: “Boys, meet Blue Thunder. My ‘tendy.’”
Rick Hull: “Blue Thunder, huh? What’s the story behind the name?”
Roy Vezina: (clearing his throat awkwardly) “Well, you see, there’s a bit of a… language barrier. Blue Thunder here only speaks French, comes straight from Montreal.” (Roy lowers his voice as if it’s a big secret) “I think it’s something about the blue crease, you know, goalie talk. But honestly, I’m not too sure.”
Blue Thunder, standing stoically, gives a slight nod, but remains silent. Rick and Harv exchange unsure glances as they try to figure it out.
Harv Norris: (scratching his head) “Blue crease, eh? Well, as long as he keeps pucks outta the net, I guess it don’t matter.”
Just as they’re mulling it over, Puck, still full of energy, pipes up with a smirk.
Puck: “Maybe we can use that blue crease to hide Hully’s mom, huh? I hear she’s real good at squeezin’ into tight spaces!”
Rick freezes, his face turning red in anger, while Harv quickly steps in to hold him back.
Harv Norris: (trying to defuse the situation) “Whoa, whoa, b’y! Easy now! You can’t hit a kid! Even if he’s askin’ for it!”
Roy, watching the scene unfold with a chuckle, claps his hands together, beaming with pride.
Roy Vezina: “See, boys? The Punch Line is stronger than ever! We’ve got a puck, we’ve got a goalie, and we’ve got the best damn team in Pollo Road! This is a winning combination if I ever saw one!”
As Harv struggles to keep Rick from lunging at Puck, Roy grins, pleased with his “handy work” as he calls it, while Blue Thunder stands silently, just hanging out in the background like a silent mountain.