Wednesday, January 28, 2009


SOMEWHERE - So the Canadiens haven't been doing so well lately. You might have noticed. Another thing you might have noticed is that despite the play of the overall team, one player stands above the rest; insisting to play at 110%. A monster, you might say (if that is something you typically say).

Maxime Lapierre has played extremely well all year. But where did that come from? Well, yours truly found the answer to that question several months ago as the season began. I have held the secret for long enough. To be truly free, I must exercise it to you, the public.

So you likely assumed, as I assumed, that Lapierre and the other Canadiens players simply went back to their hotels after games to read passages from The Bible to little orphan children.

Well, YOU were wrong...

When I found that this was not the case, I felt as though my innocence had been stolen from me like a child learning that Santa is A LIE! Well, that night, Lapierre showed his true colors... And I for one could never again cheer for him the way I'd cheered for other players in the past...

I could only cheer MORE!

As I followed him deep into the night, I saw him enter some Saloon. After much negotiating (and several hours) with the bouncer, I too entered the pub. What I found was that the patrons of the speakeasy had been putting the witching hour to good use. They'd imbibed heavily, and any one of those fellas'd tell you the whole wingding'd gone like eggs in coffee. Unfortunately, just as I entered, everyone had reached an agreement: it was about time to relocate this hootenanny to some sleazy brothel.

But before exiting the fine establishment, I searched out Lapierre and found him demanding a nightcap before leaving. He slurred some instruction to the barkeep that he'd like whatever's "in that bottle over there." The barkeep ventured that perhaps Lapierre had had enough, but Maxime assured him of the contrary with a redfaced rebuttal.

Of course, Lapierre was delighted that the hootenanny continued into the night with all these new faces on top of this peculiar flat surface, whatever it is (I call it "ground"). He slured drunken tidings of merriment to this effect, remarking how he was "jush so happy to shee all these wunnerful pee-hic-pull..." Then I saw him take his celebratory swig...

He has never been the same again...

You and I will never know what was in that bottle that transformed him thusly. All I know for sure is: we need more.

More updates as events warrant.

1 comment:

habsbloggergirl said...

Lapierre is force!

Keep the stories coming!