Monday, October 18, 2010

The Danny Cleary Gravity Rule

The Danny Cleary Gravity Rule - A phenomenon in which the act of goal scoring creates a gravity surge which exerts itself mostly on Red Wing forward, Danny Cleary. The presence of a horizontal Cleary can be used to reliably prove that a goal has occurred and proves to be a much more consistent method than phone calls to Toronto.



Poor Danny. Apparently only one person wants to interview him about his goal. I guess everyone else is covering the sock hockey game. Also I adjusted the pictures as much as I knew how, but they're still clearer if you click on them.

Monday, August 30, 2010

Summer Lovin'

This is inexcusably late given how long ago this deal took place, but here is the Tru Fax nod to the Modano signing and Kenny's struggle to land him ;P

Summer Lovin'

Kenny Holland is standing in his red bathrobe, frantically searching through his closet. He’s flinging clothes left and right apparently not finding what he’s looking for.

KH: No. No. No, no, no. Argh! I don’t have anything to wear!

Giving up, Kenny starts rifling through the clothes on his bed until he finds his cell phone. He hits speed dial. KH: Come over here. Right now! This is an emergency!

In a few minutes, Mike Babcock squeals into the driveway. He bursts into his friend’s room, Death Glare drawn and ready, prepared to vanquish evil. He finds Kenny holding shirts in front of himself as he stands in front of the mirror.

Babcock: What.

Kenny runs to him and flings his arms around him: Oh thank God you’re here!

Babcock: I thought you said this was an emergency?

KH: A fashion emergency. I’m meeting Mike Modano in 3 hours and I have nothing to wear. You have to help me. Please!

Babcock: I would punch you if you weren’t so pathetic. What’s wrong with what you’ve got on now?

KH: This is a bathrobe!

Babcock: I was kidding. That was a joke. Sit down, I’ll find you something.

Kenny sits down on his bed while Babs goes to stare down his closet until the proper outfit surrenders itself.

KH: I’m just so nervous. WE could be really great together, you know? I know he’s a little older and everybody thought he and Dallas were going to be together forever, but I really think we could make it work. The town could be good for him, you know? I just hope I don’t mess it up.

Babcock: One Modano date outfit, coming right up!
He throws the clothes and Kenny and flees form the room.

KH: A Hawaiian shirt? I you really sure that’s going to make the right impression?

While Kenny primps, Babcock, explores his house. On his rounds he finds a room with fresh red and white paint.

Ilitch: Nice, isn’t it?

Babs: Ah! Where did you come from?

Ilitch: Oh, I’m going to the game with you kids. Waiting for Kenny. It’s adorable how he’s so nervous about his little date.

Babs: *cough* Adorable. Right. What’s with the room.

Ilitch smiles at some inner secret and chuckles: Oh I’m just getting ready. It’s never too early to start planning. I don’t want to jinx anything but *winks and nudges Babs with his elbow* Cuppy, cuppy, cuppy, you know?

Babs: Er, sure.

Ilitch claps him on the shoulder and heads off down the hall: Ooh hoo hoo! Cuppy, cuppy, cuppy, I am feeling it.

Babs: Kenny, make it snappy!

Comerica Park

It’s a hot, sticky day, but Kenny drags both Mikes to the game well before the gates are open. He paces wildly outside the par, fretting and annoying everyone in the vicinity.

KH: Why isn’t he here yet? Do you think he’s not coming? Do you think his plane crashed? What if he ditched me to go to Minnesota? I don’t think I can take it.

Death Stare: *fires a warning shot across the bow*

Babcock: Stop it! He’s not dead; he’s on his way. He’s not here yet because the sun just rose ten minutes ago. He’s going to love you. But if you don’t man up, he’s going to have to love you in spite of your horrible Death Stare Disfigurement.


KH: Do you think he’ll like my shirt?

By the time Modano and his father arrive, Babcock has already sniped three pigeons and a Blackhawks’ fan to keep from strangling his friend. Luckily inside Ilitch’s box there is plenty of alcohol to mellow his mood. Kenny and Modano skirt around the edges of the room, occasionally making eye contact, but then looking away and running to hide behind chairs.

Babcock: *dragging Kenny by his collar* You made me come with you, now get in there and close the deal.

KH: *trips* Oof

Mike reaches down to help him up: Uh, hi. Mike Modano, unrestricted free agent.

KH: Ken Holland, brilliant general manager

Modano: I like your shirt

KH: *giggles* Thanks, you look good too.

The ice broken, Kenny gets down to business. He modestly extols the virtues of the kick as team the Wings have built this year and tells Modano he believes he could be the final missing piece that will enable them to take over the world bring home the cup. Mike is clearly intrigued, but hesitant..

Modano: That sounds great, Kenny, really. But these last few years with Dallas have really worn me down. I thought we were going to be together forever. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to make a commitment to another team.

KH: *sadface* No, I understand

Modano: But if I was going to be with anyone, Kenny, it would be you.

KH: *blushes*

Finishing off a six pack, Babcock shimmies between the two of them and slings an arm over each of their shoulders.

Babcock: We’re gonna have a great year this year, boys. You know how I know? Because you’re perfect for each other. I never liked those Dallas skanks anyway, you know. You’re better off without them, Mike. You mind if I call you Mike?

Modano: Um, sure.

Babcock: Yes sir, a match made in heaven. He how’s that wife of yours, Mike. She’s a fox isn’t she?

Across the box…

Ilitch: Yessiree, Mr. M. Cuppy, cuppy, cuppy, you know?

Mr. M: *checking his watch* Um… right. Mikey, we gotta go if we’re gonna catch our flight.

As father yanks him to the waiting limo, Mike waves at Kenny: I’ll text you!

KH: Did you hear that? You were right, he’s going to text me!

Babcock: *buuuurp*

One Week Later

Kenny is driving in BC when he decides to call Babs

Babcock: *in the middle of preparing stir fry* Don’t you have any other friends?

KH: He hasn’t texted me!

Babcock: Well he probably just hates you.

KH: What!?

Babcock: You know, if I go deaf, you’ll have no one to whine to. Who are we talking about again?

KH: Modano! Mike Modano. We went to the ball game last week!

Babcock: And you haven’t heard from him?

KH: No

Babcock: Right. I’m going to try and say this as nicely as possible. *ahem* Why don’t you just call him, you pansy?

KH: I can’t do that! He said he’d text me. I don’t want to pressure him. What if I freak him out? I don’t want him to think I’m too intense.

Babcock: *mutters* Noooo, we wouldn’t want to be too intense.

KH: What? What are you saying? I think you’re breaking up.

Babcock: *turns on kitchen fan* What? I can’t hear you. I better hang up now.

KH: Wait! Tell me what to do!

Babcock: *big sigh* Fine. Don’t call him. Let Minnesota get their claws in him. See if I care.

KH: Mike!
Babcock: The house is going through a tunnel, I can’t hear you. Bye!

KH: Hello? Hello? *throws the phone onto the passenger seat*

KH: Call him. Don’t call him. Call him. You’ll scare him off. Maybe he wants you to make the first move. Don’t call him. What if he’s meeting with Dallas? What if San Jose called? Call him. Don’t bother; he probably just used you for a free baseball game.

This thinking goes on in much the same way for twenty miles or so and Kenny has just about convinced himself he needs to forget about Modano. He reaches for his phone, thinking about giving Malts a call when he sees a blinking envelope on the screen.

Text Message: How’s it going? ♥ Mike

KH: * reads the message a 2nd and 3rd time to be sure he’s not imagining things before texting back: Fine, how are you?*

Text message: Not bad. I’ve been thinking about you.

Kenny’s eyes turn to hearts as he floats into the air on cloud nine, narrowly avoiding crashing into a speeding Audi: Yes! Woo hoo!


Sunday, June 27, 2010

Hank's beard

We've been terribly forgetful with this blog lately. It's inexcusable. You haven't heard from us since the Wings left the playoffs. We could tell you it's because we've been brokenhearted because of the loss (which is true) for two months, but really we've just been doing other things. Actually I'm actually cheating to bring this to you today because this drawing has been sitting in my files since June '09:

(I should probably take this moment to point out the 3rd member of our team. Tessa's boyfriend, Zack. Basically if you see any drawing on here that looks vaguely good or at least not like it was drawn on the back of Ebola research and then photographed with a sucky camera, it's probably his work.)

Anyway, last June, when were all sitting around the table: stunned, crying, eating sad playoff cake, our future captain, Henrik Zetterberg appeared to do an interview. It hadn’t been more than a minute or maybe time had ceased to exist inside the black hole of our Game 7 induced grief. Either way, we were completely shocked to see how quickly the Berg had gone from majestic facial hair to clean shaven. And that’s when Zack revealed what we should have known all along.

There is nothing normal about Zetterberg’s beard.

In fact, it is composed of the souls of men he has vanquished in battle. When they lose, they are simply sucked into the beard. On the occasions when Zetterberg happens to lose, the sadness of the event momentarily weakens his beard’s power. It is at this moment that the souls are able to escape. You may not have noticed it if you didn’t look close enough, but while the Penguins were frolicking with the Cup, a dazed and confused Steve Mason could been seen in the corner of the frame looking very scared and whimpering into a borrowed cell phone: “Mom? I don’t know where I am…”

Friday, May 7, 2010

Motivating the Mule

It’s twilight and Mike Babcock pulls up outside a self-service car wash. He sits behind tinted glass windows watching in the rearview mirror for his guest. A sporty car pulls into the lot and he exits the car, putting on a pair of sunglasses and holding a sealed yellow envelope.

Babcock: You’re late.

Young Woman: I thought I was being followed. I didn’t want to take any chances.

Babcock: Fine *hands envelope* Inside that envelope are all the details you need. Emilia and Sofie are expecting you. Bring your in-laws. Tell no one you’re going. Especially not your husband.

Young Woman: I don’t understand. What did I do to deserve this?”

Babcock: You? Nothing. There are circumstances beyond both our controls that make this necessary.

Young Woman: He’s going to worry. Can’t I just-

Babcock: No. Those are the conditions. No contact until Friday morning. Or you can stay here and face the consequences. Your choice.

Young Woman: I’ll- I’ll go.

Babcock: Wise choice. *gets in car, starts engine, and rolls down window* Oh, and ma’am?

Young Woman: Yes?

Babcock: Enjoy the spa.

Upon return to his home, the coach takes a seat in a small room lit by a single bare light bulb. A video camera is set up on a tripod. He looks into the lens and begins to speak

Babcock: Good afternoon, Johan. I am sorry it has come to this. However our perilous playoff position and the conspicuous absence of your name from the scoresheet have left me with no other choice. Johan, I have your family. They’ve been moved to a secure area and their safe release depends entirely on your performance…

In the morning this tape is sent by messenger to the Mule. And Babcock knows tonight will be different. However, unbeknownst to Uncle Mike, the Mule is leaving early today and never gets his special package. At dawn he is in the dressing room, staring into the mirror. Counting.

Ozzie arrives carrying an extra large espresso and a duck: Whoa, I didn’t think anyone was here. Um, I wasn’t going to put this in Lebda’s locker or anything. Nope. So… what are you doing?

Mule: Six. Seven. Eight. Nine.

Ozzie: Nine what?

Mule: Nine stitches on my face. Nine stitches that should have been avenged. Tonight they will be avenged. Not with four minutes of power play time, but with goals. So many goals. I will punish them tonight, Ozzie. Tonight they will know my wrath.

Ozzie: Swell. So just so we’re clear: you know nothing about this duck, okay? Good.

That night the Mule engages in a one man pillaging spree and leaves the Sharks fetal and clamoring for the relative safety of the penalty box. At game’s end, he stands upon a smoldering pile of sushi. Victorious.

Babcock: Well done, Mule. I’m sorry I had to resort to kidnapping your family, but, you know, sometimes you just have to.

Mule: What?

Babcock: What?

Mule: You kidnapped my family?

Babcock: What? No. I have no idea what you’re talking about. At all.

Mule: But you just said-

Babcock: You’re exhausted, man. You’re hearing things. Take a nap or something; I’ll catch up with you on the plane. *lowers voice* But don’t rest too long. Or maybe next time something will happen.

Mule: What?

Babcock: Nothing. Come on. Early day tomorrow. Get going.

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

We all have our monsters.

It’s been a long, hard days work for the Wings and it’s time for them to recharge and prepare for the day tomorrow. But some are unsettled by their new surroundings….

Pav: *Sitting on his bed staring at the ominous closet when he decides he’s finally had enough of the fear and goes for some help.*

Pav: *Knocks on door*
Babs: What is it Pav? I told you I wasn’t going to read you anymore bedtime stories after the little engine that could incident last year….
Pav: There’s a monster in my closet and I can’t go to sleep until it’s gone…will you check…*puppy dog eyes of sad*
Babs: *sigh* You better score a goal tomorrow….

They make their way to Pasha’s room and Babcock looks inside the closet.
Babs: Oh! There is one in here! Step back Pav.
Pav: What are you doing? Don’t anger it!
Babs: Trust me I got this. *cracks knuckles*

Babcock takes a deep breath and rips open the closet door. He then unleashes the almighty power of his SUPER DEATH GLARE! With a flash of red light the monster vanishes into ash and the closet is smoking.

Zetterberg: *Rushing in from the other room* Is everyone ok in here?! We heard the distinct sound of annihilation…Why is Pasha under the bed?
Babs: This doesn’t concern you Hank, I took care of it. *looking quite pleased with himself on a job well done*
Pav: I almost prefer the monster! *Clutching onto Zetterberg’s leg for dear life*

Friday, April 30, 2010

Peace River

Scene: It’s dusk on Monday night. Game 7 is tomorrow. Each of the players is dealing with it in their own way. Some drink. Some go on a candy binge. Some read confusing Russian novels. Some get their highlights retouched. Jimmy Howard would like to be playing video games or talking the hotel chefs into letting him run the kitchens for an our, but he’s received an urgent message from Ozzie, telling him to arrive at a certain address for “Game Prep.”

Jimmy sighs, but obediently gets out his GPS (programmed to sound like an Australian girl named Kimberly), hotwires a car from the parking lot, and drives to the undisclosed location. He turns in front of the last cactus on the left and pulls to a stop in front of the building. And decides that Kimberly has no idea what she’s talking about.

The sign on the establishment reads: Twisty Limbs Yoga Studio.

Jimmy: *pulls out cell phone; hits speed dial 2*

Ozzie: You better not be driving. Do you know how many cell phone related accidents happen each year? It’s a little late in the year to be breaking in a new goalie.

Jimmy: You gave me the wrong address. I knew 82 Tumbleweed Drive sounded fishy

Ozzie: No, no that’s right? Are you here? Hurry up; the coffee maker is trying to kill me.

Jimmy: You sent me to a Yoga Studio?

Ozzie: Argh! It’s spraying something! That’s not coffee! Aaaaarrrgggh *gurglecrashbang*

The line goes dead. Jimmy shakes his head but goes to enter the building.

Ozzie is in the large, open studio, barefoot, but otherwise in full gear. He’s struggling with a coffee pot in the corner, somehow having gotten tangled with the cord and covered with a black liquid.

Ozzie: It’s fighting back! Ack! *strangling, turning blue*

Jimmy: Again? Seriously? Your blood is like 90% caffeine; how do you not know how to work the coffee pot?

Ozzie: ASDLJ;K;DFLKA’AK;! *strangulation*

Jimmy frees Ozzie from the perilous machinery and gets a consumable beverage brewing.

Jimmy: Are you going to tell me what we’re doing here? I’m trying to unlock the Special Cup on Mario Cart

Ozzie: You haven’t beaten that yet? Haven’t you been playing for like 3 months?


Ozzie: *setting down his coffee mug and assuming Zen Mode* We have a very important game tomorrow. You can’t have nerves getting in the way of your performance.

Jimmy: But I’m not ner-

Ozzie: So I’ve decided it’s time to teach you the ways of Peace River.

Jimmy: Peace River?

Ozzie: Peace River.

Jimmy: Isn’t that in Alberta?

Ozzie: It’s really more a state of mind.

Jimmy: No, I’m pretty sure it’s in Alberta. I read your bio on Wikipedia. You’re s’posed to be good at elephant polo too.

Ozzie: No Elephants! *coughs, regathers self* Peace River is not just a city in Alberta; it’s a way of life. And I am now prepared to teach it to you, Grasshopper.

Jimmy: Look, um, I know you came all the way down here and everything, but I really think I have that whole “mental toughness” thing down. And frankly, if downward facing dog’s involved I don’t think I’m interested.

Ozzie: *wibble* I just wanted to he-elp.

Jimmy: Oh don’t do that. No. Okay. Look, just… Don’t call me Grasshopper and I’ll consider your “Peace River”

Ozzie: Promise?

Jimmy: Promise.

Ozzie: *Throwing duffel bag of spare goalie equipment at Jimmy* Get changed, Grasshopper!

Then this happens:

Jimmy: Okay, am I Peace River now? Can I go play video games?

Ozzie: You’ve only mastered Lesson One, Grasshopper. Saturday you’ll do calligraphy while I poke you in the arm over and over with a stick.

Thursday, April 22, 2010

Plane Ride

Alright, so this particular story requires me to drop some linkspam on you guys. We mention the game Sushi Cat in this story (A disgustingly addictive game) so here is the link if you're at all curious.
Now on to the story! ^_^

On the way home from Phoenix, all of the Red Wings were sound asleep. Well, except for one...

Jimmy:*Playing Sushi Cat and bursting into fits of giggles*
Bertuzzi: Jimmy! Will you STFU?! We're trying to sleep here!!!
Jimmy: don't understand!!!! *Wibble*
Ozzie: *Sigh* Todd, what did you do? That's so not Peace River......
Bertuzzi: Well....I was tired an-
Ozzie: *Points at Jimmy, who is struggling to hold back tears*
Bertuzzi: Aw come on Jimmy, don't do that....I didn't mean it....
Jimmy: *Sniffle* I was just trying to occupy my time since Ozzie took my Pokemon cards didn't have to say STFU either....that was harsh....
Bertuzzi: Pokemon cards....Seriously??!!
Jimmy: I don't even have my Sandshrew anymore!!! *cries into his pillow*
Ozzie: *Walks over to Jimmy* You'll get your cards back, you were just getting a little out of control with it that's all.

Lidstrom walks over to see what is going on, because he's the Super Swede.

Swede: Guys, quiet down....we don't wan tot wake up Babcock.
Horror Music: Plays creepily
Bertuzzi: *looks at ceiling* Where did that even come from?!
Ozzie: Jimmy....You're gonna have to let go man....I can't breathe
Jimmy: *Loosens death grip on Ozzie's neck* I sowy...*wibble*
Swede: Anyways, why did you take his cards away?
Ozzie: He was getting obsessive and it go to the point where he wasn't sleeping, he was studying tactics for more battles trying to "Catch 'em all". It's seem that he's just traded addictions though.....
Jimmy: Leave me and Sushi cat alone!!! You home wrecker!!! *huggles laptop protectively to his chest*

The windows begin to ice over and suddenly it gets harder to breathe. Out of the shawdows Babcock steps forward from the darkness, eyes red with fury and premature awakening crankiness.

Babcock: *Near death glare* Don't make me use this *points at eyes*
They all: *Wibble and go to bed*

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Time Out

The air in the room is tense. A single low-watt bulb flickers overhead. Water drips from the ceiling. A snow white dove escapes The Perfect Human’s brow.* Every eye in the room is on Mike Babcock who is looking down, burning a hole in the cement floor.

E: Is he having a stroke? Should we- Mmph
Lils: Shut. Up. Are you trying to get us all killed?

Not one of the men has their head raised. Jimmy Howard is sitting on the floor, having broken his stool against the wall. Now he is holding a stick in his hands, trying to snap it in two without drawing attention to himself.

Ozzie: Dude, P-
Jimmy: No I will not “Peace River!” I’ve had enough of your mellow, hippie, coffee-drinking. I am Angry River, dammit!
Ozzie: Shhhhhhh!

Babs: *finally looks up*
Entire Team: *recoils in horror*

Much to their relief, nothing and no one is vaporized.

Babs: Well I guess you all know why you’re here. You know why I’m disappointed in you.
Team: *sad nod*
Babs: Then you know what needs to happen now. I want you-
TPH: I’m putting myself in time out!
Babs: What?
TPH: *recovers from his emotional outburst and proceeds stoically* I’d just like to apologize to everyone. My performance was not what it should be. I’m going to go sit in time out and think about what I’ve done.
He rises regally and departs, a flock of doves following after him.

Babs: *thrown off, but trying to regroup* Right well, I hope the rest of you realize Swede isn’t the only one who-

Jimmy: *wibble* I’m going to time out too! *flees*
Mule: Me too!
Hank: Me three!

Babs: What? Hank, you don’t need time out. You’re doing fine.
Hank: I can always be better!

The entire team leaves the room to sit in time out for a while. Babs is left sputtering and annoyed. All that time working himself up to a frothy rage and no one to unleash it on.

But there is still one person left in the room.

Ozzie: Wow you cleared the room. Good job.
Babs: *grins, looking like the Grinch*
Ozzie: Why are you looking at me like that?
Death Stare: *set to stun*
Ozzie: *whimpers*
Ozzie: But I didn’t even play!
Babs: There are SCRIBBLES all over the face off charts. You have a GROCERY LIST in the margin. They make erasers for a reason, you barbarian.
Ozzie: But-
Babs: Time out! Go!
Ozzie: Yipe! *scampers off*

Babs: *triumphant* Excellent. Good work, Babcock. Way to keep ‘em in line. Let’s go kill a moose and mail it to Shane Doan.

^This is why I don't worry about our boys. Because they put themselves in time out^

*He's the Perfect Human. He sweats doves, okay?

Thursday, April 15, 2010


Allison: So Tessa brought it to my attention that we maybe should have introduced ourselves before we burst in and put our dirty feet up on your sofa. She's usually right.

I'm a relatively new hockey fan, which is to say I've been watching for 2 years. I love how that would make me an old hand at anything else but in hockey years I am light years behind you lifers. It's cool; I'll catch up. Anyhow, I fell in love with the Detroit Red Wings and dealt with that in the only approach at my disposal: intense fangirlry.

This blog really started during last year's playoff series against Chicago. Specifically when Ozzie was pulled for "dehydration" and Conks got to play for a bit. Or as our reporters discovered really happened:

Ozzie: *clapping hands together* Well we seem to have this game pretty well wrapped up. I am going to get some Starbucks. Ty, man, you can take over. If you want. I mean you don't have to. I really don't think there's any way they're coming back from this so if you want a nice iced coffee or some biscotti or something...

So Ozzie was revealed to be a Starbucks junkie and soon we uncovered many other secret habits our boys had kept hidden... until now. The italics weren't really necessary. I apologize. But this is the stuff we annoy our friends and family with day after day. And now we bring it to you. So sorry about that.

Tessa: I guess I'm what you would call a "baby" hockey fan. I began watching the Wings at the very beginning of last year's playoffs and it's safe to say I fell in love with it. I don't think it's just the game though; I really like the players. They all seem so collected and classy. So I did what I always do when I love something. I create absurd stories with my cousin, Alli. Eventually the stories just began building up til it got to the point we had to share them with someone else besides our friends and family.

Whether it be Jimmy's mad cooking skills, Bert eating kittens, or one of Pav's various personalities, I hope someone will find it amusing.

Monday, April 12, 2010

A Detroit Red Wings BBQ

To celebrate the first warm day of spring as well as their recent success, the Detroit Red Wings are having a BBQ. Young goalie, Jimmy Howard, is in his element. OR he would be if he was allowed to help...

Jimmy: Did you use the seasoning I gave you? Are you sure you want to hold the tongs that way? Can I just-
Drapes: Dude, I've been doing this since before you were born. Step. Off. Or I'll remove your spleen with my tongs.
Jimmy: But-
Drapes growls at him and Jimmy yelps and scampers off.

Ozzie: Who wants beer?
Homer and Lebda: Woo!

Across the yard, Uncle Mike is demonstrating to the Super Swede how he can use the Death Stare to take out a squirrel at 30 yards.

The Stare: *zing*
Squirrel: Goodbye Cruel World *dies*
Mike: See a lot of people think it's all in the eyes. But it's just as important to set the jaw.
TPH: *taking notes* Set... the... jaw...
Mike: *snipes a passing seagull* Go ahead and give it a try.
TPH: Well... all right.
He works up his concentration and focuses hard, fixing his blue eyes on the squirrels who have come to perform a funeral for their fallen comrade. Suddenly a heavenly light appears, a choir of angels sings a glorious tune and the dead squirrel springs back to life, waves in gratitude and zips away.
Mike: Um...
TPH: That was wrong, wasn't it?

Mule, Kronner, Meech, Lils, and Raffie are playing two touch and casting uncomfortable glances at Pav and Z who are frolicking across the field. They're laughing as they kick a soccer ball and butterflies, flowers, and woodland creatures spring up and sing behind him. Ericsson is practicing tossing his gorgeous hair in the wind for his romance cover shoot. At least until a swarm of bees mistakes him for a flower and chases him across the yard. Williams is being held up at the gate.

JWill: Look, I swear I'm on the team. I've got ID and everything.
Bouncer: *not looking up from Sudoku* Mmmhmm, I'm sure you do, kid. No autographs today.

So the party is in full swing and it's a fabulous time for everyone. Except Jimmy Howard.

He's prepared all the side dishes: beans, corn, potatoes, fruit salad, deviled egs, popcorn balls, fruit punch, cheetos, chocolate pudding, souffle, chocolate cake, and a tray of his latest biscotti recipe. But he is not happy. Crouching behind a prickly bush, Jimmy Howard squints at Kris Draper. He cringes as Drapes drops the tongs and lets a whole batch of burgers burn while he darts into the two touch game to kronwall Mule.

Ozzie: Dude, what are you doing?
Jimmy: AAAAAAAHHHHH! Don't sneak up on me!
Ozzie: *sipping beer* You're hiding in the bushes.
Jimmy: I know. I know I'm in the bushes. It's so I can watch him.
Ozzie: Watch who?
Jimmy: Draper! He's going to ruin everything! He said he was going to put the seasoning I gave him on the steaks, but he didn't. I can tell. Why would he do that, Ozzie? Does he want everyone to get food poisoning? DOES HE?
Ozzie: I think you need a beer, man.

Homer and Lebda: Woo!

Jimmy: If you're going to mock me, you can walk home.
Ozzie: Look. The only way you're going to get Drapes to give up the barbecue is if you kill him. So why don't you have a drink-

Homer and Lebda: Woo!

Ozzie: -and Peace River about it, okay?
Jimmy: Never!

Ozzie shrugs and heads over to the limbo contest while Jimmy remains crouched behind the shrub. Plotting. Mumbling to himself. At last a light bulb appears above his noggin and he grabs his cell phone. Not five minutes later, a figure dressed in black runs into the party (JWill: You let him in here?) wielding a hockey stick.

Mysterious figure: *whacks at Draper's knees, knocking him down*
Draper: WAAAAA!!?
Jimmy: Don't HURT HIM! Geez! I said don't hurt him!
Mysterious Figure: Relax. I got this.
The man in black pulls a chloroform soaked bag from his utility belt and a long piece of rope. He quickly subdues the ginger forward and locks Draper in the trunk of Ozzie's jeep where he will remain until the goalie can find his keys.

Mysterious Figure: So I'll be in tomorrow then?
Jimmy: Sorry. Holland changed his mind. I tried to call you back but your phone must be on silent or something.
Mysterious Figure: That's Attack Mode! My phone can't go off during an ASSAULT!
Jimmy: Not my problem, man. Say hi to the Liberty Bell for me.
Mysterious Leino: *pouts and stalks off*

Jimmy: *grabbing tongs and tying on favorite apron* Woo hooo! Don't worry guys! I can fix this!
Tuzz: Yo, Jimmy. You cooking now?
Jimmy: *beaming* That's right!
Tuzz: Good. I've got some special dietary needs you're gonna have to cater to.
Jimmy: Oh sure, Todd. Low sodium? Gluten-free? Lactose intolerant? I can do them all.
Tuzz: *hands Jimmy a burlap sack stained with a mysterious substance* Just grill this up for me.
Jimmy: *opens bag and goes pale* There's a kitten in this bag.
Tuzz: Medium-well. Thanks

Jimmy serves up the most fabulous meal any of the Wings have ever eaten. Draper is released and allowed to eat with the team after promising he will never again take the tongs from Jimmy. They eat biscotti and play two touch and practice the Death Stare until Lebda gets so inebriated he starts hitting in Fil. (Lebs: I hope you know CPR, 'cause you just took my breath away. Homer: Uhhh... That's not right, man.) Then everyone knows it's time to go home.