[prologue, Jheismanziel] Sadness is all that I feel. Anger is the only emotion that will overcome the feeling of despair, so that is how I cope. The team for which I put my blood, sweat, and tears into is no longer my team. I am a lone wolf, needing to make sacrifices to survive. Nay, not NEED to make sacrifices, MUST. Without these sacrifices I cannot keep living. Violence consumes my daily thoughts. When I step out onto the ice, I see flashes of red. An undescribable emotion hits like a tidal wave as I analyze my opponent. The puck on the ice is only an object in my mind. The bodies are the true prize, and I intend to take them for their unsubstantiated worth. You may ask the simple question, what would provoke this sick inner thought of a human being? I would respond with an equal foul statement. My treacherous, villainous, despicable, monstrous, whore of a wife slept with my general manager - Serpe. There is not a sin lower in the biblical realm than that of adultery. I must atone for these crimes with punishment of those on the ice. Discretion to commit these acts will come on my own accord, without consult with the upper management team. Questions will be raised, but the true bearer of these penalties will face their consequences in due time. For this week though, all other opponents must face one penalty - annahilation. [Jdupuis]: Serpe, we have got a huge fuckin' problem. Do you know what the fuck you did last night? [Serpe]: No man, I had to scrub this red war paint off of my face and finally get that crazy carpet bomber off of our team. Anyway, last night was wild dude! [Jdupuis]: Dumbass, you stuck your dick into the holy grail of women. The one woman who is not to be touched, and you took the honey out of the jar. I don't know how we are going to smooth things over, but you better get on your hands and knees. Give him a blow job if it comes down to it. [Serpe]: Wait, hold on a second… [Jdupuis]: Give him the fucking blow job. [Serpe]: Who are we even talking about here? [Jdupuis]: Johnny Hockey, you slept with his wife. You know what they fucking call her dude? The Duchess. The fucking Duchess. She is elegant enough to be the queen of her own small country. Blonde hair, blue eyes, 5'10, front cover of vanity fair. [Horror is now seen in the eyes of Serpe as time flashes back to the eventful part of the night.] [Flashback: In a dark room, two people's faces are lit by a candlelight within the room. One we see is Serpe, long brown hair with brown eyes, tanned with a touch of puerto rican to his complexion. The next face we see is a gorgeous one. Marilyn Monroe pales in comparison to this dynamic beauty. With blue eyes that dazzle like gem stones, red lipstick that could paint roses, and a skin complexion of a Goddess, this perfect specimen begins to lure Serpe with the stroke of one finger across the chest. [Serpe]: Have I seen you before? [Georgiana]: I do have a face that is recognizable amongst mortals such as yourself. [Serpe]: I don't know what you just said, but I do know you are the most gorgeous girl I have ever seen. [Georgiana begins to take the clothes off of Serpe, and Serpe with her. Heavy breathing ensues as the two jump into bed together with Serpe on top. Georgiana is full spread, with Serpe whispering softly. While inaction, the camera zooms onto a behemoth in the darkness. Though in the darkness, his eyes are glistening with a terrible hatred. With anger seething from his entire being, the large mass exits through the door.] [Serpe]: I'm fucked dude. I'm royally fucked. What the fuck do I do? [Jdupuis]: Whatever you have to do to clear up this mess. Look, I have a massive drug stash so you might want to pop a few Xanax to clear up that anxiety. Also, he is your defensive partner as well as a fellow player. He weighs in at two hundred and forty pounds while being six foot nine. You better watch yourself. If he wanted, he could crush your skull with one hand. [Serpe]: Say, you gotta few Xanax on you now? [Jdupuis hands the Xanax to Serpe while popping a few of his own. Serpe knows that the situation is serious, and tries to sober up.] [Jdupuis]: Guzzle them down with this water. [Serpe]: Ahhhh [Jdupuis]: Now look, you sleep this one off and look presentable tomorrow. See if Jheismanziel suspects that you slept with his whore of a wife. If he does, prepare to do that sucking or whatever it will take to patch things up. *Scene cuts to JHeismanziel who is seeking counsel from his confidant, PeasantPedro. JHeismanziel: Do you know what that bitch did? She slept with my fucking defensive partner. Right in fucking front of me. I'm going to severe his head and mail it to league gaming office. PeasantPedro: If you want, just request a trade man. It shouldn't come to this, you cannot commit murder. JHeismanziel: The hell I can't. Serpe's testes will be liquified, put through a catheter, and the secretion will disperse throughout his body because the only word I have for him right now is ball-less. PeasantPedro: How are you going to play hockey games with this guy? JHeismanziel: Game Purposes in hockey have never seemed so clear. Every player in LGHL will be thrown around like a ten cent rag doll.. PeasantPedro: What in the fuck…? Just go talk to Serpe man. [The next day at practice is an eventful one. Axe spray is in the air, along with the dingy smell of mildewed towels. Johnny walks through the door with a vehement stare that makes Serpe feel transparent.] Serpe: Hey Johnny, that party was something else, wasn't it? [Upon this comment, JHeismanziel picks up a puck and stick. Without warning, he puts the puck on the ice while winding up his stick to take a slap shot. At this moment, if you have ever taken a physics class you would know that momentum = mass x velocity. One hundred and seven miles per hour. Pucks that travel at this rate are dangerously parallel to the speed of a fired bullet. So when the puck barely clipped Serpe's ear and left a slice of it on the floor, the reaction of nearby teammates was one of dismay. Serpe stares in disbelief. If senses could speak, they would tell him not to look down. Instantly dropping to his knees, he collects the pieces of his ear. Interestingly enough, practice was solid that day. No hiccups, no fights, not even a word was spoken. Coaches talked, players listened. Everyone went business as usual, which considering the circumstances, was a bit unusual. The games however, were a different story. [Serpe]: This has gone on far enough. I'm going to give this guy a piece of my fucking mind. Hey Johnny, we need you to change your playing style. [JHeismanziel]: What the fuck do I need to change about my style? [Serpe]: Oh, let's see, try about three different reasons. This past week you have taken 20 penalty minutes, more than about half of what you have had previously in the year. We didn't win a single fucking game with you smashing everyone on the ice. When the player was going toward the boards without the puck, you threw his head in the glass. In the game against Minnesota, you injured two fucking players on the opposing team. One cost us five minutes on the penalty kill, the other resulted in you being suspended and fined. You constantly troll or bait our team. You call our new winger a "panty waist gay boy." Your bashing of homosexuals has not done well for the image of our team. Either change, or you're traded. [JHeismanziel]: In one hand you complain about my play on the ice and with the other you use it to finger my wife. Get the fuck out of here. As far as this partnership, I'll show you how mutual it is. [In this instance, we do not know what happens. The light goes out, and we hear multiple screams. The light is now bright, with Serpe sitting in a chair. A hockey stick has been shoved through his shoulder, with a near perfect entry preventing any blood loss. JHeismanziel is nowhere to be found, and thus the partnership of the Heisman and Detroit is over.]
TLDR: You took penalties and wasted 30 minutes of people's lives to get traded in internet hockey. Kewl.
this was my reaction exactly with the inclusion of me shaking my head lmao. Well written story I must admit
