I wrote this holiday tale after learning that TM was sad he couldn’t use Marco right away. No one should read it. Well, maybe if you have a drink. I’d skip to the comments even then.
(Rinkside, 5 A.M. Two weeks before Christmas. Dean Lombardi stands beside a tree with one large, lumpy present beneath it. Terry Murray pads out in red footie pajamas.)
DL: Hey, buddy. Let’s see what Santa brought! It’s even early!
TM: Oooooh! A left winger! A left winger! (flurry of torn paper) Uh…what is it?
Sturm: Allo!
DL: It’s a Sturminator! I used to have one just like it.
(Dean winds Sturm up and sends him skating in circles.)
Sturm: Schuss, schuss, schuss, schuss
TM: But there isn’t any other package there? …Are you sure Santa did nothing about kidnapping Hall or Parise?
DL: He said his henchmen tri—he said it wasn’t in the holiday spirit.
TM: Well. This one’s okay, I guess. But it…smiles so much.
DL: Don’t let that fool you. He’s a two-way player, great on the PK, speed to burn, scores goals—
TM: New top line! New top line!
(Sturm runs out of power and falls down)
DL: —but you can’t play him yet.
TM: What?! I want him NOOOOW!
DL (winding Sturm up again): Y’see, he’s vintage. He’ll be fine, you just have to be a little careful with the limbs.
TM: But why did you even have me open it if I can’t throw it out with Kopitar yet? This is bull!
DL: Now, see here, Terry. You’ll take him, and you’ll like it. Don’t forget what happened to your Teddy Purcell. Or your Moulson Man. I gave them away, and now they’re getting regular ice time in perfectly good homes. Plenty of needy Eastern teams would be grateful for this.
TM (mumbles): Ah, who needs ’em.
DL: And another thing — you barely even use your My Little Poni anymore…
TM: But, b-but — my Cliffasaurus is soooo cool! He’s all, RAR, RAR, SMASH, KILL, RAR, RAAAR! Left, right, Boom!!!
DL: Heh, yeah, that is cool. (More sternly) I mean, no, he’s young. You need to be careful not to wear him out. Even if you use him with the Handzus Warrior Ostrich™ action pack.
TM (folding arms) They look good together.
DL: He’s just a puppy. Give Poni more time. And put out your Pretty-Hair Sock’em Westgarth for the heavies. If you break Cliffy, you’re not getting another one.
TM: Ooo-kay. We’ll see. (under his breath) He can’t make me.
DL: Now, go check out your new Sturm. See? He wants to be friends! What’s that in his hand?
TM: It’s…a hat? With a steak patch sewed onto it? For me?
Sturm: Stay hungry! Stay hungry!
TM: Awwww…!
Sturm: I must be perfect. I must work harder. For the team.
TM: All right, that’s freaking adorable.
DL: Just let him rest up, and feed him plenty of schnitzel.
TM: Okay, little fella. But tomorrow, we’re skating you for 12 hours.
Sturm: Yaaaay!
TM: I’ll work him until he pukes!
Sturm: Woohoo!
Clifford (lumbering in with a bandaged face): Must. Find. Ducks. Must! KILL! MUHAHAHA!
Sturm: Stay hungry!
(everyone laughs)
DL: Looks like we might have a merry Christmas after all.
TM: And to all, a good fight.