Rookie Booze Cruise 2011: HIGH SEAS DRAMA
"Brayden, Brayden. Please. You're killing me. Remember when you were wearing that dog collar and Stevie was pulling you during the relay? Remember?" Gary Roberts is oblivious to his crewmates looking for him on deck. All he knows right now is Brayden Schenn - one of his legion of brainwashed blissiples - is confused at the Archie McPhee Superstore. He continues yelling into his circa 1986 beeper-cum-Maidenform-Smartphone: "And, and I was screaming at you that it was absolutely never okay - NEVER OKAY! - to eat canned ANYTHING?! Remember?!"
"Brayden - this isn't even a canned turkey. It's an INFLATABLE turkey. It's polyurethane, which is really REALLY hard on your digestion. Y'know what vinyl translates into on the ice, don't ya? It means stupid penalties and inopportune bathroom breaks mid-period. So put that inflatable turkey down, son. Have a garlic-chive kombucha, start chanting and call me in the morning." (click)
Gary puts down his monster beeper. "Goodness gracious great balls of fire," he mutters. "And I thought his brother was stupid..." He makes his way up the steps to the deck, reporting as summoned to Captain Recchi.
"Gary, the time has come old friend!" Recchi announces. "We need you to infiltrate the evil-doers aboard the Rookie Cruise as only you can, and pluck the Nuge at your earliest convenience! Our subject must be saved from himself and his peers as soon as possible! Are you ready? Can you handle this, Robs?" (suddenly everybody hears vague bugle horn sounds for some reason)
Gary is all over this. "Rex Pimp, you know you can count on me. It would be my honor to carry out this mission of mercy for you as your Frogman-In-Arms! I will ready the reconnaissance vessel directly..." The Geezers cheer him and proceed to the launch pad where the SS Cialis - a torpedo-armed marine-kitted Lear jet - is ready and waiting to Do The Deed.
Meanwhile, back on board the Rookie Cruise, Bobby flushes the toilet and pretends he's been taking a big dump to deflect suspicion 'cause Coco is looking at him funny. "Hey Coco, what's up?" A clearly agitated Bobby is pretending to put on hair gel and even a self-absorbed, constipated dumbass like Coco can tell something's up.
"Euh, d'rien mon ami mais -- you okay, man? What happened to your hair? C'est frizze comme -- Oh, and where should I buy a house in South Jersey? Giroux told me I should ask you 'cause you're an expert..."
Bobby is FREAKING and bzzz-bzzz. Bzzz-bzzz. The dreaded duckie vibrator walkie-talkie again. SHIT. He excuses himself and locks himself back into the exact same stall from 20 seconds ago.
"WHAT? What do you want?" Bobby whispers. Coco is blinking and thinking he's hearing things.
The duckie vibrator walkie-talkie is harder to make out this time. Maybe because of all the mayhem and merriment occurring on the other end. "BOOOBY!!! Hey, BOOOOOBY!!!" The cackling, chuckling and cacophony is ridiculous. Can't even. Don't even bother trying. Just look. They need no introduction. And be very glad you're not Bobby Ryan right now:
Cue the dreaded "Born Agains." Those stubborn, willful, bitter wannabes who wish they were perpetual rookies but of course they will accept that this particular celebratory cruise came many years too late and a dollar short for their class(es) to enjoy. Make no mistake: This Motley Crew will stop at nothing to crash the cruise as only they can if it's the last thing they do. Jeff Carter announces himself: "Hey BOOB! Jersey's in the house, bitch! This is the SS Fuck You Holmgren, OVER!" (laughter becomes shrieking) Patrick Kane can't hardly stand it and yells his two cents: "Yeah, come in BOOB! WTF, man? You've been like super quiet and shit. Haven't heard from you in at least an hour! Have you completed your mission yet, asswipe?"
Bobby is struggling to muffle the walkie-talkie so Coco can't overhear. "Will you guys STFU already? You're gonna blow it all before it's even begun! I haven't had a chance to plant the seed yet, but they're about to proceed to their next seminar and that's when I'll effectuate the transfer. Over!"
"Hey Silver - you there?" Ugh. This fricking sucks. It's Ryan "Gold" Getzlaf. "Um, YEEah I'm here, Getz..." Bobby can't believe this. "Silver, silver, silver... You better not DISAPPOINT us, eh? This is your BIG CHANCE to prove to the world that you're so much more than mere silver. You're made of GOLD! Right? Even if you can't WIN gold. You're cast from it. Because of good buddies like us. Now go do us proud, put down that purse you've been carrying and GET THIS SHIT DONE. 'Kay?" (click and Bobby rolls his eyes)
An air raid siren announces it's time for Biz's pet seminar devised especially for 2011's Rookie Kids: "Safety First: Demystifying AEDs In The New NHL"...
Biz has laid out practice automated external defibrillators (AEDs) for the boys to manipulate and play with accordingly. "As your Safety Director, I hope you know that I am 1000% committed to securing your safety and well-being aboard this cruise, boys. And I can assure you that this vessel is equipped with only the latest and greatest medical technology to keep you healthy and safe throughout your trip. (Skog, Hubie and The Nuge all smile in acknowledgment)
That's why we have conveniently installed security cameras in all the ship's washrooms, for example! Isn't it cool knowing that even when you['re trying to go number 2, you can rest assured that I have your backs and I'm looking at/out for you! (now the Rookies are looking at each other like WTF)
Please observe the AEDs - or defibrillators - for practice in advance of your certifications. You never know when you'll be expected to resuscitate one of your teammates without notice so it's always best to be prepared at all times, right?
"You guys are probably petrified of these contraptions, but really all you need to do is follow the automated instructions once you open the boxes! Just secure the pads like the diagrams tells you (opens the pads and sticks them on Zibby's chest for purposes of the demo) and then you grab the paddles and prepare to jolt -- Uh Oh!
Zibby what gives, bro?
Zibby's pads won't stick. Biz explains how come. "Okay, this is super gross but it's important! Remember that if your victim has ape-like chest hair, you'll need to shave him/her (ew) asap because the pad suction won't work if there's too much hair! No suction equals no shock which means CERTAIN DEATH!!! (the Rookies are laughing at Zibby and he's super pissed) The boys pair up, inspecting and shaving each other's chestals with epilators just to be safe. Dougie and Bob are bromancing anew and appear to be having way too much fun.
Suddenly, somebody lets a shock rip and an outbreak of gratuitous shocking erupts around the room. Guys are yelping and laughing like little spider monkeys. Pandemonium ensues. Biz proudly declares the demo a resounding success and says it's okay to go hit the refreshment stations. The giggling should have done everybody a world of good. But something is clearly very wrong.
Mudhoney's "(Touch Me) I'm Sick" video
"My tummy ached before and now it's like churning! I think I'm gonna hurl!" wails Zibby. Brooks chimes in as well: "Yah! Me too! I hef to go kaa-kaa like all da time and I am green like the Incredible Hulk!"
Hubie concurs: "My forehead feels hot and my saliva tastes like garbage!" Relatively newish dads Colonel Angus and Jumbo sweep in, feeling the kids' foreheads and holding their hands. A curiously oversized Slappy helps out by sticking thermometers up their buttholes. Quel Disastre. All of the Rookies have raging fevers and abnormally puckering buttholes. "Off to the infirmary!" announces Colonel Angus "This is a job for the elusive, mysterious Dr. Kesler, right Slappy?"
Meanwhile, in the bowels of the ship's boiler room, Double Agent Bobby walkie-talkies the Geezers and bong-pings the Born Agains that THE TIME HAS ARRIVED to commence positioning.
Nobody's particularly sure where "Dr." Kesler earned his medical credentials in such a big hurry, and what exactly constitutes his field of specialty. But he certainly deserves props for wearing glasses that make him look like an egghead, pecking his laptop like a science geek and practicing his pilates like a good little grasshopper.
"Welcome, my little sons. Come hither..." One-by-one, Dr. Kesler invites the Rookies into his examination room. He sings a magical Asian chant, and shows them the famous Bristol Stool Chart hanging on his wall. "So tell me which of these stool types best resembles yours!"
The Rookies study the chart and unanimously point out that their number 2's are type 7's (number 3's, if you will). "Hmmm - very interesting!" Dr. Kesler examines the Rookies' buttholes with sterile, NHL-sanctioned red-white-and-blue anal bead sparklers. He gags, prescribes five bottles of Pepto per Rookie and sends them to bed. "But watch out," he warns, "because the Pepto doesn't mix well with the peach schnapps and the Darvon under-the-tongue drops you should all be taking hourly for your fevers." Then, Dr. Kesler does a doula move
picks up his Batman crisis phone and makes the call for one remedy and one remedy only: GARY ROBERTS.
Incredibly (but not really), a wetsuit-clad Gary Roberts climbs aboard the Booze Cruise from the just-arrived SS Cialis rescue vessel.
Accompanying Gary to assess the crisis and make recommendations are his two super bored, "rehab-bound" interns, Matt Duchene and Logan Couture.
Gary doesn't mince words: "This is what protracted hours of eating, drinking and masturbating will do to you boys! (turns to Jonesy) Show me the kitchen, the servery and the buffet area!" Jonesy obliges and everybody is transfixed as Gary methodically puts his snorkel mask back on and slides underneath the sneezeguard that hovered over the burgers, wieners and corn-on-the-cob buffet from lunchtime. "I knew it! This sneezeguard is contaminated! Boys, come have a look!" Duchene and Couture yawn and check out the sneezeguard.
Gary makes the following brutal announcement to Jonesy: "I venture this health crisis could have been averted had you used my patented Gary Roberts Sneezeguard, which provides state-of-the-art protection to all foodstuffs. Here is my recommended course of action:
Effective immediately, a moratorium on all burger, wiener and corn-on-the-cob consumption;
No more food fights;
Servery sterilization and sneezeguard swap-outs;
A bowl of plain quinoa per Rookie every 3 hours;
A pot of detoxifying chamomile citrus tea per Rookie every 2 hours;
Two packets of Bio-Steel confetti grape Jell-O per hour per Rookie;
Aggressive utilization of the complimentary fart absorbers included in each Rookie's grab bag ("How fortuitous!").
Gary leads the Rookies to a special viewing room after their first round of treatment, where Duchene and Couture have set up a Pad Thai instructional video by "Vegan Heavy Metal Chef" to get their minds off their cramps.
The boys pass out at the tofu part and the Chaps carry them back to their bunks.
Everybody is sound asleep until Hubie bolts out of his bed, itchy and scratchy.
Dougie is now wide awake. "Dude, WTF? Are you having that recurring nightmare about Lars again?"
"NO, man! My feet have bibites marks on them and they won't stop itching! Ugh it sucks. I want to die. Oh and now I have to go ka-ka. Great! Maman!" Hubie dashes to the restroom. Dougie is half-asleep and still doesn't get what's going on until Coco yells "Ayoyie!" and grabs his ankle. "Maudites bibites estie!"
Then Lars starts crying and running around the room, flogging at himself like a psychopath.
"WTF you guys just STOP IT!" Dougie is freaking out, now. "You're scaring me!" Coco announces that he has numbed his bites with zit cream and everybody should try that just FYI. "What bites are you talking about?" asks Dougie. "What 'bit' you? I think you guys are crazy, man..." Marky-Mark has an answer for Dougie, though: "Dude, it's bedbugs. My parents told me to watch out for them in hotels. They're fricking bloodsuckers! So gnarly!"
A chorus of "ewws" and the Rookies escape to the plastic lounge chairs by the hot tubs on the top deck of the ship. Before tucking back in, Dougie finds a lost cellphone by the hot tub and secretly dispatches the following "anonymous" complaint to The Bedbug Registry:
Then he notices THIS at the tub-side Tiki Bar:
"OMG. The Nuge..."
END OF EPISODE 3