This may be late but it is totally worth the wait. Thanks to Mouthguard for this ridiculous and awesome Date With An Oldster of sorts...
NH-HELL Hallowe'en Extravaganza 2011
HOCKEYWONDERLAND ST., NOWHERE, CANADA/USA:
"Okay boys, does everybody have a flashlight, concussion-proof helmet and wiener glowsticks handy?"
It's Hallowe'en 2011. Like a combination Pied Piper/Town Crier, Brendan Shanahan is gathering his wee army of Nebbish Army Trick-Or-Treaters.
"Let's all "tweet" our mommies and daddies that we're safe, we're looking both ways before we cross so we're not 'blindsiding' anybody in a moment of over-enthusiasm..." (chuckles and waits to see if anybody got that inside joke) "... and also that we're ever-mindful of our blood glucose intake and then we'll be on our way!" The boys dutifully tweet their mums and dads and send Twitpics to prove their point.
"Hey Brendan Brendan Brendan! Brendan Brendan Brendan Brendan Brendan Brendan Brendan! Can we start over there?"
"Yeah yeah yeah Brendan Brendan Brendan can we go see that creepy house eh Brendan eh Brendan eh can we can we can we can we? Eh?"
Sidney Crosby and Jonathan Toews are yelling at the top of their lungs; their chubby baby faces are covered with powdered sugar and KitKat residue, pointing to a house across the street that can only be described as... assez peculier.
It's the sort of house that looks creepy all year-round. It's black. It's gothy. It's pointy. It's clearly some sort of gateway to --
Geno Malkin and Jeff Skinner jump up and down and chime in: "Yeah Brendan Brendan Brendan let us c'mon let us 'cmon!"
"Okay boys, just settle down," says Brendan Brendan Brendan. "Geno, I think you should ease up on that Reddi-Whip, son. You're literally running on nitrous fumes. I can tell from your pupils. What happened to your pants? Oh my. Your parents are going to kill me..."
"I good, Brendan Brendan Brendan! I make score free candy wheeep creem Brooks Orpik, ya! Hell Ween! Hell Ween!"
"Listen, if you all want to start across the street, that's fine by me. It's a scary house for sure. They'll probably have some extra scary treats for us, eh?" Delighted squeals all around.
Joe Pavelski isn't so sure though. "I'm scared. I don't wanna."
"Don't worry, ti-bat! I gonna hold your hand, 'kay?" Martin St. Louis grabs Little Joe's hand.
"Yeah, we've got your back bud!" Dustin Brown takes Little Joe's other hand and everybody follows Brendan Brendan Brendan across the street to the creepy Hallowe'en house.
Brendan Brendan Brendan is just about to ring the creepy doorbell on the creepy Hallowe'en house when he is interrupted by the sound of peeling tires and a gong in the driveway.
It is Zdano Chara and several of his Bruins teammates. They pile out of a creepy hearse with vanity plates that say 'HELL-00'. "May we join you?" Zdano asks. They are dressed like trick-or-treaters, but something seems just a bit "off" about the whole scenario. "Nice bunny ears, Z." laughs Brendan Brendan Brendan. "I guess it's okay, right boys? Z and his friends can join us?" The boys are too petrified to respond, except for Little Joe Pavelski, who says "I'm scared. I don't wanna." Z tenderly touches Little Joe's cheek and flashes his newly-sharpened Vlad-like incisors.
"I crush you by mistake maybe?" Joe nods. "Me sorry. Me not do again. Everrrrr."
"There you see boys! He learned his lesson! Z's been listening to the Department of Player Safety!" Brendan Brendan Brendan is very pleased.
"Now let's see who's lurking behind this door, eh?" The bell rings and the door opens almost immediately. An unmistakable face squints up and down at the boys. "Ouais, allo! Allo! Entrez, s'il vous plait! Bienvenue!" It is the extra creepy smiling face of Bolts coach Guy Boucher, and he is enticing the brood with a platter of creepy hors-d'oeuvres.
"Please - everybody, be my guest and come into my home. It would be my honor to show you around my historic abode and for you to eat les bonbons speciales that I have prepared especially for you! S'il vous plait!"
Mike Fisher, David Booth and Dan Hamhuis are holding hands and inquire in perfect unison: "Is that an upside down cross? Are you Ozzy?"
"No no, mes p'tits!" Guy is laughing awkwardly and clearing his throat. "It is merely a fleur-de-lys lightshow! Can I ask you boys how come you are all dressed the same? You are all dressed like Jesus, non?"
The three boys nod their heads together like one big fat head. Their host shakes his head and gives them his patented serial killer stink eye.
"Why do you dress like the same guy on Hallowe'en? Pourquoi? Pas tellement original, non? Je trouve tes 'Jesuses' assez plat, mais quand-meme... Points pour l'effort!" Guy walks over to Skin, looking back at the Three Kings. "How come you cannot create a costume like this beautiful little girl, hein? Felicitations, Skin! You win the special 'Mullet of the Week' prize for best costume! So don't go anywhere, okay?"
Guy is once again forcibly contorting his face into something resembling laughter.
"Brendan, I see you found Z and his friends!"
He whispers into Brendan Brendan Brendan's ear: "It's natural for him to want to regress into his vampire/impaler alter self. He's from that part of the world where blood-sucking and mind-control are the rule and not the exception!" Brendan is confused. "You mean, Florida?" Guy laughs maniacally. "I wish!"
Sid pulls Toews over to look up at a giant mural in the parlor. "Look, Jonny! It's the Sedins! Look how their eyeballs look back at you and follow you! So creepy!"
Jonny whoas and then the two of them are clutching each other just in case. Brendan Brendan Brendan puts his hands on their shoulders and reassures them that the Sedins cannot possibly be living in Guy's mural.
But he looks back just to be sure.
Guy pushes the youngsters into the ballroom because there's a crazy monster mash disco dance-off happening right now. "It is so exciting, boys! We are down to the final three contestants!
and GARY BETTMAN!!!
"Isn't that your boss, Brendan Brendan Brendan?!" chant the Three Kings, pointing at Bettman doing the bump. "No boys, that's the Crypt Keeper. Try not to look too long at these guys okay?" Brendan Brendan Brendan warns. "Mo should know better than to flash his junk like this - even on Hallowe'en. It's probably part of the readjustment process for him... And JR always looks ghoulish, even on a good night."
Geno suddenly yells at the top of his lungs: "Looky! Barf Zombie! Brainless Brad! Angry Chicken! Slam dance! Slam dance!"
Guy promptly chews out Barf Zombie, Brainless Brad and Angry Chicken for crashing and slam-dancing at the dance competition, but Brendan Brendan Brendan seizes the opportunity to educate and inform his trick-or-treaters accordingly. "Given that 1) these three monsters' heads/brains are the principal point of contact; 2) they are making illegal checks to their heads/brains; 3) they are not making full body checks; and 4) all three players have a supplemental disciplinary monstrous history, the Department of Player Safety has decided to ban/suspend Barf Zombie, Brainless Brad and Angry Chicken from crazy monster mash disco dance-offs for the next 5 hours and they must volunteer at least 30 days of corpse prop public service at the county morgue."
JR is livid and drunk. He staggers over to Brendan Brendan Brendan, protesting thusly: "Hey Brenndannhh! Don't you think that's a LITTLE HARRRSHHH?! What'd Barfff Zombeee and Bainleth Braaa ever to to you, eh? And Angry Chiccckk has to carry his head around! Yur... Yur... Yur jes jellus cuz they're having pppffun!!!"
"Put a sock in it, JR! You're sweating like a pig and spitting on Brendan!"
"Yeah, just quit it, shitbum!"
Martin St. Louis asks Dustin Brown who those two guys are. "I think it's John Tortorella and Bruce Boudreau! It's like they've turned into real live zombies!" COOOOLLLL!!!
Alas, the Three Kings have wandered into even creepier territory upstairs in Guy's exercise chamber. "Wow, this looks like an Inquisition-era torture device!"
Guy clarifies: "Oh no no no! This is a rack for drying out your hockey equipment mes p'tits Jesuses! So it does not pu comme ka-ka!"
Meanwhile, Skin is wondering where his special 'Mullet of the Week' prize is for his naughty nurse costume. "Brendan Brendan Brendan, where's my prize? I won a prize, didn't I?"
"You sure did, squirt! Don't you worry!" On cue, Barry Melrose and Ron Duguay swoop and gyrate down the grand staircase as if they were plucked straight out of Gone With the Wind. The two geezers are a spray tan barbecued blur of mullet, perm, frizz, 'stache, sideburns, chesthair, wint-o-green veneers, medallions, pinky rings, belly button lint and body spray. It's Hallowe'en 2011 but the house has instantly flashed back to 1978.
"Congratulations, young Skin!" Barry bellows. "Blow out your candles. You have done a fine job crafting your naughty nurse costume for Hallowe'en. I am honored to present you with Cherry Clown!"
You can keep him for the whole year, until next Hallowe'en when you have to return him to his location or else you'll have to pay for him..."
Ron is shaking his head at Skin. "Can you say 'RIP OFF?' I knew you could! I've got a much better prize for you! How about a night on the town with me? We can maybe take a carriage ride through Central Park after a candlelit dinner..."
But Brendan Brendan Brendan cuts him off before he can finish: "The Department of Player Safety has decided to suspend Jeff Skinner's Best Costume Prizes for the following reasons: 1) Cherry Clown has a proven supplementary discipline history for playing inappropriate practical jokes on underage players; 2) Barry Melrose has a documented supplementary discipline history of overdosing on Just For Men; 3) Ron Duguay has a demonstrated supplementary discipline history of obsessive compulsive scalp picking; 4) ...... ...... ......"
"Honey, Honey. Wake up. You had a nightmare..." Trick or Treat Brendan Brendan Brendan. It's only Hallowe'en, but you're still stuck in kindergarten.