Friday, 3 May 2013

The Ovechkurian Candidate

It's terrible that the Penguins had to start their first game without Captain Sidney Crosby, and I'm glad to hear that he's returning to the lineup tonight. Although it's unpopular to blame people when injuries to star players occur, I think that the management of the Penguins must bear the blame for the loss of Crosby. After reviewing this unofficial, leaked transcript from a psychological evaluation, you might agree that the franchise was forewarned that Crosby would be injured by teammate Brooks Orpik.

Brooks Orpik sits in an examination room. Dr. Mallard enters.

Dr. Mallard (Seating himself): How are you today, Brooks?

Brooks Orpik: Fine.

Dr. Mallard: Today we're going to do some word-association tests. Please relax, clear your mind, and say
the first thing that you think of when I say the following words. Do you understand?

Brooks Orpik: Yeah, okay. Shoot.

Dr. Mallard: Day.

Brooks Orpik: Night.

Dr. Mallard: Cat.

Brooks Orpik: Dog.

Dr. Mallard: Great.

Brooks Orpik: Eight.

Dr. Mallard: Crease.

Brooks Orpick: Face.

Dr. Mallard pauses to writing something down.

Dr. Mallard: Fire.

Brooks Orpik: Water.

Dr. Mallard: Shootout.

Brooks Orpik: Boring.

Dr. Mallard: Cup.

Brooks Orpik: Caps.

Dr. Mallard: Trophy.

Brooks Orpik: Gagarin

Dr. Mallard: Maim.

Brooks Orpik: Captain.

Dr. Mallard begins furiously writing notes.

Dr. Mallard: Okay, last round. Art.

Brooks Orpik: Ale.

Dr. Mallard: Hart.

Brooks Orpik: Heck.

Dr. Mallard: Smythe.

Brooks Orpik: Sand.

Dr. Mallard: Rocket.

Brooks Orpik: Er . . . oh, fetch!

Dr. Mallard: Selke.

Brooks Orpik: Kin.

Dr. Mallard (under his breath): Ale-hec-sand-er-oh-fetch-kin? (gasps).

Dr. Mallard scribbles something quickly.

Dr. Mallard: Jaw.

Brooks Orpik: Target.

Dr. Mallard: Trapezoid.

Brooks Orpik: Unnecessary. Wait, no. Um, point-of-attack.

Dr. Mallard: Net.

Brooks Orpik: Teeth.

Dr. Mallard: Goalie.

Brooks Orpik: Sidney Crosby.

Dr. Mallard frantically writes as many notes as possible before Orpik notices the long pause between words.

Brooks Orpik: Anything else?

Dr. Mallard: No, that will do. Please send in Coach Bylsma on your way out.

Orpik exits. Pause. Bylsma enters.

Dan Bylsma: So, do you know why he's having nightmares about killing his teammates?

Dr. Mallard: I'm only beginning to understand. I think his brain has been programmed to make some sort of             attack when he sees the shape of a trapezoid, but I need more time to determine what that attack  might be in order to uproot the implanted suggestion from his subconscious. Can you leave him with me for a few more days? I have prepared medical papers to put him on the IR.

Dan Bylsma: No we can't spare him tonight against the Islanders. You can examine him again later.

Dr. Mallard: Wait--if you look at Brooks' chart you'll see there appears to be a conspiracy--

Bylsma disregards Dr. Mallard and hurries out of the room.

Dr. Mallard (Calling after Bylsma): Damn it, Dan. His brain has not only been washed, as they say. It has been dry-cleaned!


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