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I Hate Scoring Goals

Hey MHH faithful,

I've spent the last 3 minutes writing the opening to a moving play based on a very true (and very sad) story. I was wondering if I could get some assistance from you, the readers, to help flesh this puppy out into an epic tale that we can perform on Thursday night in our living rooms and local Denver bars to see if we can't perhaps break a current goal scoring void created by several Avalanche players by calling them out with a little humor - and nothing but love. The "conclusion" from the comments section with the most recs by 5pm Mountain will be re-posted on the front page as the ending to this classy post. And.......ACTION! [edit: Markopolo is the winner! Thank you to all who participated, read, laughed, or rolled their eyes in elitist disgust.]

"I HATE SCORING GOALS", a pretty good play by MHH writers and readers.

Erik and Cody, dressed like two schmucks from a Jane Austen novel, saunter up to the street corner, waiting for a carriage. Erik presents his hand.

Erik: "Pleased to make your acquaintance. My Name is Erik Johnson, of the Minnesotan Johnsons. I hate scoring goals."

Cody takes Erik's hand and shakes it like a true gentlemen.

Cody: "Nice to meet you Erik, My name is Cody McLeod. You may call me Mr. McLeod. I too dislike putting pucks in nets. I find in grotesquely improper."

Erik: "Charmed I'm sure. However, I assure you that I dislike scoring goals even more than thee, Mr. McLeod. It is a vile nuisance and I shall not take part of it."

Cody: "I protest good sir. I have played 24 NHL games this year, and have yet to score a goal. So clearly, I detest scoring more than thee. I have yet to find it agreeable, and doubt very much that I should find otherwise."

Erik: "Be still Cody Mac! I have suited up for 26 contests and have yet to find twine, so obviously, it is I who hate scoring goals all the more!

A carriage pulls to a stop in front of the two gentlemen, driven by the nymph Brandon Yip.

Yip: "Hiya fellars! Gee, what yous guys talkin' 'bout?"

Erik: "Silence young squire and get thee hence!"

Cody: "And bring us forth some of thine delicious nachos!"

Yip tucks his tail and pilots his carriage away down healthy scratch Avenue.

Cody: "Mr Johnson, I take exception! I declare that you have 10 points on the season - all assists - so clearly you like goals, you simply prefer to help other people to score them as opposed to yourself - which is simply abhorrent. I for one loathe goal scoring so much that I've only helped on one tally - and it was during a time of a momentary lapse of good judgment to which I have since seen the reverend mother and been fully washed clean."

Erik: "Ha. Ha. HAH! I slappeth mine knee at thee! If you will take notice of my team worst plus/minus -14, you will find that I detest scoring goals so much, that I do all I can to make sure my entire team does not score goals! Mr McLeod, you have a -2, which may as well be a hat trick in my book!"

Cody: "What, forsooth, are you insinuating?"

Erik points his finger as his voice raises several octaves to the pitch of a 6 year-old school girl.


Cody: "I oppose any such label. I play minimal minutes on the 4th line, have only taken 14 shots all year, and have even been a healthy scratch, so obviously, I'm doing nothing to even attempt to score a goal!!"

Erik: "Goal lover."

Cody: "You know, my friends used to call me "Highlander" - and can there can be only one!"

Cody draws his blade and Erik dodges the sabre thrust. However, in doing so, he trips on a golf cart, and is gone for the rest of the season with a blown ego knee.

Greg Sherman, watching the entire events unfold, shoots himself in the head.