French was by on the weekend. He said we really outta go out and see a Hockey Game. I was thinking NHL - Major Junior, no, French and I went to see a couple of Junior B teams smash it out. I was reluctant, but what the hell?
We downed a few pints and went down to the rink. Cumberland was playing Rockland. We sat down at the Rockland end; even though we were in Cumberland.
He kept a keen eye on the Rockland team. We went out at the intermission and snagged another pint. He told me to watch number 13 during the next period.
13 was good; he'd come up the ice pound a few heavy checks, then blast shots from the point.
At the next intermission we went out to the car for beers again; as per tradition. I said to French: "the kid plays exactly like you, he even skates like you". French replied: "That's because that is my kid".
My can of beer slipped out of my hand and exploded in a frothy bomb: "Dude, you have a kid"?
"Yep now let's go watch the last period".
Turns out an old flame of his turned up back in town: this super cute french girl that he dated about 17 years ago called him up and gave him the news.
We went back in to see the end of the game. This time we were both huge Rockland fans and we were cheering hard for number 13 - or Little French as I was calling him.
3 comments:
Live on, Little French!! Good work. Keep 'em comin' on and off the ice.
I guess he slipped one past the goalie.
It's not hard to imagine French playing a little slap and tickle with those Rockland/Cumberland girls. Sounds like he let one have a taste of his whistle dog.
HP
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