Every once in a while a story comes to us that requires a collaboration of writing and effort. A story that needs some Surly & Scribe. This is such a story and it starts with a picture.
A picture can be worth many words. Some, a thousand. Others, less.
Once in a while a picture needs just one.
This wasn’t an accident.
Misfortune did not lend a hand.
No Kings’ fan would do as such.
No Kings’ fan did.
What you just saw was evidence that Corey Perry is scum…in this case, of the slack wearing, pink button down shirt variety who showed up with fellow Duck, Joffrey Lupul, to a Kings fan’s Halloween party in Orange County. That Kings’ fan is one of our readers, Russell, who was kind enough to bring us the events and supply us with the photos of the party below.
I can hear you asking…Corey Perry? That one? Yes. This one…
If you are feeling ill, take a moment and come back. It’s about to get worse…
Yes, that one…of the currently irrelevant Anaheim Ducks. No, those weren’t from the party. Try to keep up.
Our story begins when the whitewashed tomb, the punk who fancies himself a pugilist, the hack of a hockey player who represents all that we loathe about an Anaheim team destined for a world of suck for years to come appeared this past Saturday night at Russell’s Halloween bash.
The pink clad sphincter brought his mate, Joffrey Lupul, unimaginatively dressed as the “shake-weight” guy. They toted female friends. When each arrived and were introduced to Russell, he did as we would have. He reminded ghastly and guest that he is a Kings’ fan…and he walked away. Pink Perry was perturbed. Irritants get dejected when they are not felt, lash out should the only thing they do well, annoy, go unnoticed. As Pink strolled through the living room, he took the bobblehead dedicated to our 17, Superman Wayne Simmonds, from the mantle piece. Faced with that which is more venerable than he, Pink spiked the bobblehead off a stone on the fireplace. Wayne’s head came off.
Simmonds is a titan. His visage demands equal respect to the flesh. The crown deserves more. Disturbances such as this rattle the marrow.
Pink was confronted. He was told of the disrespect he had shown for Wayne’s game though Russell’s time would be better spent to remind a fairy that it litters dust or a dog of its worms. Pink then took the broken head and punted it into the neighbor’s yard with the remark “that’s what I think of his game.”
That mouth you see on TV, shooting off with gutless abandon whenever a cameraman ruins his lens with an image of Pink persists off the rink. A shoe from a Duck to the head of King, plastic or otherwise, conjures thoughts of wounds from nave to breast, throat to brain and skin that need be rearranged.
Russell and those at the party let Pink know that they intended to get this story out.
So that’s Lupul’s version of a costume. It’s almost as ridiculous as the Duck jersey. If you look closely at the picture, you will see Pink in the back. Here is another.
Russell foreshadowed to Pink, “when Wayne smashes your face into the boards next week, you will know why!” He then promptly put on his Kings’ colors, a Kopitar jersey, while his cousin dawned that of Simmonds. They walked past the princesses and taunted them with our 8-3 record and that of their own, to each of their heightened aggravation on display.
Fret not for the bobblehead. Russell has ordered another to replace that which was assaulted. It shall take its place again beside Kopitar and Smyth on the very same mantel piece.
To Perry we say, you have committed an act more offensive than the day your face exited your mother’s womb.
To Lupul we ask…do you even play hockey any more or just crash parties with Pink and random(s)?
It matters not, for revenge is a dish best served on ice.
Show your love to our reader and Kings’ fan, Russell!
The next time the Ducks waltz into Staples Center or you brave the sinkhole that is theirs, let Perry know that you know.
Always and forever!