The LA Kings get in a workout before their game against the Chicago Blackhawks. Matt Greene grunts his way through a set of squat cleans. Jonathan Quick stretches his hamstrings in the corner so deeply that ballerinas would be jealous. Jarret Stoll curls his biceps, planted in front of the mirror. Is he admiring his muscle, or his mohawk? Probably both.
The rest of the players move from station to station, thinking about the early game time and wondering how much earlier than 7:30pm a game has to start for the afternoon curse to go into effect.
Trevor Lewis spots Mike Richards at the bench press.
Lewis: 11, and 12. Nice set, Mike. My turn.
[Richards doesn’t stop]
Richards: 13. 14.
Lewis: Mike, hey come on now.
Richards: 15. 16.
Lewis: Alright, I guess a few more is good. I like it when we push each other.
Richards: 17. 17. 17!
Lewis: What? Stop it man, that’s like 20, you’re going to hurt yourself.
Richards: 17! 17! Seven [big roar] TEEN!
[Lewis grabs the barbell at the top and holds it. Richards catches Trevor’s eyes]
Richards: What the hell man?
Lewis: It’s my turn, Mike. I need you to spot me.
[Richards bounces up with a “Woo!”. Lewis lies down, grabs the barbell and starts lifting. Richards cheers him on, but he’s got one eye on the door.]
Lewis: 1. Ow. 2. Ow. Thr….. Ee! Ow.
Richards: Come on, you can do this, I’ve got you.
[John Stevens comes bursting through the door.]
Stevens: He’s here! He’s here he’s here he’s here!
[Richards’ eyes widen and he bounces over to Stevens. The air is thrown out of Lewis’ lungs by the barbell now pinned to his throat.]
Richards: Don’t fuck with me John, he’s really here?
[Stevens nods stupidly]
Richards: Oh boy oh boy oh boy!
[Lombardi rushes in.]
Lombardi: I heard a car, is he here?
[Stevens and Richards nod stupidly. Dean shares their giant, goofy grins.]
Lombardi: Oh boy oh boy oh boy!
Richards/Stevens/Lombardi: Oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy!!!
[Footsteps clink down the hallway. The three fall silent and lean forward. Clink, clink. Closer and closer. They all draw in a deep breath. Clink, clink. They hold it. A loud cough, followed by a retch and a spit echo just outside the door. They all release a sigh of relief.]
Richards: It’s him.
[Jeff Carter walks in, sunglasses hang loosely from his ears. Metal studs on his belt barely hold up his jeans].
[Richards leaps to embraces his tall friend.]
Richards: Jeff, you’re finally here!
Carter: [burping in Richards’ ear] Hey hey, it’s good to see you too bud, but take it easy. I just woke up.
Lombardi: It’s 9am…
Carter: 9? Oh Christ, that’s right. I’m still on Columbus time. It’s really early.
Richards: [Letting go and stepping back] It’s so good to see you. Look at you, you haven’t changed a bit.
Carter: It’s only been a few months dude.
Richards: Only been a few… We spent every day together for 6 years and it’s ‘only a few months’? What did they do to you in Columbus?
Carter: Terrible things, Mikey. Terrible things. Ever hear of sensory deprivation? Well the Nationwide Arena is like one giant suspended water tank. Over half a season there and I didn’t hear a thing from the ice, not one fucking thing.
Richards: Your poor guy.
[Stevens cuts in between them.]
Stevens: OK I can’t take it anymore, I’m too excited. Jeff, let me introduce you to the guys.
Carter: Where’s the head coach, Sutter?
Stevens: Tanning leather out back, you’ll meet him later. Come on.
[Stevens takes the crook of Carter’s arm and walks him around the weight room.]
Stevens: So you already know Mike [Mike smiles]. This is Dwight King [King nods]. You’ll be on his line tonight, with Mike. Oh, and this is Jordan Nolan, you’ll play on his line too. [Carter raises and eyebrow, Nolan smirks]. And this is Anze, [Anze reaches out a hand] he was the number 1 cent- [Kopi lowers his hand] I mean is the number one… He plays good defense but you’ll get to play with him too. And this is Williams, he is the pretty boy.
[Carter scowls at Stevens]
Stevens: Was. Was the pretty boy. Speaking of boys, this is Richardson and that’s Mitchell and Greene’s over there and oh, oh, oh and this is Stoll, pass him the puck he can shoot, great in shootouts. And that’s Bernier, the backup goalie/starting towel boy. Clifford, ooooooh Kyle Clifford, he’s over there. [They walk over to Kyle, who is standing with his face three inches from the wall, completely motionless]. Kyle. [he doesn’t move]. Kyle. Kyle kylekylekylekylekyleKYYYYYLE!
Lombardi: Here boy! [blows a dog whistle]
[Clifford turns and looks at Carter.]
Clifford: Want to fight?
Clifford returns to staring at the wall.
Carter [to Richards]: What is he doing?
Richards: Working out. The wall moves away about an inch a day. Start of the season this room was a closet.
Stevens: Drew? Where’s Drew? Oh there you are. Drew come meet Jeff.
[Drew Doughty is in the hot tub, wearing sunglasses. He climbs out of the tub and saunters over to Carter, naked. Doughty tips down his sunglasses. Carter tips down his. Doughty inclines towards his penis. Carter’s eyes drop. They look back in each other’s eyes and both push their sunglasses back up to their faces. Doughty saunters back over to the hot tub.]
Stevens: Who else, who else? Oh, there’s Gagne.
Carter: I remember Gags. Hey, Gags!
[Gagne is riding a stationary bike, wearing headphones. Carter walks over and pulls the headphones off his ears. Enya blares out into the room. Gagne looks up and scrambles to turn off the music.]
Gagne: Hey, kid, welcome.
Carter: Was that Enya?
Gagne: No. Yes. Doctor’s orders. Concussions are like that. Go away, glad to have you on the team.
Richards: That’s just about everyone.
Carter: What about Penner?
Richards: … But… Jeff, you already met Penner. You bumped into him like four times.
Carter: I did?
Richards: You did.
Richards: OK, I know that’s not everybody, but there’s not much of a point in meeting Brown or Fraser. I can’t wait any longer.
[Lombardi perks up with anticipation. Richards pulls out a ring. Carter smiles, reaches into his pocket and pulls out a matching ring. They slip them on their fingers and touch them at the center of the room.]
Richards/Carter: Wonderphilly powers, ACTIVATE!
[A swirling orange light emanates from the rings and envelops the room. Lombardi looks to the heavens, fists raised triumphantly.]
The light flashes a blinding white and slowly subsides. Dean looks around and bats his eyes as his pupils adjust. He is on a beach, an orange mimosa in his hand. Carter and Richards are making out with hot blonde twin sisters and high-fiving each other while Stevens fans them with a giant feather. The sound of the ocean hides another softer sound. Lombardi turns, through the window of a nearby house he sees an LA Kings game on TV. He sips his mimosa and looks down into his other hand. There’s a note. It says.
“Enjoy your ‘vacation’ – Tim”
He looks all around, nothing but beaches and ocean in all directions. Out on the water he sees something floating. Surfers. No. Not surfers. It’s… Mike Cammalleri.
Categories: Surly & Scribe Skits