2minsforslashing | Appeasing the Hockey Gods

Title: Appeasing the Hockey Gods
Characters: Marc Savard, Vladimir Sobotka, Zdeno Chara and various and sundry Boston Bruins
Rating: PG
Time: October 2008
Summary: The Bruins are playing horrible. Something must be done to appease the Hockey Gods.
Author's note: Crack!fic to celebrate Halloween. ;-)
Disclaimer: Absolutely positively fictional.

The Bruins filed meekly, shamefaced to a man, into the Boston locker room after an absolute stinkeroo of a first period against the Atlanta Thrashers. Vladimir Sobotka, the only player who hadn't stunk up the Garden, mainly because he'd been sitting in the stands as a healthy scratch (looking absolutely smashing in a light gray suit, blue shirt and dark blue tie), was the last into the room, slipping in inconspicously and sitting down in a corner.

"Men," coach Claude Julien said, turning and locking the door behind him. "That was unacceptable."

Head nods all around. "You're absolutely correct, sir," said Andrew Ference. "What's to be done about it?"

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," Julien said gravely. "We all know that the city of Boston will not tolerate a loser. I'm afraid this calls for the ultimate sacrifice. Zdeno?"

Chara nodded and stood up. "The ultimate team sacrifice must be offered to the Hockey Gods. Human sacrifice."

The players gasped. "NO!" cried Marc Savard. "Anything but that! Can't we kill an opponent instead?"

"Lucic tried that the other night," Julien said. "Unfortunately that one piece of glass meant for Van Ryn's neck missed. Good try, though, Milan."

"So who's to be sacrificed?" Tim Thomas asked, smug in the knowledge that he was safe.

"The criteria must be met," Chara intoned, "and stop looking so smug in your knowledge, Thomas."

The Bruins captain drew himself up to his full, frightening height and thickened his accent. "There are four criteria--"

"Why are you thickening your accent?" Savard demanded.

"Because it sounds creepier. Shut up," Chara said. "The four criteria are--"

"I don't think it sounds creepier," David Krejci said. "By the way, Vladdie, nice suit."

"Thanks," Sobotka said. "There's this great tailor in Prague..."

"A-HEM!" Chara said. "The four criteria are:

Number One: Good player
Number Two: Good-looking player
Number Three: Young player
Number Four: Virgin player

Of course, the last one is more of a guideline than a hard and fast rule."

Marco Sturm stood up. "So according to the criteria, we have five possiblities: Lucic, Krejci, Bergeron, Wheeler and Sobotka, who I must say looks absolutely smashing in his light gray suit."

"Hey!" Phil Kessel exclaimed. "What about me? OW!" he cried, as Chara kicked him in the leg.

"Not good-looking enough," Sturm said.

"You think LUCIC is good-looking enough?" Kessel asked. "With that nose? And what about Stuart?"

"Stuey does possess a charming smile and nice eyes, but let's be serious, he's got an ass bigger than a Mack truck," said Ference. "I'd vote Sobotka myself. For one thing, he looks absolutely smashing in that light gray suit."

"But he's not a virgin!" Savard shouted, as every head turned his way.

"How do you know?" Aaron Ward demanded.

"I, er, well, look at him! Does he look like a virgin to you?"

"I wouldn't know, I don't know what a virgin looks like. What about Wheels?"

"You can't go through three years of college and come out a virgin," Sturm said.

"He went to Minnesota!" Kessel shouted. "Why do you think I left after one year?"

"Are you a virgin, Blake?" Chara inquired. Wheeler shook his head. "I've been in Boston a month, sir. Too late."

Chara shrugged. "Well, it IS only a guideline. Virginal hockey players are rarer than cheerful Russians. And nobody say Ovechkin. He's an exception."

Julien cleared his throat impatiently. "We've got to make a decision here soon. Time is running out."

"Will we bury the body as usual, under the ice?" Sturm asked.

"Of course," Chara said. "Why do you think they messed up the face-off lines? We suspected this would be necessary." He looked around the room, his eyes finally lighting on Sobotka. "I do think Vladimir is the best choice. A good player, has moved up and down from Providence so his disappearance would be less suspect, and besides, he looks absolutely smashing in that light gray suit. The Hockey Gods favor cuteness above all."

"The Hockey Gods are teen-age girls?" Lucic asked. "That figures."

"I hereby offer myself as a substitute for Vladimir," Savard said, standing up and proffering his stick to Chara, in the accepted and proscribed manner. "I'm good, and I'm cute. That's two out of four."

"Why are you doing this, Marc?" Chara stepped over and whispered in his ear. "Surely we can find you another Czech somewhere in the Bruins system."

"I DEMAND my sacrifice be accepted," Marc said, loudly.

"NOT accepted," Chara said, louder. "You're too old, you're not cute enough -- for one thing, that haircut is the pits -- and besides, you yap too much on the ice."

"I do not!" Savard said, loudest. "I only talk when somebody ELSE isn't standing up for me!"

"Why, you little..." Chara grabbed the front of Savard's jersey and lifted him off his skates. Marc smiled, waiting for the death blow. But at that moment, the Garden horn sounded, summoning the players back onto the ice. Julien groaned. "Too late."

"Not quite." Chara dropped Savard with a thump and turned to Sobotka. "Vladimir, come here," he ordered. Sobotka gulped, stood up, and made his way over to Chara as his teammates stood in a circle around him. "Give me that, Doug," the Bruins captain grabbed a fresh sheet of paper off the assistant coach's clipboard. "Grab this, Vladdie."

The young Czech obeyed, and his finger slipped along the edge of the paper. A spot of blood oozed out. "Ouch!" he said.

"Good enough! The Hockey Gods are appeased!" Chara intoned.

The Bruins applauded and headed back out onto the ice, where they played great and beat the Thrashers 5-4. Vladimir sat in the stands and watched, sucking his finger, still looking absolutely smashing in his light grey suit.

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xsavedbygracex.livejournal.com

Lmfao. That made my night.

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