Thanksgiving was good to the Americans. After feasting on mashed potatoes and cold, refreshing pilsners over the long weekend they were in high spirits and fully carb-loaded, ready to take on whatever Monday could throw at them. A day back at the grind and a few more of those St. Louis brews were in order. The squad proceeded to enjoy more than enough beers for a Monday night and decided to drunkenly follow a bearded man in a suit and trench coat, suspected to be Ryan Allen, to the doors of Viking Ice Arena. The man, who was clearly Ryan Allen, gave a surprising yet glorious yodel to the woman at the concession stand and was granted two more buckets of beer and passage into the ice rink.
To the Americans’ delight, the rink was packed with beer league hockey teams. “We drink beer and play hockey!”, trumpeted Hetes, “…and we’re damn good at it I might add!” A quick look around and the Americans were confident they could take on any team there. One team in particular piqued the interest of Manny – “Let’s play those fuckheads.” He pointed to the other end of the rink where the North Stars of Germany were laying waste to the Canadian Nordiques. The game schedule showed that the Stars had won their past nine games. Brauny chimed in, “They look cocky as hell, I bet we can take’m down”.
Gamemaster Panty Dropper slated the matchup and before they knew it the Americans were facing off against the Stars. They had no doubt they could be the heroes their homeland expected them to be. Unfortunately, they were all shit-faced and full of mostly liquid courage. The leader of the Stars, Troy von Wolfhautto, roared with laughter as the Americans stumbled around the ice. “You zilly Americans… sink you are sooo good at hockey. You von’t be beating us today! I have azzembled ze greatest team to ever exist! Ve only have vone veakness: me, ze goalie. But you will not even have a chance!”
The game started and at first it looked like the Americans would put up a fight, remaining scoreless after a period. Neither team was letting up. That didn’t last long however as the taunting from Troy’s younger brother, Tye von Wolfhautto, had begun to put holes in the Americans’ metaphorical sails. “You call zat a line-up? Zat iz so preciouz. I vremember my first hockey game”, he pestered. It wasn’t long before the piss drunk Americans got belligerent. Several trips to the penalty box later and the Stars were up 2-0.
By this point, Hetes had been drinking for hours and desperately needed to take a leak. The speedy Star Kapitän Jack Serda was barreling into the Americans’ zone with the puck but Hetes couldn’t wait any longer. He took off for the door. He knew something had to be done to stop the goal though, so he jabbed at the puck on his way out. It didn’t work and he just ended up passing out drunk on the ice. Stars 3 – Americans 0.
The North Stars were elated and began going for fancy-schmancy trick shots, netting a wrap-around, a bounce shot, and even one off an American’s stick. Somehow, the Americans were able to sober up for a moment and score one for the Red, White, and Blue but it was too little, too late. At the final buzzer, the Stars had up-ended the Americans 7-1 and completed their second world tour. “See you in five veeks, you facking poosies”, Stars’ defensemen Brandt Willemschtoff jabbed in the hand-shake line. The Americans retreated to the locker room where they vowed to spend the next month practicing high-up in the Alps and drinking only ram’s piss flavored Gatorade.
Expect to hear more on this the next time these world war rivals go head-to-head. Reporting live from Munich, this is Reihen Garin Adelhard Schniedelwichsen signing off.
