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| Drifting into Deep Waters; Prequel to Moon Tears | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: February 2, 2012, 4:20 pm (7,283 Views) | |
| Lucifer's Angel | May 7, 2012, 2:53 pm Post #106 |
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Heavy Metal Seanchai
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Chapter 39 "Kris, you better play good in front of the hometown crowd tonight", teased Jordan as they left the ice after the morning skate. Kris just laughed as he walked off the ice and onto the carpet towards the locker room. "Oui, mon ami Nederlandais. It's Marc and Max too, I swear everytime a team plays in Quebec the French guys' families all show up. Remember when Phillipe Boucher was on the team and his entire family would show up all the way from Sainte-Apolllinaire in the sticks? How many relatives of his showed up?", laughed Jordan. "I think the whole damn town showed up, that's one small town in the fucking boonies. Oh well, I reckon everyone in Quebec knows someone who plays here", said Kris with a shrug. He stripped off his uniform and took a quick shower before changing into jeans and a black Master of Puppets shirt, a black Pirates hat on his still-wet hair. Kris followed the rest of the team onto the bus back to the hotel, knowing that Christine was busy operating her day care out of the house and the idea of trying to nap with a bunch of kids downstairs not an appealing one. "Tanger, your Mom has her day care business going?", asked James. "Oui, Nailer. She runs a day care out of her house and it's going to be loud with all the kids, Andre and Hughette love it. Mom went back to school when I started kindergarten and got her degree in Early Childhood Education and she's been running a day care at home since I was nine, I used to help her some when I was in high school after school and during the summers when I was home from Val D'Or. It's going to be loud with all the kids so I'm crashing at my room at the hotel, I can't sleep otherwise", said Kris. "Is that legal to have day care in your house?", asked Evgeni. "Oui, Geno. My mom has a degree in early childhood education and she has a license and all, it's legal as long as you meet certain requirements like not having too many kids and feeding them and making sure the house is safe, a lot of people do that. The kids love her and I used to help her out when I was home in the summer from Val D'Or", replied Kris. "We not have that when I was growing up in Magnitogorsk, my father's factory have day care for kids but was no good. It was a room in the basement and the old lady would yell a lot at us, we have porridge for lunch and she get mad if we make noise. Your Mom day care not like that?", asked Evgeni, a touch of envy in his voice. "Non, Geno. That sounds awful and that would be illegal in the states or in Canada. Mom's day care is nice, the kids play in the parlor and watch movies and do stuff like finger painting or modeling with clay, she cooks them lunch and sometimes they go to the park and stuff. It's really good, maybe I can take you to meet the kids", said Kris. The bus arrived at the Hyatt Regency Montreal as Kris followed his teammates off the bus and walked inside. His legs felt heavy after all the skating this afternoon and he was looking forward to his afternoon nap, knowing he had to rest before the game tonight at Bell Centre. He went upstairs to his room and barely glanced around before taking the sheets off the bed and turning off the ringer on his phone and taking the room phone off the hook, stripping down to his boxers and falling asleep almost immediately... Kris smiled to himself as he felt completely weightless as though he were on a cloud, everything light and calm and noiseless. He should have been startled when he opened his eyes and saw that he was surrounded by fluffy clouds with the consistency of cotton candy but he wasn't at all shocked, an eerie sense of calm enveloping him. I know I'm not dead, I got the game tonight, he thought sardonically. The clouds parted suddenly and he was now surprised to find himself on what appeared to be a suburban street of neat little houses and lined with trees and neat lawns with flower beds in bloom, everything slightly paler than normal like being washed through a pastel filter. Kris was very confused and wondered why he was here, the houses all modest one or two story brick and wooden houses not unlike the ones he had seen on his street growing up. It was eerily quiet as there didn't appear to be anyone around, no sounds of lawn mowers or children playing or riding bicycles as he remembered from his own childhood as a vague sense of unease came over him. He could have fainted if he was capable of when the door of a blue wooden house with red and yellow tulips planted outside opened, a head of curly dark hair peeking through. Kris really felt faint when he recognized Luc as his friend smiled at him in welcome, opening the door wider and beckoning him inside. He followed Luc inside as his legs felt heavy and cement-like, his heart pounding furiously and feeling very light-headed. "Bonjour, mon ami Quebecois", he said cheerfully as he embraced him. Kris could barely nod in acknowledgment and was surprised that Luc didn't feel cold like he had assumed all ghosts did, wondering briefly if he was really dead now. Luc gave him a mischievous smile, dressed like always in jeans and a Pantera shirt with the Great Southern Trendkill album cover, his brown eyes dancing with amusement. "Luc, am I dead?", he asked calmly. Luc just laughed and shook his head. "Non, mon ami Quebecois. You are just here for a visit", he replied. "A visit? Where am I?", he asked. "Kris, do you remember anything from Sunday School?", asked Luc. "A bit, why?", he asked. "This is sort of like Purgatory, we're people with unfinished business and we're waiting", he said with a shrug. Kris tried to think about this as he heard footsteps coming down the stairs, turning over in that direction as he got another shock. "Hello, you must be Kris, Luc's comrade and friend", said the young blond man with a smile, speaking with a heavy Russian accent. "You're Alexei Cherepanov", he said, recognizing the teenage Russian who had a heart attack and died during a game. "Da, and you are Kris Letang. Welcome", said Alexei as he came over and shook his hand. Alexei was tall and muscular but slim, his dark blond hair slightly long and his blue eyes kind. He wore jeans and a dark blue t-shirt and a New York Rangers baseball cap that obscured slightly his heavy-featured Slavic face with its high cheekbones and almond-shaped blue eyes. "Wow, we have visitors now", said a voice with a heavy Canadian accident. Kris was still processing all that had just happened when he saw Bill Barilko emerge from the basement, the sight not as shocking as it would have been just a few minutes ago. He had seen Barilko's picture numerous times in black and white as he had scored the goal that won the 1951 Stanley Cup for the Toronto Maple Leafs, but here he was in color like any other person. He was tall and muscular with golden blond hair slicked back with a generous amount of gel and merry pale blue eyes, dressed in a retro style of gray slacks and a short-sleeved white button down shirt that looked like something guys would wear to lounge about in the 50's. "Luc, tell me if I am really dead or not", he chuckled weakly. Luc just laughed and led him over to the couch as Alexei went into the kitchen and came back with a bottle of Blackberry Stoli and four glasses. "Non, you are dreaming, I saw you take your afternoon nap at the hotel in Montreal. I was only on the Canucks for a month and I loved those hotels, so much nicer than those dumps in Juniors", he laughed as Alexei poured everyone a generous measure of the vodka. Kris looked dubiously at the clear fruit vodka. "Drink it, you're not Persephone and going to get stuck here if you drink it", said Bill. Kris took a deep breath and drank it, the strong vodka with a hint of fruit tasting real enough. "What am I doing here, unless you guys want a bit of fun", he chuckled weakly. "Kris, what do you think this is?", asked Luc. "Heaven, Purgatory? I haven't gone to church in years so I'm rusty with this stuff", he chuckled dryly. "It is sort of like purgatory, this is like a waiting station for people with unfinished business", said Alexei. "What's that? What do you guys do?", he asked. "Sol Duga got us here, they're an organization of these old Viking immortal guys who help people like us. They get people who can do it to go back in time and prevent bad stuff from happening, we're waiting for everything to clear up so we can move on", said Bill as he poured them more vodka. "What does this have to do with me?", asked Kris. The three men all looked at each other. "We can't tell you yet, Kris. When the time is right, you'll know everything. You got the playoffs and you'll know afterwards", said Luc. "Luc, what's it like being here?", he asked. He just shrugged and drank some vodka. "I guess it's like heaven, but not with the pearly gates and clouds and angels and stuff. We get everything nice and we just chill, all the other houses have people who have something in common and live together", he said. "Do you talk with your Mom and Charlene, they'd love to hear from you", said Kris. "Non, mon ami Quebecois. We're not supposed to contact our relatives because Sol Duga is supposed to be a secret, lucky Burr was able to keep his mouth shut", said Luc. "You saw when I told him about Marie's dad?", he asked. "Yeah, we saw it with that Burrows fellow. Luc was good friends with him and he's a cool guy, but I think that's why they want you, your girl's old man is one of us", laughed Bill. "What, he's not dead?", asked Kris. "He's not dead, he's very much alive and so is your girl. Trust me, that's the one thing that stinks about this, I couldn't contact my folks or my girl back in Timmins after the plane crash, and they couldn't find the damn plane either", said Bill with a dry chuckle. Kris frowned, remembering how Barilko's plane had gone down in the forests of northern Canada and no one had found it for over twelve years. "What was that like?", he asked. "You know how you have a dumb idea and do it anyways? My friend and the pilot had gone fishing all the way up in Hudson Bay and we had all this fish in the pontoons, we wanted to get home before the fish spoiled and the radio said there was a big storm. The pilot didn't think it was a big deal and since it was only a short plane ride, we took off. I had a bad feeling but I didn't want the fish to rot so I went, when it started falling I felt kinda calm, you know? It was like seeing everything in slow motion and then nothing, I didn't feel a damn thing after wards. You know, the Leafs won their next cup when they found the damn plane, maybe it was a sign", he said thoughtfully. Kris could just nod. He had been creeped out when he had first of Barilko's accident as a kid, seeing the mangled plane and imagining the skeletons in the cockpit and Barilko's bony fingers wearing the Stanley Cup rings. "I know, but at least I didn't feel shit", said Bill dryly. "Luc, what was it like, did you feel anything?", he asked. "Non, Kris. I saw the truck coming and I couldn't get out of the way, I didn't feel anything either. I saw the funeral mass you guys had at the convention center, I didn't know I was that popular", he chuckled. "Luc, your Mom collapsed when she heard the news and Charlene downed an entire bottle of Crown and was hysterical when she heard the news", said Kris. Luc became serious. "I know that, Kris. But it's not like I could just go and talk to them, that's not allowed. All I could do is watch, of course I miss Mom and Charlene and you and everyone. How's Mom, and did Charlene graduate medical school?", he asked. "Your Mom is fine, she's dating this dude named Francois who owns a garage. And Charlene is working on her residency at hospital, she's working towards being a pediatric neurologist", he replied. "Tres magnifique, Kris. Francois is a great guy, he was the one who fixed my motorcycle. And Charlene always did have a soft spot for kids, I guess she wants to do neurology because of my head", he said dryly. Kris had to chuckle, Luc always did tend to see the sunny side of everything. "Neurology is a head doctor, right? I never had to go to one", said Bill. "Yeah, but now they're really careful about concussions, they send you to a neurologist for anything", said Kris. "I got my bell rung a few times and slept it off, I was fine. Guess the docs are better now", said Bill thoughtfully. Alexei poured everyone some more vodka. "I do wish I could tell my mother and my girlfriend that I am fine, but like Luc said I can't tell anyone. And you can't tell anyone about what happened to you here, you are going to be sent back and remember but you can't tell anyone. Everything will be explained later on", he said. "Is Dimebag here?", he asked out of curiousity. "Yeah, but he lives in another part of town. He lives in a house with Cliff Burton and John Bonham, but we haven't met him yet. They must have one heck of a band", chuckled Luc. "Whoa, unbelievable", murmured Kris. "Kristopher Letang, you are here drinking vodka with dead guys, don't say it's unbelievable", teased Luc. Kris finished his vodka and sat back on the couch. "Am I going to come back here?", he asked. "Not unless you get shot by a crazy person, dude. But if you do get summoned to do something, it's not here. You'll get more instructions. Au revoir, mon ami", said Luc as Kris felt everything gradually fade to black... Kris woke up from his nap as the room gradually came into focus, feeling the sheets below him on the bed and seeing the thin trickle of sunlight appear through the drawn curtains. He glanced down at his arm and traced the pattern of the tattoo and felt his rough fingertip against his skin, realizing he was very much alive. What the fuck was that, did I really see Luc and Bill Barilko and Alexei Cherepanov or was it just a really strange dream?, he wondered. Kris lay in bed for several more minutes and tried to make sense of the events he had just seen. He could still taste the vodka on his breath and see the men as they all sat on the couch, realizing he actually did see what happened. I couldn't tell the guys this, they would think I was really nuts. And what do they mean I'm going to learn more, and who the hell are these Sol Duga guys and what do they want?, he wondered as he got up from the bed to take a shower. |
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| The Cosmic Gerbil | May 9, 2012, 2:04 pm Post #107 |
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Forbidden Forest Ranger
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It's the vodka! It's a very dangerous drink to have...it does weird things to you I would like to have a beer with Cliff...that would be safer, lol)
Edited by The Cosmic Gerbil, May 9, 2012, 3:28 pm.
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| Lucifer's Angel | May 10, 2012, 9:59 am Post #108 |
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Heavy Metal Seanchai
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Chapter 40 "That's the last of the stuff, we are going to have some fun in the boonies, mes amis", said Kris as he loaded the last of the bags into his trunk. Jordan just laughed as he got in the driver's side of the black Trailblazer. "Yeah, it's going to be fun, we're going to go fishing and swimming on the lake and just chilling and drinking beer. I got to start training in a month but we'll have fun until then", he said. "Is there going to be enough room then? We never had that many guests at our house", said Ellen. "Yeah, we have a big house on the farm. We gotta, between two parents, four boys and the rest of our family we need it. My brothers and their women and the kids are going to be there, there's enough room if you guys are sharing them with your chicks", he laughed. "How practical, Jordan", said Marie dryly. "Just don't make any noise, my folks are solid Dutch farmers and they don't need to hear anything", he said. "It's a very nice place to visit, Ellen. Nice big farm near a lake and a lot of trees, and there are good liquor stores and the sauna in town", said Evgeni. "Sounds bloody wonderful, Zhenya. That sounds a wee bit like my family's part of Scotland, I am not a city girl", she giggled. Jordan started the engine as he drove away from the house. "We should be home on the farm by dinnertime, if there's no delays. Then again, the Thunder Bay airport isn't very busy anyways", he joked. Kris nodded as they drove to the airport. The Penguins had lost the second round to the Canadiens in six games in Montreal, sparing the Pittsburgh fans the indignity of losing on home ice. The weird dream with Luc and Alexei and Bill still weighed heavily on his mind and there were times he was worried he'd find himself back in that little house, this time permanently. But so far he was still here on planet Earth and happy for that, not wanting to leave everyone behind. And when Jordan suggested him and Evgeni and their women spend time with his family in Thunder Bay, Ontario, he had snapped at the chance to get away from Pittsburgh and Montreal and the crazy dream. Maybe these Sol Duga guys are going to contact me after our vacation, I need the rest, he thought dryly. Jordan parked the Trailblazer in the long-term lot as they took the shuttle to the terminal, the bus stopping at each lot to take on more passengers. They got off at the International Terminal and went inside as the check-in lane slowly moved around the room like a giant undulating snake. The clerk looked momentarily surprised but quickly checked them in, tossing the bags onto the conveyor belt headed towards their plane. Next up was the security as a bored-looking TSA agent looked at ID's and made people remove their shoes and empty their pockets, unpacking carryon bags as they went through them and people went past the metal detector and the x-ray. "Lucky they didn't do the random search thing, but it sucks for the sap who's gotta do that", said Jordan as he put his sneakers back on. They had barely left the security when their flight started boarding, the PA announcing that business and first-class passengers were to start boarding. Kris gallantly led Marie over to their seats and let her sit next to the window, knowing she would like the view. "Wait until we are really flying, it's better than anything. After this, you will never fly coach again, ma fille joli pays", he chuckled. Marie sank down into the plush leather chair, her mouth wide open as it felt just like a Barcalounger. "Plus, the headsets and the food and drinks are free, we are flying first class to Thunder Bay as well", he added. "Aye, 'tis true. Da and I always fly first class to Scotland, you canna fly overseas in coach", said Ellen. "I do that when I go to Russia because the trip is over twenty hours, it stupid to fly coach to Russia", said Evgeni. "Lucky I've never flown that far, going from Pittsburgh to the West Coast is far enough", said Jordan with a frown. "This is Air Canada Flight #611 to Lester Pearson Airport in Toronto, our flight is approximately two hours and 27 minutes, sit back and enjoy the flight", said the pilot over the intercom. The doors closed and the Fasten Seatbelt sign came on as the plane backed away from the gate. Marie looked out the window as the plane moved over to the runway, the workers in their orange and yellow vests like miniature Lego people from this angle. The plane stopped at the edge of the runway while waiting for the signal from air traffic control, getting the go-ahead as it moved onto the runway. It moved forward and gradually picked up speed as it accelerated down the runway, going ever faster until it took flight. Marie's eyes grew wide in awe as the city receded below them, the buildings and houses growing smaller and smaller as the plane gained in altitude. Soon the plane had reached cruising altitude and the sign went off, the flight attendants getting the beverage cart rolling. "There's not a lot to see until we are near Toronto, but I understand. The first time I went on a plane was to the play in the World Juniors in Buffalo, that was exciting", said Kris. "I must sound like a right yokel", she muttered. "You are not a yokel, ma fille. I understand", he replied, putting an arm around her shoulders and kissing her cheek. "Whoa, I just got your guy, Geno", said Jordan triumphantly as he had just killed his character in SOCOM on their PSP's. "Da, I kill you next time, Jordan. Nobody beat us Russians", Evgeni boasted. They arrived at Lester Pearson airport two and a half hours later, quickly transferring to a smaller Bearskin Airlines plane bound for Thunder Bay in far-western Ontario. The plane was a discount carrier that served smaller towns and cities in Ontario and Manitoba, only seating about 70 people and only a cart for drinks as an amenity. It quickly took off and left the city behind as it headed west, passing over vast forests in north-central Ontario that appeared to stretch on forever and interrupted only by a few scattered lakes. After a while, the enormous Lake Superior and Lake Huron were right below them, the massive lakes calm and still with tiny boats on their surfaces. The plane landed in Thunder Bay on the shores of Lake Superior two hours later, a little truck towing the gate over to the exit at the regional airport. Almost the minute they left the gate, Jordan was embraced by his father and his brothers, virtually all of them tall and fair sturdy Dutch people. "Whoa, don't suffocate me, guys", he joked as his father Henry gave him a bear hug. "You're too big to crush, Jordan. And glad you all could make it, the women are preparing dinner", said Henry as he shook everyone's hands. He was a huge man like his sons, well over six feet tall and muscular with his blond hair graying at the temples and merry blue eyes. "Hey, don't do that, bro", exclaimed Jordan as his older brother Marc got him in a headlock. "You're my little bro, it's my duty", he laughed. Marc was an inch shorter than Jordan and strawberry-blond, but he was clearly a Staal with his size and fair hair and blue eyes, a bit of reddish stubble clinging to his chin and his nose slightly off-center from being broken last year. Marie felt like a midget around the Staal men, all of them over six feet tall and very big. Even thought she was used to Kris and his teammates being bigger, the family made him look small as he was just six feet and several inches shorter than them. "There's only boys in our family, for some reason us Staals never have girls", laughed Jordan. "I see, I am going to break my neck looking at all of you", she teased. "I ken, I'm tall myself and they make me look small", said Ellen. Even though at 5'8 she was fairly tall for a woman, the men towered over her and made her look short. "You're as small as my nephew, you and Parker and Evan are going to be the smallest people here. Us Staals like big women", laughed Jordan. Everyone followed Henry towards the parking lot as he opened the doors of a black Chevy Trailblazer. "Jared's going to be here tomorrow, he's bringing Alisa with him", said Henry as they all got in the truck. "Jared's my little bro, he's down in Arizona with her folks visiting. You can't miss him, he's huge and he's got really red hair", said Jordan. Henry drove away from the airport and the modest city westwards towards the family farm. The area around it was nothing but scattered forests and ponds between enormous wheat and corn fields, the occasional railroad track cutting through them. The forests were quite dense and dark in spite of their size, full of bears and foxes and their prey and the ponds were full of ducks and geese swimming on the surface, the fields of grain like an undulating golden sea waving in the hot summer breeze. The highway seemed to stretch into infinity, pin-straight as the truck drove along the nearly deserted road under cloudless blue skies. The Staal farm consisted of over three thousand acres planted in wheat and corn and vegetables, a red barn for the animals and a broad two-story white wooden house with a wide porch out front. Henry parked the truck in front of the house as the door opened and Jordan's mother Linda came out to embrace her sons and husband. "I am so glad you could make it, everyone. The ham's in the oven and the pies just finished baking", she said. She was fair and blue eyed like her sons, wearing jeans and an apron over a white t-shirt, speaking with the same prairie cadence as her husband. "Mom, all the women must've been busy", teased Jordan as they went inside. "Of course, we can hardly let our guests go hungry. And where are your manners, Jordan Lee Staal?", she chided. "Oops, my bad. You know Kris and Geno, and this is Kris' girlfriend Marie Gagnon and Geno's girl Ellen Sutherland. Ladies, let me introduce you to my mom and the rest of the Staal women", said Jordan as he led them into the kitchen. Several other women were in the kitchen chatting as he entered with Marie and Ellen. "Hi, you must be Marie and Ellen. I'm Tanya, Eric's wife and this our baby son Evan. Eric's in the parlor watching the Twins game with Parker", she said graciously. Tanya was an attractive woman, tall and blond with cheerful green eyes as she shook their hands. "And I'm Lindsay, Marc's girlfriend", said the younger woman. She was of average height with dark blond hair in a ponytail and hazel eyes, her apron straining over her pregnant belly. "Bonjour, mesdames. Felicitations en vous bebe", said Marie kindly. "Ooh, I love your accent. Thanks, it's been three months and I bet it's going to be a boy, I swear all Staals have nothing but boys", joked Lindsay. "Daddy, we play a game and it was fun", said Parker Staal as he went into the kitchen and tried to grab a cookie from a tray. He was three years old with a mop of blond hair and bright blue eyes, wearing jeans and a red t-shirt with a race car on the front. "Not yet, Parker. Say Hi to our guests", said Tanya. "Wow, you're little", said Parker, seeing that Marie was one of the shortest grownups he had ever seen. "Je sais, monsieur Staal", she replied dryly. "What is that?", he asked, looking confused. "It's French, I am French", she explained. "Cool. Mommy, I want a cookie", he said. "We are going to have dinner later, Parker. If you have cookies now, you won't be able to have dinner", said Tanya. Eric Staal entered the kitchen as he picked up his son and hoisted him onto his broad shoulders, much to the boy's delight. He was a blond giant like the other Staal men, wearing jeans and his muscles revealed by his sleeveless white tank top. "Hello ladies, welcome to our farm", he said graciously. "Bonjour, I think I am going to have a stiff neck looking at all of you", teased Marie. "You'll get used to it, besides, it's cute", teased Lindsay as everyone laughed. Meanwhile, Kris, Evgeni, Jordan and Marc were in the parlor watching the Minnesota Twins game on the big screen TV. "You must be the only Canadians who don't cheer for the Blue Jays", teased Kris. "We don't get the Blue Jays games here, but we do get the Twins games. Besides, the Jays suck ass", retorted Jordan. "This is stupid game, it very slow. And nobody do anything", Evgeni muttered. It was the bottom of the 2nd inning as the Twins prepared to bat, Chicago White Sox pitcher Mark Buerhle preparing to face Twins catcher Joe Mauer as the fans cheered wildly for their hometown hero. Mauer took the first pitch for a ball and fouled off the next one, eventually drawing a walk as first baseman Justin Morneau came up to bat. "See, nothing happen", he muttered. "That's our boy Morneau, he's Canadian", said Marc proudly. Morneau fouled off the first pitch and took a big swing on the next one, the ball hitting the bat with a loud crack as it sailed over the right-field fence to the roar of the crowd. "See, something happened", retorted Jordan. "Da, but rest of game is real boring", said Evgeni. Eric emerged from the kitchen with Parker, handing them a six pack of Sleeman beer. "2-0 Twins, bro", said Jordan as he handed everyone a can. "Awesome. The women are all in the kitchen, Parker wanted to see the game", replied Eric. The little boy watched the game with wide eyes as he took in the massive crowd and the players, a big smile on his face as the replay showed Morneau's home run. "Daddy, I wanna play for the Twins", he said. "Who's your favorite player, little guy?", teased Jordan. "Morneau, he is great", Parker said proudly. "That's my boy, he could be the first guy from Thunder Bay to play in the big leagues", said Eric with a laugh. "At least you guys got a team, we lost our team years ago", said Kris. "That sucked about the Expos, Tanger. But they were a pretty crappy team and that was one ugly stadium they had", said Jordan. "Oui, mon ami Neerlandais. I remember winning tickets in a radio contest back in 2004, they were total merde and the stadium had pieces of the roof falling down. Luc and I had the cheap seats in the bleachers but we moved all the way down to the box seats and no one stopped us", he chuckled, but a momentary shadow crossing his face. "What happened to team?", asked Evgeni. "The Expos were broke and so crappy, they moved to Washington in 2005 and they still suck", said Kris as he nodded in understanding. An hour later, dinner was ready as everyone sat down at the table. In the center was a huge baked ham made with brown sugar and pineapples, along with a bowl of mashed potatoes, steamed vegetables and stuffing next to a loaf of bread, a gravy boat with a ladle and a small dish of butter rounding out the food. Henry poured a beer for everyone except Lindsay and Parker and Evan as they all bowed their heads said a quick grace before eating. After the dinner dishes were cleared away and in the dishwasher, Linda served everyone coffee as they helped themselves to the cream and sugar, Tanya serving everyone a slice of cherry pie with vanilla ice cream. "Mesdames, merci", said Kris gallantly. "You're welcome, Kris. My mother said to never let a guest go hungry, I've always followed that advice", said Linda. "I'm going to have to work this off, Mom. I can't let the coaches see me get fat", laughed Jordan. "You not going to get fat, Jordan. We work out later, this is vacation", said Evgeni. "But not upstairs, don't want to freak out the kids", joked Marc as the women gave him a look. "Marc, mind your manners. Lucky Parker is watching cartoons, you don't want to corrupt your nephew", chided Lindsay. "Sorry about that, babe", he chuckled. |
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| The Cosmic Gerbil | May 14, 2012, 7:07 am Post #109 |
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Forbidden Forest Ranger
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That dinner is making me hungry Lol, I am very small, so I would feel tiny in front of all those tall blokes
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| Lucifer's Angel | May 14, 2012, 10:39 am Post #110 |
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Heavy Metal Seanchai
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Chapter 41 Jordan frowned at the huge amount of mail he took from the mailbox, carrying it towards the house. "Get a load of this, but most of it is crap anyways", he said as he dumped the mail on the table. Linda sorted the mail into neat little piles for everyone, frowning when she saw a letter addressed to Kris from a return address in Newfoundland from a PO Box in L'Anse Aux Meadows, but the name on the return address was Nom Aucun. The rest of the men were watching the Twins game against Detroit as she handed Kris the letter. He glanced down and frowned at the odd address, turning it over and seeing only a thin sheet of paper inside. "Who the heck sends you mail here, isn't your stuff supposed to go to Montreal or Pittsburgh?", asked Marc, glancing at the envelope. "Oui, everyone knows to send my stuff to the PO Box in Montreal during the summer. And only the guys on the team know I'm going to be here, plus I don't know anyone in Newfoundland", he said as he carefully opened the envelope. Inside the plain white envelope was a thick sheet of black paper with neat white cursive handwriting in French as he began to read: Kristoffer Allen Letang, ce sont les affaires tres urgent. S'il vous plait apporter Mademoiselle Marie-Lisette Gagnon, Monsieur Evgeni Vladimirovich Malkin, and Mademoiselle Ellen Sutherland a cette adresse, 1719 Rue de Harbor, L'Anse aux Meadows, Newfoundland. Votre aide est la plus urgente et si vous refusez, elle aura des consequences tres mauvaises. Je vous recommande vraiment vous faites cela, Monsieur Letang. Il s'agit d'une question plus urgente, mais vous devez le faire. "What the hell is that? Kris, are you sure you're not in the Mafia or something?", asked Eric. "Non, I don't need that shit. I got to speak to the girls and Geno later", said Kris, looking more closely at the letter for clues. The black paper was smooth and thick, the writing in white gel ink and very neat with perfect margins and even lines, as though it was photocopied. "Jordan, are you sure you want to come along? You were so looking forward to spending time at home", said Kris. "I'm not going to let my friends go all the way to fucking Newfoundland all by themselves, Tanger. Besides, you can never have enough men around", he laughed grimly as he got in the driver's side of the black Lincoln Navigator. It was about eleven that night as the group made their way from the Staal farm. After showing Jordan the letter, he insisted on coming along and bringing his 9mm handgun for protection. The night sky was ink black with a fat, full moon and brilliant stars that were far more visible than in any city, only the hoot of an owl from the nearby woods punctuating the stillness. "This has got to be the craziest thing I have ever done, mon ami Neerlandais. But at least we will have an interesting story to tell at training camp", said Kris dryly. "And this is not how I expected our holiday to turn out. Just be careful", chided Marie. Jordan drove away from the farm and they were soon on the highway heading east, the radio playing the country playlist from Ellen's Ipod as the speakers played Cowboy Night Herd Song by Roy Rogers: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u3pAfX0us6A One beautiful night when the moon was full And the air was crisp and clear A cowboy lay on the star lit plain And thought of his home so dear He thought of his mother he loved so well And his slumber of sleep was blurred Not a sound to be heard but throws of the night As he sang a wild song to his herd The cattle are lying so quite and still On a carpet that mantles the west ? While the golden lanes from the sky of night Sing peace to the cowboys stress ? Still he thinks of his mother in a far away land And his thoughts by his memory was stirred And he steals himself the old home again As he sang a wild song to his herd He's far from the din of the city noise Where the lanes of folly do shine He's far from the jaws of the dies sin ? And the flow of sparkling wine He's in the great west with its mantle of green Where his neighbors say never a word A land of marriage of mountains and plains Where a cowboy sings low to his herd The sparse, old time country music seemed appropriate as they drove through the numerous farms of rural western Ontario with the moon and the stars above, only an occasional truck joining them on the road. "This is a very crazy thing, Kris. What if it not real or they gangster, Newfoundland is on the other end of Canada. We could be on the farm chilling", said Evgeni distastefully. "Think of it as an adventure, mon ami Russe. At least we will have something to tell everyone at training camp", said Kris. "I ken. At least we tried something new", agreed Ellen. Five hours later, they came to a fork in the road as one way headed south onto Toronto and the other went north towards Hearst and Sudbury. "Ah, fuck it. We got time", said Jordan as they took the northern fork towards Hearst and Sudbury in northern Ontario. "Let's hope we can find a hotel around here soon", said Marie dubiously as she glanced down at a map. "There's Holiday Inns and stuff here, we'll be fine. I played Sudbury when I was in juniors with Petersborough, we'll find something", said Jordan reassuringly. This part of Ontario was far more rural than where they had been near the Staal farm, endless pine and deciduous forests that stretched as far as they could see under pitch black skies. Jordan saw a sign reading that the oddly named town of Wawa had a couple of hotels here, flipping on the turn signal as he drove towards the exit. "We might as well stop here, Wawa's the best place before we hit real wilderness", he said. "We should take a picture of the goose, that's the big thing here", said Kris. "What goose?", asked Ellen. "Wawa is an Ojibwe word for goose, there's a big goose statue in town", he explained. The town of Wawa appeared to be no different from the innumerable towns on any major highway in North America, it's main street full of chain restaurants, motels, gas stations and convenience stores with the houses set away from them. Jordan parked in the lot of a Holiday Inn with a Shoney's attached as they got out and went towards the hotel. "Two rooms, one double and a single", said Jordan as he handed over his credit card. "The double room has a sofa-bed, I'll just crash there", he said. "Who gets what room?" asked Evgeni. "I'll take the double room", said Kris. "I'm hungry, let's go to Shoney's", said Jordan. "How can you be hungry, you had your supper", said Ellen in disbelief. "We're big dudes, us Staal men are always hungry", chuckled Jordan. After leaving the bags inside the rooms, the group went to the adjacent Shoney's. It was almost empty except for a few truck drivers having a very early breakfast and an elderly couple lingering over dessert, a middle-aged waitress leading them to an empty booth. "I haven't been to one of these since juniors", laughed Kris as they squeezed into the booth. "Me too, back then we used to think Shoney's was a fancy place", laughed Jordan. "Je sais, mon ami Neerlandais. That and Timmies", agreed Kris. "Timmies is crap, donuts are crap, period. Dunkin Donuts no good either", said Evgeni. "That is heresy, dude. Everyone likes Timmies", said Jordan in mock-horror. "Hi, what can I get you to drink?", asked the waitress. "A round of orange juice", said Kris. "So what are we going to do if nothing happens? It could be a crazy fan", said Evgeni. Marie said nothing as she pretended to look at the plastic laminated menu. She had a nagging feeling that this was more than just the note, realizing something more was going on. An old memory came back to her, her father picking her up from the convent and their trip to Newfoundland to the old house, the glowing orb and then it all fading to black. We went to L'Anse aux Meadows, but are they related?, she mused. "If some freaky shit happens, I'll go straight home. We're not for adventure", said Jordan as the drinks arrived. They ordered their food and waited until the waitress went back to the kitchen. "Are you going to fly back then, mon ami Neerlandais?", teased Kris. Jordan rolled his eyes and took a sip of his juice. "Whichever's faster, Tanger. Hell, I'd swim if it was fast enough", he retorted. "All right, so do you have any idea what this is? 'Tis a barmy thing", said Ellen. Marie felt a sharp pricking sensation in the back of her neck, debating whether she should tell everyone. And what if everyone thinks I'm crazy? I don't even remember much except for Newfoundland and the couple and the orb, she thought. |
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| The Cosmic Gerbil | May 17, 2012, 2:08 pm Post #111 |
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Forbidden Forest Ranger
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Nice Metallica song ref Yes Jordan...you need an adventure Adventures are awesome
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| Lucifer's Angel | May 17, 2012, 2:26 pm Post #112 |
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Heavy Metal Seanchai
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Chapter 42 "Tanger, why the hell did you want to make a detour to stupid Val d'Or, I know you played juniors here, but there's nothing up here", said Jordan as they approached the city limits of Val d'Or in northern Quebec after driving all morning and part of the afternoon. "Luc and I played juniors here, and I wanted to take a scenic route. I've driven around Montreal so often, I had to take the bus to Val d'Or at the start of camp each season", he replied as he made a turn at the sign. They had stopped for the night at the Days Inn and then continued driving after having breakfast the next day, Kris insisting they continue on the northern route instead of the more heavily trafficked southern route. Northern Ontario was mostly enormous pine forests that seemed to go in all direction for hundreds of thousands of acres, just a sea of dark green conifers below a vast blue cloudless skies. The few towns were either logging or mining towns inhabited by a mix of Anglophones, French and various First Nations tribes, the more isolated ones all French people where nothing was in English. The roads were shared with enormous trucks carrying loads of freshly chopped-down trees and various SUV's and pickup trucks, almost no regular mid-sized cars on the roads due to the area's ruggedness. Val d'Or was a mining town located right atop a rich of gold which gave the town its name, Val d'Or being French for valley of gold. It was a dull, nondescript little town of a main street which also doubled as a highway lined with various mom and pop stores alongside the chains which included a Tim Hortons, a 7-11 and a few gas stations with a few old people up and about enjoying the sunny day. In the distance, the gold refineries turned the raw gold ore into the valuable gold as the smokestacks belched out smoke that showed the town's wealth. By far the most impressive building was the Centre Air Creebec, home to the Val d'Or Foreurs junior team, the town's pride and joy. The arena was now empty and a banner outside announced a church swap meet and a flea market over the weekend, the huge banner in French with no English as the entire town was French. "Tanger, this place is worse than Peterborough. At least Peterborough had cool bands and a mall where we'd scope hot chicks, what the heck is there to do around here?", asked Jordan, frowning at the complete lack of English anything and the big smokestacks belching out smoke. "Drink and play video games, mon ami Neerlandais. Luc had his guitar and he'd play for us, he loved to play stuff like Pantera, Metallica and some country stuff, he was a big fan of the 70's guys like Waylon Jennings and Willie Nelson. The bars here never asked for ID, and since we were on the Foreurs they would let us in anyways", said Kris with a laugh. "Jordan right, this place look boring. And I don't speak French either", said Evgeni. "It depends on what you mean by boring, Geno. Luc's town of Shippagan was smaller than this, like around 2,000 people. And I came here after being on a Greyhound bus for over five hours, I was just glad to get off the bus", he said with a laugh... Kris sighed in relief as the sign for the Val d'Or city limits came into view, finally glad to get here after more than five hours on the Greyhound bus. He had been drafted by the Foreurs earlier that summer after graduating high school and in the first round to boot after playing midget hockey at the AAA level since he was fifteen, very excited as this was farthest he'd ever been from home and his mother. But after having been on the bus since six that morning as it made its way into the hinterlands of Quebec way out in the boonies, Kris was now tired, hungry and wanted nothing more than to crash at the house the team had rented for the younger players under the supervision of the coaches. The bus stopped at the Greyhound station downtown as Kris grabbed his duffel bag and adjusted his black Metallica baseball cap over his shoulder-length black hair and walked off the bus. A middle aged man in a green and yellow Foreurs windbreaker went up to him and shook his hand, his thinning brown hair in a combover that barely covered his scalp. "Bonjour, Kristopher Letang. I am Pierre Aucoin, the coach and I am going to take you to the hotel, you are staying with another defenseman, Luc Bourdon", he said. "Bonjour, monsieur Aucoin. Merci, I'm hungry and I've been on that damn bus since six this morning", said Kris with a chuckle. "Je sais, that is a long ride from here and I remember that from when I was in juniors, Kris. Anyways, training camp starts tomorrow morning and Luc is going to show you the ropes, he joined the team last year", said Pierre as they got in his beat up blue Toyota pickup. Kris smiled gratefully at the older man as they got in the truck and he turned on the engine, the ancient radio tuned to one the of the many local country stations. "Uh, is there a station that plays Metallica here?", he asked. "Non, I'm afraid. All they have up here is country music, but Luc is a big Metallica fan and he plays guitar, I'm sure you boys will get along well", said Pierre. He drove them to a cheap motel right across the street from the modest 3,000 arena and parked in front of a door as they got out and he knocked on the door. A tall, thin young man with longish curly brown hair wearing denim shorts and a t-shirt with the original Killing is My Business album cover answered the door, a big welcoming smile on his face that immediately put him at ease. "Bonjour, monsieur Aucoin. You must be Kristopher Letang, love the hat. Metallica are awesome", said Luc, giving him the thumbs up. "Bonjour, Metallica are awesome. And so are Megadeth, that the original album cover?", asked Kris as they went inside the room and Pierre went to his own room. "Oui, that's the one Dave didn't like because it looked like a plastic skull and tinfoil, I don't think anyone was scared of that Vic Rattlehead. Anyways, what's Montreal like, I'm from this little buttfuck town in New Brunswick called Shippagan", said Luc as he picked up an acoustic guitar and checked the tunings. "Big, very big. But I'm from the suburbs, not the actual city, but I do go there a lot. And what kind of guitar is that?", asked Kris. "It's a Martin HD-28, Mom got it for me when I got drafted by the Foreurs. It's a great thing to have on road trips, I'm learning how to play Unforgiven", he said, gesturing to the neat pile of Metallica tablature books on the nightstand. "Wow, I can't play anything for shit. Do you play electric too?", asked Kris. "My Jackson is back home in Shippagan along with my Randall, I don't want it here and I can't take it on the bus. The Martin can go anywhere, I take it on the bus and play for the guys on road trips", said Luc. "What do you play?", asked Kris. "Metallica, Pantera, some country shit like Waylon Jennings. I tried to learn how to play Megadeth but some of it is complex as shit, stuff like Hangar 18. I got mad respect for Dave and Marty, I'm nowhere near being that good", laughed Luc as he flopped down on the bed. "What's to do around here, and what does the coach think of drinking?", asked Kris. "Mon ami Quebecois, we are in the fucking boonies, Val d'Or is a gold mining town of roughnecks in the middle of nowhere. All there to do is drink, plus the bars don't ID and the coach doesn't mind as long as we don't show up drunk for practice or get in fights. The only other thing here is to go to the movies, but all they have is two movies that played down in Montreal months ago, that or the video rental place that sells pornos. I don't even have internet up here, and the internet up here sucks too. The older guys who come to the games buy us drinks, if you play for the Foreurs you are somebody up here. Hope you can play pool or darts", said Luc cheerfully. "I know how to play pool and darts, and I like beer so that's good", said Kris with a laugh. They spent the rest of the afternoon just chilling, watching a VHS copy of Live Shit: Binge and Purge by Metallica. Around five, Luc and Kris washed up a bit and joined some of their teammates at the Bar Dundee's just down the street from the motel for dinner and happy hour. The bar was a typical workingman's bar that catered to gold miners and the workers at the refinery, Christmas lights strewn across the bar and a dartboard and pool table near the tiny dance floor as a jukebox played Mama Tried by Merle Haggard: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UKuc4nfJByc The first thing I remember knowing, Was a lonesome whistle blowing, And a young un's dream of growing up to ride; On a freight train leaving town, Not knowing where I'm bound, No-one could change my mind but Mama tried. One and only rebel child, From a family, meek and mild: My Mama seemed to know what lay in store. Despite all my Sunday learning, Towards the bad, I kept on turning. 'Til Mama couldn't hold me anymore. And I turned twenty-one in prison doing life without parole. No-one could steer me right but Mama tried, Mama tried. Mama tried to raise me better, but her pleading, I denied. That leaves only me to blame 'cos Mama tried. Dear old Daddy, rest his soul, Left my Mom a heavy load; She tried so very hard to fill his shoes. Working hours without rest, Wanted me to have the best. She tried to raise me right but I refused. And I turned twenty-one in prison doing life without parole. No-one could steer me right but Mama tried, Mama tried. Mama tried to raise me better, but her pleading, I denied. That leaves only me to blame 'cos Mama tried. "So Kris, how's it like coming up all the way here from Montreal?", asked their goalie Pascal Lefebvre as he took a sip from his bottle of Molson. "Boring as hell, I had to ride the Greyhound for five hours since six this morning", he replied as the bartender set down a bottle of Labatt's in front of him. "That sucks, lucky I'm just from La Sarre and that's not too far", laughed Pascal. "Did you ever go to Bell Centre to see Les Canadiens?", asked their center Rene Lavasque as he sipped his Jack and Coke. "Oui, I try to go at least one game a month during the winter. But I only get the cheap seats, the good seats are expensive as hell and no one wants to part with them", he chuckled as the others looked almost envious. "I've always wanted to go to Montreal, I've been to Moncton and that's the biggest place I've ever been to", said Luc wistfully as he finished his beer. "That sucks, I saw Metallica at the Bell Centre on the last tour", as the others looked impressed. "Whoa, badass. I want to see Metallica so fucking bad, but I don't drive yet and there's only a bus that goes to Moncton from my town. Metallica are never going to come to our little butthole town for shit, I want to see them so fucking bad. That or Pantera", as the boys nodded in agreement. "Pantera are fucking badass, Phil Anselmo is the man", said Kris reverently as he drank his beer and they ordered their dinner. "Yeah, he's one awesome guy. You know he's French like us, he's from Louisiana and he's Acadien like me", said Luc proudly. "I thought he was Italian", said Pascal, confused. "Non, he is Italian on his dad's side and his mama is French, and the French there are Acadiens like me", said Luc proudly. "Awesome, no wonder Pantera are bad asses. Now I really want to visit Louisiana", said Kris excitedly as the jukebox played Are You Sure Hank Done it This Way by Waylon Jennings: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jtqsmXF25Js Lord its the same old tune - fiddle and guitar Where do we take it from here Rhinestone suits and new shiny cars We've been the same way for years We need to change Somebody told me when - I came to Nashville Son you finally got it made Old Hank made it here - we re all sure that you will But I don t think Hank done it this way I don t think Hank done it this way Ten years on the road, making one night stands Speeding my young life away Tell me one more time just so I understand Are you sure Hank done it this way Did Ol Hank really do it this way? I've seen the world with a five piece band Looking at the back side of me Singing my songs and one of his now and then But I don't think Hank done em this a way No I don't think Hank done em this a way Take it home "That's one thing you got to get used to here, Kris. There's nothing but country music here", teased Rene. "I don't mind, I expected as much. As long as it's not rap, I don't mind", he replied. "Rap sucks ass, Kris. We had a neighbor in our building who used to play stupid rap shit loud all the time, some people have merde for taste", said Pascal as everyone made a face. The waitress set down their dinner of burgers and fries as they began to eat. The bar gradually filled up with miners and refinery guys just getting off of work, the great majority of them rough men who just wanted to drink and eat burgers and listen to country music before going home, some of them recognizing the players and smiling in acknowledgment. The bar's business started picking up as the elderly bartender poured big pints of beer and shots of whiskey for the men, the jukebox playing Detroit City by Bobby Bare as the 50's country classic seemed suited to this hard-drinking industrial city way out in the sticks of Quebec: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=amqIDBs4tQg I want to go home, I want to go home, Oh Lord, I want to go home, Last night I went to sleep in Detroit city, And I dreamed about those cotton fields and home, I dreamed about my mother, dear old papa, sister and brother, And I dreamed about that girl, whose been waitin' for so long, I want to go home, I want to go home, Oh Lord, I want to go home, Home folks think I'm big in Detroit city, From the letters that I write they think I'm fine, But by day I make the cars, by night I make the bars, If only they could read between the lines, I want to go home, I want to go home, Oh Lord, I want to go home, I rode a freight train north to Detroit city, After all these years I've been wasting my time, I'll take my foolish pride, on a southbound freight and ride, Go on back to the ones, EI've left waitin' so far behind, I want to go home, I want to go home, Oh Lord, I want to go home. They finished eating and ordered another round of beers as Luc went over to the pool table, which was occupied by two grizzled miners in worn overalls and equally worn green John Deere baseball caps on their heads. "You wanna play pool, garcon?", said the older of the two men, looking at him dubiously. "Oui, monsieur", said Luc cheerfully. The two men exchanged a glance as Luc got the balls ready and rubbed a bit of the blue chalk to the end of his pool cue. He took a large swallow of his Molson and carefully aimed at the big white cue ball, hitting the ball with the end of his stick and seeing half the balls scatter all over the table and a few falling into the pockets. "Not bad, garcon", said the younger of the two men cockily as he had his turn, frowning when only a handful of the balls went into the pockets. They continued playing and the older men had to grudgingly admit that Luc was a better player than them, buying the teenager another beer as he beamed with pride. "How'd you learn to play that good, kid?", asked the older man. Luc nodded in thanks as he drank his beer. "I'm from Shippagan in Brunswick, there's not much else to do. And there's not much to do here either when I'm not playing for the Foreurs", he said. "You play for the Foreurs, wow. Kid, that's great", said the younger as he clapped him on the back.... "Wow, you've been so quiet since we left Val d'Or, Tanger", said Jordan as they approached the city limits of Quebec City that night. "I was just thinking about Luc and the time we first met, mon ami", he said softly. "Luc sounds like he was quite an interesting person", remarked Marie. "He was, ma belle fille pays. He was my first real friend on the Foreurs and really took me under his wing as he had been there for a year and I was just a rookie", he said, smiling at her. "Kris, what Quebec City like?", asked Evgeni. "Un cite mas belle, mon ami Russe. I have to say it's more beautiful than Montreal, and I live there. It's like an old European city with the walls and the old buildings, plus everyone is French here and there's a lot of historical stuff. If we were here during the day, we could have gone sightseeing", he chuckled. "Why can't we go sightseeing tomorrow?", suggested Ellen. "Good idea, it's a great city", agreed Kris. "What is that big hotel called?", asked Jordan. "Mon ami, I don't think the Chateau Frontenac has any vacancies now", he chuckled. "Oh well, we've stayed in Holiday Inns, one more can't hurt", said Jordan with a shrug as they approached a Holiday Inn at the next exit. |
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| The Cosmic Gerbil | May 21, 2012, 5:41 am Post #113 |
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Forbidden Forest Ranger
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I want to visit Val d'Or now I've seen coal mining towns and I would love to see a gold mining town
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| Lucifer's Angel | May 21, 2012, 7:26 am Post #114 |
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Heavy Metal Seanchai
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Chapter 43 An hour later, they found themselves at Aspara in the Old Upper Town of Quebec City. This part of the city was inside the heavy walls which marked the boundaries of the original French settlement, most of the tourists having gone home for the day. The old buildings lining the streets would not have looked of place in a medieval European town, the cobblestone streets now devoid of the tourists which flocked here during the summer. "Sometimes I wish the Nordiques never left here, imagine we could be playing here regularly instead of Denver", said Kris with a chuckle. "Denver not that bad, they have good beers there", said Evgeni, as he glacned down at the menu. "But it's nowhere near as cool, Geno. And is there anything here that's not spicy?", asked Jordan as he looked down at the menu of Thai dishes. "Most Thai food is spicy, mon ami Neerlandais. But the Pad Thai isn't that spicy, just tell the waiter wehn he comes by", said Kris. "Jordan, you better not try Caucasian or Georgian food, that very spicy and it everywhere in Russia", teased Evgeni. "What is there to see, it feels strange I have never been to Quebec before", said Marie dryly. "A lot, there's the walls and La Citadelle and these little museums and shops. When I was in juniors and we were in Quebec to play the Remparts, that was always fun. But we had the long-ass bus ride from Val d'Or and that sucked, other than that it was great", he laughed. "Then what was the worst place?", teased Ellen. "Baie Comeau, which is so far out in the boonies it made Val d'Or look good. It's all the way up north and there's a paper mill that smells, there was literally nothing there except drunks. The fans were rough too, they liked to get drunk and through crap onto the ice. If I lived there, I'd be a drunk asshole too, perdon mes filles", he said gallantly. "No apologies, I agree", said Marie dryly as the waiter poured them each a glass of Chardonnay. The waiter then took their orders and the table resumed their soft chatter. Kris sipped his wine and silently observed unless someone talked to him, his mind still on the odd letter and his memories of Luc. His memories their time together were stronger now than ever, since the dream back in Montreal. I know I'm not dead, Luc hasn't shown up yet, he thought dryly. They finished eating and settled the bill as the group exited the restaurant. It was a balmy summer evening as a few tourists still hung around and the cafes and bars in the romantic old quarter did a thriving business, snatches of French conversation and bits of music drifting from open doors, the area feeling as though it would not be out of place in provincial France. Kris had his arm around Marie and felt a lot better when she smiled up at him, a slight chuckle escaping his lips when he saw Evgeni with his arm around Ellen. He gave Jordan a sympathetic smile as he was the only single guy in their group, the big blond shrugging his shoulders. He gave a reluctant sigh as he glanced down at his phone and saw it was nearly ten, knowing they had to drive back to the Holiday Inn on the outskirts of the city. "Oh well, we see city tomorrow", said Evgeni with a shrug. The drive back to the Holiday Inn was a quiet one but not uncomfortable, everyone feeling a bit sleepy and pleasantly drowsy from the good food and the wine. Jordan parked the Navigator in the lot and they all went to the rooms after bidding Good Night, Kris leading Marie to their room. "Kris, you were quiet during dinner", she said as she changed into a thin white slip and loosened her hair and brushed it. Kris had a chuckle at the sight as she sat on the bed and carefully brushed her curly black hair. "I was just thinking about Luc and how much fun we had when we played in Quebec when in juniors", he replied. Marie set down her brush and shook her head, her black curls falling around her face. "He sounded like quite a person", she replied. Kris nodded as he stripped down to his boxers and joined her on the bed, taking her into his arms and kissing the top of her head. "Oui, he was, ma fille pays. He was my best friend ever since we played together in Val d'Or, we just hit it off like that. We spent a lot of time together off the ice and in Val d'Or, he'd play his guitar or we'd watch rock videos on our crappy VCR or just chill. We won the Junior Championships together, we saw Pantera live in Montreal together, that was really badass. I don't know why he was killed, there are such horrible people out there and they are still alive", he muttered. Marie said nothing but just held him, feeling his shoulders shake slightly as he breathed heavily. "Merci for not talking silly pretty things, ma belle. Mom, she was saying that everyone was going to be all right and Luc was in a better place, but that's not the sort of thing I wanted to hear", he chuckled weakly. "Je sais, she meant well but I guess that's not what you wanted to hear", she replied. A sudden feeling came over him as an odd little grin formed on his face. "Marie, I had this crazy dream when we were in Montreal in the playoffs, please don't think I am crazy", he said. Marie said nothing as she gave him her full attention. Kris sighed as he started talking. "I was in the hotel taking my pregame nap when I had this feeling like I was floating in the clouds, but I wasn't scared. I came down and found myself in a neighborhood that looked like the one in my town where I grew up, but it looked all pastel like I was seeing it through gauze. One of the doors opened and it was Luc and he invited me inside, he was living with Alexei Cherapanov and Bill Barilko. He wasn't cold like I thought ghosts were, he felt like a living human. They were really real, hell, Alexei broke out a bottle of blackberry Stoli and I could taste it. They said something about this being a purgatory of sorts for people who have unfinished business, that it was some guys called Sol Duga who are behind this mess. Maybe this has something to do with the letter, Luc said they were going to contact me after the playoffs", he chuckled. Marie held his head in her lap and stroked his hair as he smiled beatifically at her. The prick in the back of her neck was even more pronounced as she recognized the name, her mouth suddenly dry and her pulse hammering madly. "Kris, I recognize the name", she said. "Quelle, ma belle? What is that?", he asked. "Sol Duga are headed by Magnus and Helgi Thorvaldssen, they are immortal Vikings from Iceland who were blessed by the Vanir, the Norse gods, after he helped Thor when he was in disguise on Earth. I recognize them, my father met them", she whispered. Kris looked up at her with a puzzled look on his face. "Have you met them before, ma belle?", he asked. "Oui, when I was a child. All I remember is that Papa picked me up from the orphanage and we took the train to Halifax and then the ferry to Newfoundland, we went to this house in L'Anse aux Meadows and then that's the last I remember. I didn't remember anything for years until I was sixteen, Papa was working a late night at the bar and I had the flu. I wasn't at work and I was looking through an old cabinet because I was bored, there were all these old papers but it was in some sort of code, I didn't recognize the letters and I'm not sure what it was. But there was this old-looking scroll in this weird old fashioned English and it was all about Sol Duga, now I remember it", she replied. "Whoa, I think that's why the letter mentioned you, they want to see you too. But why Geno and Ellen, I don't think they're Sol Duga", said Kris thoughtfully. Evgeni lay on his back in the bed as Ellen slept next to him, feeling as though his body was tired but his mind wouldn't cooperate. The faint moonlight streamed in through the closed curtains and the faint sound of footsteps could be heard from the hallway outside, a soft voice speaking in French nearby. He was momentarily frightened when his vision went white as though someone had tossed a blanket on top of him, but a sense of peace and tranquility soon engulfed him as he felt weightless and boneless, as though he was on a cloud or floating somewhere. He was in this peaceful, tranquil state for what appeared to be several minutes before gently coming down to solid ground. Evgeni frowned when he didn't recognize the area, looking like a North American suburb like where Kris' family lived but it vaguely ephemeral like it was in a pastel wash, looking both solid and opaque like painted movie set or it was made of cotton candy. It was eerily quiet without any of the normal sounds of a town, no birds singing or cars on the streets or kids riding bicycles, in fact, there were no people around. Evgeni was startled when he saw one of the doors of the house in front of him open a crack, even more surprised when he recognized Luc as the tall French man grinned at him. "'Allo, Geno. Come in", he said cheerfully as he embraced him. "You're not cold, are you a ghost?", he asked, his eyes wide when he heard himself speak perfect English with no accent. "That's not me speaking, I don't talk like this", he said in shock. "Oui, it is you speaking, Geno. Since you're not here permanently and not many can understand you, you speak like a regular dude", he joked. "Okay, but I'm not used to this. Aren't you supposed to be dead and this doesn't look like heaven, I hope I'm not dead", he said in fear. "Non, you're just dreaming everything, Geno. I had Kris visit me when the team was in Montreal, he was freaked out but it was good to see him again. And yes, I am dead, unfortunately. I'm in a sort of purgatory, but I got some good companions while I'm stuck here", he laughed. Evgeni could only nod as he tried to make sense of this. His eyes widened even wider when he recognized Alexei Cherapanov and Bill Barilko in the living room drinking raspberry Stoli as they turned to face him. "I told you I had some interesting companions", teased Luc. "Hey, Luc told us about you, Geno. My folks were Russian too, but I can't speak any for shit. It wasn't very useful up in Timmins", laughed Bill as he extended his hand. "And English is not too useful in Siberia either, Bill. I'm Alexei", he said. Evgeni numbly shook their hands and gingerly sat down on the couch as Bill poured him a generous measure of vodka. "At least you guys have good taste in vodka, Smirnoff is crap. What am I doing here?", he asked, swallowing the vodka in one gulp. Bill poured him another and handed it back to him. "Geno, you were here for the same reason Kris was, you guys are going to know everything when the guys in Sol Duga tell you when you get to Newfoundland. It was confusing to me at first, but when they explained it, it all made sense. Helgi and Magnus are a Viking couple from Iceland who immortal, they helped out Thor when he was on Earth in disguise and he granted them immortality and eternal youth, with the idea that they were going to help people who have unfinished business", he said. "How do you help a god?", he asked, confused. "Are you familiar with the myth of Baucis and Philemon?", asked Alexei as he shook his head: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Baucis_and_Philemon "They were an elderly Greek couple who by themselves in a poor cottage. When Zeus and Hermes came in disguise to the town, the people refused to give them anything and all the gods wanted was a place to spend the night and a simple meal. The old couple opened their doors to the travelers and fed them and gave them a place for the night, in spite of the fact that they were very poor. When they saw that the wine cup Zeus drank from was never empty, they realized he was a god and tried to sacrifice their old goose because they felt the gods would be angry at their simple fare. Zeus refused to have them sacrifice the goose and told the couple to leave with him, they climbed to the top of a hill and he had a flood come and wipe out the town of wicked people. He then created a temple on the hill and they were guardians of it, all they asked was that when it was time for them to die, they would both die at the same time so one would not mourn the other. When it was time for them to die, they did so at the same time and were turned into trees, an intertwining oak and a linden", said Luc "I see, is that how they helped Thor?", he asked. "Yes, the townsfolk refused to be hospitable to Thor and they were the only ones to treat him well, he destroyed the village but made them immortal with that condition they help people. That's why they want you, Geno, they want you guys to help somebody with unfinished business", said Bill. "But why me, I'm just a regular guy", he said. "You're not a regular guy, Geno. You'll learn more when you get to Newfoundland, au revoir", said Luc as the scene gradually dissolved and he found himself back in the hotel bed. |
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| The Cosmic Gerbil | May 25, 2012, 5:04 pm Post #115 |
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Forbidden Forest Ranger
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Wow, Geno is definitely having a big adventure I wonder what will happen in Newfoundland?
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| The Cosmic Gerbil | May 27, 2012, 3:16 pm Post #116 |
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Forbidden Forest Ranger
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Oops, did you know that you have posted chapter 42 again? |
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| Lucifer's Angel | May 27, 2012, 3:26 pm Post #117 |
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Heavy Metal Seanchai
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Sorry about that, this is the actual chapter Chapter 44 By noon the following day, they were back on the road headed upriver from Quebec City towards the Maritimes, following Route 132 as it hugged the coast of the St. Lawrence River. The area was green and verdant with thick forests of deciduous trees under a cloudless blue sky, very little evidence of people except for the occasional truck and the radio stations in French as there were very few Anglophones in the area. "We ought to be in Halifax by tonight, we are going to make a detour in Shippagan", said Kris, a shadow crossing his face. "Are you going to see Luc's grave?", asked Marie quietly. "Oui, ma belle. I ought to see him again before we leave, it could be the last time I see him. You can stay with his mom Suzanne while I go visit the cemetery, she would be glad to have guests", said Kris. They continued driving upriver until he made a turn towards New Brunswick to the east, the upper part of the province near the Gulf of St. Lawrence scarcely different from neighboring Quebec. The scenery was the same and the radio stations were all in French playing either country music or the accordion-heavy Acadien music that was not unlike Cajun music from Louisiana, the only difference in the countryside the signs in both English and French whereas in Quebec they were in French only. The area near the Acadien Peninsula was very similar to coastal Normandy and Brittany where the people's ancestors originally came from, rocky and barren with tiny towns consisting of a main street crowded with businesses and a large dock full of crab, lobster and fishing boats along with the stray modest yacht that might have been owned by the town's mayor. The tangy scent of the sea and fish permeated everything and seeped inside the truck, not unpleasant and a reminder of the area's big industry. The peninsula itself was more rugged than the preceding scenery, the shores rockier and the sheer mass of fishing boats almost outnumbering the people. Most of the little towns were just houses and shops clustered around a main street of small shops and gas stations, many of the shops selling boat and engine parts and liquor and groceries and the gas stations with signs advertising live bait and cold beer. The houses ranged from old wooden houses painted every color under the rainbow with wide verandas and cupolas and widow's walks right by the shore to trailers on the outskirts of town, some of them double wides but many of them singles but clean and brightly colored with pickup trucks parked outside to brick buildings with a store on the lower level and an apartment above. Shippagan was located on a small natural harbor on the west side of the peninsula, a small town clustered around its one main street near the docks full of lobster and crab boats and including the trailers scattered on the perimeter of the town. The strong scent of the ocean and fish filled the air and it was considerably cooler here than inland as a steady breeze came from the gulf, seagulls swooping down to catch stray fish and bits of food people had dropped on the dock. The buildings on the main street were mostly two storeys with a shop on the lower level and a few apartments on top, made of brick unlike the houses near the dock which were made of wood with widow's walks and verandas, the businesses consisting of a small grocery store, a hardware store, a Citgo gas station, a liquor store, a bar with a glowing green shamrock in neon lights in the window and a 7-11. Kris drove towards the outskirts of the little town and stopped in front of a small trailer painted a rich dark red with flowerpots holding red geraniums in the windows, the little trailer meticulously clean on the outside and looking not unlike one of the little vacation houses found in rural Sweden. The door opened and a short, plump middle-aged woman with hair dyed dark brown under a bright yellow kerchief came out as she smiled in recognition when she saw Kris, embracing him and speaking excitedly in French. "Bonjour, Suzanne. We are here for a bit, I wanted you to meet us and I want to see Luc. Marie, Ellen, Geno, Jordan, this is Suzanne Boucher, Luc's mother. Suzanne, this is my girlfriend Marie Gagnon, Geno and his girlfriend Ellen and our friend and teammate Jordan", he said. "Bonjour, mes amis", said Suzanne as she eschewed shaking hands and embraced them and kissed their cheeks. She was dressed in a bright yellow short-sleeved dress with black polka dots that matched her kerchief and sandals, her still-handsome face with a few lines around her eyes and her dark brown eyes that were almost black as she spoke with a thick French accent. "Bonjour, Madame Boucher", said Marie as Suzanne led them inside the trailer. It was just as cozy inside as it was outside, clean and the scent of wildflowers and grass coming in from the open windows. The small parlor had a 19-inch TV on a stand with several tiny figurines of Jesus on the cross, a flaming Sacred Heart, and a small painting of the the Assumption of the Virgin Mary in a see-through plastic pouch along with a tiny brass medallion from the last year's Assumption Mass at the local Church of Ste. Genevieve, along with a wooden crucifix with an enameled Jesus in the center. Above the TV was a portrait of Luc on the day he had been drafted by the Canucks, flanked by Suzanne and the team's coach Alain Vigneault, holding up a blue and green Canucks jersey with his name on the back and grinning proudly. Next to it was a velvet painting of a brown-haired, blue-eyed Jesus in red and dark blue robes and a solemn look on his face holding up a flaming sacred heart, his eyes seemingly gazing at everyone in the room. The couch was old and in a dull brown and green plaid but it was clean and covered with hand stitched orange brocade pillows, the discreet patches covering up holes in the same green and brown plaid as the original material. Suzanne led them into the kitchen where they sat down at the round yellow table with its mismatched plastic and wooden chairs as she put a kettle on the stove, taking a ceramic cookie jar shaped like a bear in a green jacket from a shelf and setting it down. The kitchen was tiny but inviting, the cream linoleum tiles recently replaced after the old ones were curling at the edges and wallpaper in pale yellow with tiny pink and purple flowers as the decor. The refrigerator and gas stove looked as though they were older than them, but still in working order as a clock shaped like Felix the Cat mounted on the wall told time, a big grin on its face and its tail wagging back and forth. "Why are visiting, Kris? But it's no matter, not many come and visit except for Francois", said Suzanne, a slight blush on her cheeks. "We are on our way to Newfoundland, I wanted to see Luc", said Kris. Suzanne smiled sadly as the kettle whistled, pouring hot water into the cups with the tea bags. "Je sais, Kristopher. I was at the cemetery two days ago with Charlene, she was in town on a break from her residency in Moncton. Luc would have been so proud of her", she whispered. "Je sais, Suzanne", he agreed. The group drank their tea and ate gingersnaps from the cookie jar as they made small talk, Kris feeling guilty as he felt he made Suzanne upset. He finished his tea and excused himself as he went outside, quickly walking away from the little trailer towards the cemetery at the church on the outskirts of town. It was cooler here in the forest with the trees and the breeze from the ocean combining to make it more pleasant than farther inland, the sounds of robins and sparrows in the trees making a cheerful song. The church itself was a modest red brick building with a white roof and a belfry in the center, a message board outside announcing Wednesday night mass and a swap meet on Saturday along with Sunday mass. Adjacent to the church was the town's cemetery as the virtually the entire town was Catholic, almost everyone in town buried or going to be buried here. The gravestones were well-maintained by relatives and the gardeners, many of them with fresh bouquets of flowers and the graves in French. He stopped at one and knelt down to read it, a bouquet of red carnations and another of white roses on the bronze plaque: Luc Bourdon February 16, 1987-May 29, 2008 Fils bien-aime, neveu, cousin, ami, amant Ensemble nous allons monter en fleche Kris took a deep breath as tears escaped his eyes and flowed down his cheeks, tracing the words carved into the bronze. Luc, I thought we were going to fly together, we were brothers, he thought as sobs escaped his throat. He knelt there for a while, not noticing how long as he stared down at the plaque. The sun was still shining and the birds still sang, nature seemingly going on its business as he tried not to break down. "Mon ami Quebecois, why the long face?", asked a cheerful, teasing voice. Kris looked up and saw Luc standing there with a big grin on his face, dressed in denim shorts and a Val d'Or Foreurs t-shirt in the team's green and gold. He looked so real and solid that Kris reached out and could feel the hem of his t-shirt, the cheap cotton blend feeling like one of the shirts one bought at Wal-Mart for two dollars. "Luc, don't tell me I'm dead yet", he chuckled weakly. Luc just laughed, his brown eyes merry. "Non, I'm not the dead one, Kris. Kris, I know you're sad whenever you visit my grave, but don't act that way around Mom, she's starting to be happy again with Francois and I don't you to ruin it", he chided. "What do you want me to do, Luc?", he asked. Luc chuckled as he placed a hand on his shoulder, his touch warm like a regular human's. "I want you and everyone else to have fun, you're going to be in Halifax by tonight and I want you to have fun. You are going on the adventure of a lifetime, you should not face it in a miserable state", he said. "It's the Irish in you saying that, mon ami Acadien. Did you see the wake your family had?", he teased. "Oui, that was crazy but right. My aunt's husband's family must be the only folks in town who aren't French like us, reckon every dead person should have a wake. Then again, if people realized the afterlife isn't so bad, they'd all want to go", he said thoughtfully. "So what do you expect we do in Halifax?", asked Kris. "Get drunk, dance, something other than mope at the hotel, mon ami Quebecois. And Mom is going on a date with Francois tonight, I want her to be happy for tonight. I wouldn't have a problem with Mom having him as a boyfriend, he's a cool dude", he chuckled. "What about Charlene?", asked Kris. "And Charlene should be happy too, just because I'm dead doesn't mean she has to stay single forever", he said with a frown. "But you guys were practically married, I don't think you guys dated anyone else", said Kris. Luc sighed. "Je sais, mon ami Quebecois. She was my girlfriend from when we were both fifteen and in high school until I died, I was going to marry that girl someday. But I want her to be happy too, I want her to find someone else and get married and have kids, the whole lot. I don't want her to be a spinster her whole life because of me", he said. "Je comprends, Luc. I ought to be heading back, and we will have a good time in Halifax for you", he teased. "Vous avez une meilleure, mon ami", teased Luc as he gradually faded away. They arrived in Halifax that afternoon just as the sun had begun to set, the view a striking one as they approached from the highway. The city was centered on a large harbor surrounded by all manner of ships ranging from cruise ships and ferries to container ships carrying all sorts of goods to fishing boats carrying fish, crabs and lobster from out on the Atlantic, the city itself surrounded by small rounded green hill to the north and beaches on either side. The area near the harbor had several modest glass and steel buildings casting their reflections onto the still waters of the harbor as the sky turned from blue to varying shades of purple and pink with the massive orange sun setting into the ocean, the shrieks of seagulls the loudest sound except for the cars. Kris parked the truck in the lot of the Westin Nova Scotian right on the waterfront, taking their bags inside as they checked in for the night. "Kris, what is the matter?", asked Marie, seeing the serious look on his face. He just chuckled and gave her a hug, an amused look in his dark eyes. "I didn't mean to frighten you, ma belle. When I was at the cemetery, I saw Luc. He said for us to have a good time and not mope, he didn't want me to make his mother sad as she is going on a date with her boyfriend tonight", he chuckled. "That is odd advice, but you cannot argue with a ghost", she said dryly. Everyone changed as they all met downstairs in the lobby. Kris led them outside just as the sun was almost finished setting, the massive orange ball halfway set on the horizon. The docks were quiet now except for the seagulls and the tourists taking pictures, a pleasant breeze blowing in from the sea. "Follow me, I know this great place", he said. They found themselves at the Taj Mahal just down the street from the hotel adjacent to downtown Halifax. In spite of its name, it was a rather homey, down-to earth Indian restaurant with the casual decor and ambiance of a diner with only a brass statue of Hanuman the monkey god indicating it was Indian. They were seated at a large round table and handed menus as a waitress came over. "One round of Kingfisher Premium", said Kris as she went over to the bar. "What's that?", asked Ellen as she looked down at the menu. "It's a strong Indian beer, it's really good", he said reassuringly. "Anything here not super-spicy?", asked Jordan as he looked dubiously at the menu. "The chicken tikka masala isn't too spicy, but the vindaloo and the phall are very spicy, the phall is the spiciest", said Kris. "I'll have that then, I don't have the taste for spicy food like you guys", he retorted. "You are such a silly boy, Jordan", teased Ellen. "It's a Dutch thing, we have the crappiest food in the world. My mom thinks ketchup is spicy and thinks Taco Bell is real Mexican food", he said as everyone laughed. "Lucky us Scots developed a taste for Indian food, our food is bloody rubbish as well", she laughed as the waitress came by with a round of Kingfisher beer and took their orders. Jordan took a bit of his chicken tikka masala and nodded in approval and took a sip of beer. "Not bad at all, good call Tanger", he said. "Merci, mon ami Neerlandais. You're lucky I'm not a bastard who would have gotten you the phall, you would be in pain otherwise", he laughed. Evgeni nodded as he took a bite of his own vindaloo, then a bite of naan bread. "Indian food is popular in Russia, just like Caucasian and Georgian food. Our food is crap, except my mom make good borscht and pirogies. But that get boring eating that every day", he chuckled. Ellen giggled as she ate some of her phall, the hottest curry on the menu as the others looked impressed. "I told you, it's a Scots thing. I actually cook a pretty hot phall myself, Da really likes it", she said. "Da, it is good but I not want to eat very spicy food tonight", he teased. Kris nodded in agreement as he ate his own phall, the hot curry causing a red flush to form on his cheeks and neck and a tingling sensation in his tastebuds. "Eating spicy stuff is a great endorphin rush, it's like sex", he joked as Marie pretended to poke him in the ribs. "I hope surely hope not, monsieur Letang", she said dryly. They finished eating and split the bill as they went back outside, everyone feeling pretty good from the spicy food and the beer. Just down the street was a country bar with a three dollar special for Moosehead beers as they went inside, the dimly lit interior with Christmas lights strewn across the bar and Good Hearted Woman by Waylon Jennings on the jukebox: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k8yZPVYFc0M A long time forgotten the dreams that just fell by the way The good life he promised ain't what she's livin' today But she never complains of the bad times Or the bad things he's done, lord She just talks about the good times they've had And all the good times to come She's a good hearted woman in love with a good timin' man She loves him in spite of his ways she don't understand With teardrops & laughter they pass through this world hand in hand A good hearted woman, lovin' a good timin' man He likes the bright lights and night life and good time friends And when the party's all over she'll welcome him back home again Lord knows she don't understand him but she does the best that she can A-this good hearted woman, lovin' a good timin' man She's a good hearted woman in love with a good timin' man She loves him in spite of his ways she don't understand With teardrops & laughter they pass through this world hand in hand A good hearted woman, lovin' a good timin' man She's a good hearted woman in love with a good timin' man She loves him in spite of his ways she don't understand "One round of Moosehead Pale Ale", Kris told the bartender as they found an empty booth in the corner. Ellen smiled in satisfaction when Redneck Woman by Gretchen Wilson came over the jukebox and the waitress came over with their beers: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wObGeQO6Cj0 Well I ain't never Been the barbie doll type No I can't swig that sweet champagne I'd rather drink beer all night In a tavern or in a honky tonk Or on a 4 wheel drive tailgate I've got posters on my wall of Skynard, Kid and Strait Some people look down on me But I don't give a rip I'll stand barefooted in my own front yard with a baby on my hip Cause I'm a redneck woman And I ain't no high class broad I'm just a product of my raisin' And I say "hey y'all" and "Yee Haw" And I keep my Christmas lights on, on my front porch all year long And I know all the words to every Charlie Daniels song So here's to all my sisters out there keepin' it country Let me get a big "Hell Yeah" from the redneck girls like me Hell Yeah Hell Yeah Victoria's Secret Well their stuff's real nice Oh but I can buy the same damn thing on a Wal*Mart shelf half price And still look sexy Just as sexy As those models on TV No I don't need no designer tag to make my man want me You might think I'm trashy A little too hard core But get in my neck of the woods I'm just the girl next door Hey I'm redneck woman And I ain't no high class broad I'm just a product of my raisin' And I say "hey y'all" and "Yee Haw" And I keep my Christmas lights on, on my front porch all year long And I know all the words to every Tanya Tucker song So here's to all my sisters out there keeping it country Let me get a big "Hell Yeah" from the redneck girls like me Hell Yeah Hell Yeah I'm redneck woman And I ain't no high class broad I'm just a product of my raisin' And I say "hey y'all" and "Yee Haw" And I keep my Christmas lights on, on my front porch all year long And I know all the words to every Ol' Bocephus song So here's to all my sisters out there keeping it country Let me get a big "Hell Yeah" from the redneck girls like me Hell Yeah Hell Yeah Hell Yeah Hell Yeah Hell Yeah Hell Yeah I Said Hell Yeah "I bloody love this song", she giggled. "But you Scottish, you not a country girl", said Evgeni, a confused look on his face. Ellen just giggled and kissed his cheek, drinking a large swallow of beer. "Aye, I'm a country Scottish girl then, Zhenya. Would you rather have me listen to bloody rap rubbish?", she teased as he looked horrified. "Dude, she owned you right there", teased Jordan as he drank half his beer in one gulp. "Jordan, you are going to get sick drunk if you do that", chided Marie. "Nah, I'm 6'4 and over 200lbs, it takes me a while before I get a good buzz going", he laughed. Ellen eased out of the booth and went over to the jukebox, flipping through the selections and inserting her money as it played She's Country by Jason Aldean: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=40l1OLk7MUI You boys ever met a real country girl? Talkin, true blue, out in the woods, down home, country girl She's a hot little number in her pick-up truck Daddy's sweet money done jacked it up She's a party-all-nighter from South Carolina, a bad mamajama from down in Alabama She's a raging Cajun, a lunatic from Brunswick, juicy Georgia peach With a thick southern drawl, sexy swing and walk, brother she's all Country, from her cowboy boots to her down home roots She's country, from the songs she plays to the prayers she prays, That's the way she was born and raised, she ain't afraid to stay, country Brother she's country A hell raisin sugar when the sun goes down, mama taught her how to rip up a town Honey dripping honey from the hollerin Kentucky, getcha flippin kinda trippie like a Mississippi hippie, She's a Kansas princess, crazy mother trucker, undercover lover Thick southern drawl, sexy swing and walk, Brother she's all Country from her cowboy boots to her down home roots She's country, from the songs she plays to the prayers she prays, That's the way she was born and raised, she ain't afraid to stay, country Nothin but country Thick southern drawl Sexy swing and walk Aw show 'em how a country girl does it one time now Brother she's country, from her cowboy boots to her down home roots Nothin but country Yea yeayeaaa She's country from her cowboy boots to her down home roots She's country, from the songs she plays to the prayers she prays, That's the way she was born and raised she ain't afraid to stay, country Yea she's nothing but country She's all about the country From the backwoods she's a homegrown, down to the bone, she's country "I want to dance, Zhenya", she said as she led him onto the dance floor. Evgeni was feeling very good as they danced to the lively country song by the country heartthrob, Aldean's twangy Georgia drawl echoing from the jukebox. "You are my country girl, Ellen. This like you", he murmured. Ellen just laughed as she wrapped her arms around his neck and they danced. "Thank you, Zhenya. I do say so myself", she giggled. "Typical Ellen, all the chicks dig Aldean", said Jordan as he finished his beer and ordered another. "Oui, mon ami Neerlandais. Last year he won tickets to see Aldean at PNC Park and me and Ellen went along, it was almost all girls there. I can see why, Aldean is good-looking and the ladies like him", laughed Kris. "You got that right, I hooked up with this hot chick from West Virginia there, you know what they say about the country girls", said Jordan with a knowing wink. "Quelle cochon, Jordan", teased Kris. "How exactly did you and Geno become friends?", asked Marie, seeing that the couple were still dancing on the floor. "It's a good story, ma belle fille pays", said Kris as he ordered another round of beers... Kris felt anxious as he approached the team's practice facility at the beginning of training camp, a canvas bag with the logo of the Wilkes-Barre Penguins slung across his shoulders. He parked his beat-up used black Toyota pickup truck in the player's lot, feeling a bit of pride seeing the parking sticker on the dashboard with the Penguins logo. "Excuse me, I am here for practice", he told the security guard. "Kid, you got ID?", he asked. Kris took out his wallet and showed him the ID card the Penguins management had handed all the rookies. "All right, kid. The locker room is down the hall and on the left, it's the big yellow door", he said, handing him back the card. Kris smiled and followed his directions. "You new player, you from baby Pens?", asked a deep voice with a heavy Russian accent. Kris looked around and saw a tall young man his age smiling at him, a big grin on his face. "Yeah, I'm looking for the locker room. I'm Kris Letang", he said, extending his hand as he shook it. "Glad to meet you, Kris. I Evgeni Malkin, but everyone call me Geno, only my Mom call me that. I understand, I was rookie last year too", he said as he led the other man to the locker room. It was empty except for a few of the veteran players getting into their practice uniforms, barely giving them a second glance. "This your locker, Kris. Mine next to yours", said Evgeni. Kris nodded as he glanced up and saw his name on the tag. "Merci, Geno", he said. "What that mean?", he asked. "It means Thank you in French", he replied as he started changing into his uniform. "Ooh, nice tattoo", said Evgeni admiringly. "I got it last year for my birthday when I came home from Val d'Or in juniors", he laughed. Kris' upper right arm was covered in an elaborate tattoo he had designed himself, the top half containing the Montreal coat of arms and a Quebec flag and the Grant clan crest, the lower half showing the Ride the Lightning album cover and a Rickenbacker bass with a banner reading RIP Cliff with the chorus of the Four Horsemen on a banner below it. "I like Metallica too, very awesome band. I want to get tattoo too, but not during season", said Evgeni as he dressed in his practice uniform. "What kind of tattoo you want to get?", he asked. "My family is Romanov, my great-great grandma was mistress to Alexander III and my great-grandfather Pavel was their son. When the revolution happen, they fled to Siberia and she married a man named Malkin. We always know we are Romanov, but during Communists we could not tell anyone. Since you Canadian and we in America, we can tell you", said Evgeni proudly. "Wow, that's awesome", said Kris in awe. "Da", he agreed. Evgeni took out his phone and showed him the design he wanted that he had saved to Photobucket, showing the black Romanov double headed eagle and his own family's coat of arms. "My great-great grandma, her family rich merchants who made nobles by Nicholas I, my family was a noble one", he said, showing his other coat of arms which consisted of a brown bear with a crown and a red robe with a sword in its mouth. "Whoa, my first day here and I've met Russian nobility. I got to tell Mom and Luc this", said Kris dryly. "You got place to stay, my girlfriend and I break up and I live by myself", said Evgeni. "I'm staying at a Days Inn on the interstate, it's a lot better than the places we stayed in juniors", he chuckled. "You no stay there, you can stay with me. I hate living alone, it boring and my parents not coming until playoffs start. You stay with me", said Evgeni. "Okay Geno, I can't resist Russian nobility. I just need to get my stuff from the hotel", said Kris. "All right. You have Ipod, my run out of batteries", said Evgeni. "Oui", said Kris as he hooked up his Ipod to the speakers and it played Harvester of Sorrow by Metallica: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=60_FwCY2L4A My life suffocates Planting seeds of hate I've loved, turned to hate Trapped far beyond my fate I give, you take This life that I forsake Been cheated of my youth You turned this lie to truth Anger, misery You'll suffer unto me Harvester of sorrow Language of the mad Harvester of sorrow Pure black, looking clear My work is done soon here Try getting back to me Get back which used to be Drink up Shoot in Let the beatings begin Distributor of pain Your loss becomes my gain Anger Misery You'll suffer unto me Harvester of sorrow Language of the mad Harvester of sorrow All have said their prayers Invade their nightmares To see into my eyes You'll find where murder lies Infanticide Harvester of sorrow Language of the mad Harvester of sorrow Language of the mad Harvester of sorrow "This awesome, one of my favorite Metallica songs", said Evgeni as he gave him the metal salute... |
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| The Cosmic Gerbil | May 27, 2012, 4:00 pm Post #118 |
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Forbidden Forest Ranger
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That is sad that Luc Bourdon died so young ![]() Ellen was funny when she was swearing though
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| Lucifer's Angel | May 27, 2012, 4:54 pm Post #119 |
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Heavy Metal Seanchai
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Chapter 45 "I hope we get some answers soon, this has become one long-ass drive", said Jordan sardonically as they prepared to board the ferry from Sydney in Cape Breton Island to Newfoundland. "Je sais, we have been driving for over three days. This have better not be a stupid prank, then I am flying back to Montreal", said Kris. Everyone was tired and on edge from the long drive and the uncertainty of the meaning behind the enigmatic message. The weather at the northern tip of Nova Scotia was cool and misty, the skies a dull gray with tiny patches of blue peeking through, the dock crowded with fishing boats and passengers waiting for the ferry. The huge passenger ferry came into view as it headed towards the dock. It stopped ten minutes later as the group got back inside the Navigator, slowly driving into the belly of the ship and securing the car in the hold. It took several flights of stairs until they were topside on the deck, the cool breeze from the Cabot Strait indicating rain might be coming. They watched as the last of the passengers boarded and the ship's whistle blared a warning, the anchor lifting as the ferry pulled away from the harbor. "Where exactly do we have to go?", asked Jordan as the ferry approached Channel-Port aux Basques in Newfoundland. "It's at the northern tip of the island, we ought to be there in an hour if there's no delays", said Kris as he looked at a map on his phone. "The sooner we do this, the better. I have strange feeling about this", said Evgeni as he hastily crossed himself. Ellen nodded sympathetically. A mist seemed to shroud the island harbor with a thin film of very light rain that obscured a lot, the other ships and the houses barely visible except for a faint outline. Within ten minutes of docking, they were all in Jordan's truck heading northwestwards towards the ancient town at the northernmost extremity of Newfoundland. The narrow two-lane road skirted the edge of the shore with the Gulf of St. Lawrence directly to the left. The gray skies met equally gray water and it was difficult to see where one ended and the other began, only the darker gray rocks separating the two. They arrived in the town an hour later as Kris looked for the address, finding it as they came to a stop. The house was at the very end of the street at a distance away from the other houses, as though it had secrets no one should know. Kris led the group over to the house and took a deep breath, knocking on the door. There was the sound of shuffling feet as they stopped, the door slowly creaking open. A plump, middle-aged woman with two long gray braids to her waist looked at them, a flicker of recognition in her calm silvery eyes. She was of average height and slightly overweight, wearing a brown dress with fringe and numerous beads that looked as though it was made of suede as she bowed a few inches. "Hello, please follow me", she said, speaking with a slight Scandinavian accent. The group followed her inside towards the parlor, the sense of foreboding growing with every step. "Da, what are you doing here!", Ellen exclaimed when she saw Alisdair in the parlor. "Oui, and what are you doing here, Papa?", asked Marie when she saw Jean. The woman sat down on the couch as another man entered the room and kissed the woman on the cheek. He too was middle-aged and wore loose trousers held up by a rope and a leather vest which exposed his huge forearms, his long hair and beard the color of silver. "Hello and welcome, I am Magnus Thorvaldssen, and this is my wife Helgi, we are of Sol Duga. I am the one who sent the letter", he said in his heavily-accented rumbly voice. "Bonjour, monsieur et madame. But what is this all about?", asked Kris, forcing himself to sound calm. Helgi said nothing but poured everyone a generous measure of cherry schanpps. "I am the head of Sol Duga and we are waiting for one final guest. Once he is here, I will explain everything", said Magnus. There was a knock on the door as Helgi went to answer it. A minute later she appeared with a man clad in a long black robe with white fur trim and an equally white beard and hair. Everyone was drawn to him as he had a powerful charisma, his height of nearly seven feet and penetratin silver eyes enough to make him stand out anywhere. "This is Hugo Letang, he is a Druid from Brittany and very powerful. This is your father, Kris", said Magnus. Kris felt very numb as the glass slipped from his fingers and the drink spilled all over the carpet, unable to move as every muscle seemed paralyzed. He barely noticed when Hugo walked over and put a slender, white hand on his shoulder, forcing him to look up. "Magnus is right, I am your father, Kris", he said, his deep melodic voice soothing to the ears with an accent that sounded vaguely like a cross between Welsh and French. "Then why did you leave Mom, asshole?"', he growled. "I will explain everything, Kris. It was for your own good. I am immortal, I was born in Brittany in Gaul in the year 3AD. My father was a Druid priest and I was groomed to follow in his footsteps, which I trained for when I was twelve. I married my wife Bronwyn when I became a full priest at eighteen and she was sixteen. It was about fifty years since Gaul was part of the Roman Empire, our town was one of the larger ones in the area and it was quite prosperous. But the head Druid hated the Romans and refused to make the annual tribute to the emperor, even though the rest of us did. The Romans left people alone as long as they paid the tribute, I didn't want trouble. There was a temple of Vesta in town with the priestesses from local families of standing, including my niece Jemma who was my sister's daughter, her husband was a Roman merchant. She was a younger daughter and had a calling so she became a priestess when she was twelve, lovely girl. Our head Druid lusted after her and it didn't matte she was a sacred Virgin of Vesta, that would not deter him in the least. When the Vestals were participating at a pageant for the festival of Megalesia, to honor Cybele the Mother Goddess, he snatched her away from her fellow Vestals and carried her off with soldiers in pursuit. I was at our sacred oak grove praying when he came with Jemma. They were in a nearby part of the grove and she was screaming, I rushed over and saw him about to violate my niece. I tore him off of her and we fought, he wounded my arm with his knife but I mortally wounded him with my own knife. With his dying breath, he put the curse on me. I would be immortal and suffer no physical pain, but my family would die, I would never have a wife or son who lived past my age of thirty. He then died and Jemma and I had to take the body to town away from the grove. The soldiers threw the body into a pit where it was devoured by pigs. Jemma was allowed to return to the Vestal temple as she was still a virgin. While all this was taking place, Bronwyn and our son Madoc had been murdererd by thieves in our house, I had to bury the bodies. Since then, I have been around France and later Canada and have seen many things, loved many women and fathered numerous sons. In spite of the curse, I get very lonely, I don't have friends and have to keep moving else people become suspicious. I met Christine and didn't marry her became of the curse, that's why I was not around, Kris. I don't expect you to forgive me, but I do ask you to understand", said Hugo. Kris slowly nodded, his head bobbing up and down like a puppet's. "Ah, merde. So if you are my father, how come you don't look like me?", he asked, just a bit of unease in his voice. Hugo gave him an enigmatic little smile. Suddenly, he disappeared in a puff of smoke and just as quickly returned as Kris almost fell backwards onto the couch in shock. He was staring at an exact mirror image of himself, from his long black hair under a black Pirates cap to his jeans and Kill 'Em All shirt and sneakers. "What the fuck?", he muttered. Hugo changed back to his normal form as everyone was still in a bit of shock. "I can shift shapes, I can turn myself into anything I desire", he replied. "Okay, what do you want from us?", asked Kris. "I asked you all to come here because I need you to do a very big thing for us", said Magnus as he glanced over at Jean and Alisdair. Jean set down his empty cup and smiled sadly at his daughter. "Marie, you were not born in 1991 like you thought, you and I are time travelers. And you were actually born on March 3, 1941. And I did play for the Americans, but the New York Americans, not the Rochester Americans", he said. "Why didn't you tell me, Papa? So we have been living a lie, why?", she asked in horror. "Marie, when your mother died and I shattered my knees, Sol Duga offered me this opportunity. Helgi and Magnus sent me forward in time under the condition that I help them in the future. I already knew members of Sol Duga, who saved Jerome's life after he tried to become a Nazi spy and they persuaded him not to do so", he said. "Da, what is going on here?", asked Ellen. "We are time travelers too, Ellen. I was born in Golspie at Dunrobin Castle, a younger son to George Sutherland, Duke of Sutherland. Your mother Margaret Gunn was the daughter of the local wise woman and I had to make her my mistreess as Da did not allow us to marry. The local villagers thought she was a witch, she had six fingers on each hand and extra toes like yourself. When you were a babe, you were at the castle with me when a mob of villagers led by the village priest dragged them from the house and killed them, throwing the bodies into a pit and stealing everything in the house. I was told by my father to leave the castle and not return as the villagers wanted to kill you too. We were escorted to Inverness by my father's soldiers and I had taken a large amount of money and he set up an account with a bank for living expenses. I bought a house and settled there. Magnus came into my shop and when he saw Ellen, he made me the offer to come with him. That is how we ended up in Pittsburgh, the money I had in the bank accrued so much interest I will never have to work ever, I just transfer some of the money to a bank in Pittsburgh", he said. "How much is there in the bank?". asked Ellen, her mind still processing everything she had heard. "There is over two hundred million pounds in the bank and it keeps gaining interest. If you have a child they will inherit the money", replied Alisdair. "What the fuck? This is the fucking craziest thing I ever heard, for real? I'm out of here", said Jordan as he tried to run away. To his horror, he found himself unable to move his legs, feeling like they were encased in concrete for all the mobility he had. "What the fuck are you doing?", he growled. "Mr. Staal, you cannot leave. We cannot let anyone know about us, imagine how people will react. Otherwise, I will send you back in time to stop you from talking, people will treat you far worse than modern people ever will", said Hugo calmly. Jordan was terrified as he tried to calm down, the matter-of-fact tone in the wizard's voice far more menacing than any shouting as his shoulders sagged in defeat. "Okay, dude", he muttered. "Okay, but what do we do?", asked Evgeni. "You have to break the curse, my last son Paul was a jazz musician in the 30's and he would have been the one to break the curse, his unborn child would have been the one to do so. But he was killed by gangsters and his pregnant wife suffered a miscarriage and died from complications. You must go back in time and prevent this from happening, but you must do something else first", said Hugo. "Mr. Malkin, do you know about Tunguska?", asked Magnus. "Da, in Siberia. This big thing crash into forest and kill all trees, I think it was, ah, what do you call it, space rock? Something like that", he replied. "You mean like a meteor, Geno? That was what happened in the video for All Nightmare Long by Metallica, with all the zombies and the spores. What does that have to do with anything?", asked Kris. Helgi took out a burlap sack and opened it, revealing an opaque green ball. It was slightly larger than a bowling ball and appeared to be made of very heavy, thick glass with a slight eerie glow coming from within. "This is a stone from Tunguska, you will need one to go back in time. You need to go to Tunguska and get another stone, only then you can go back in time", she said. "But how the hell we get there?", asked Jordan. "I have already gotten that", said Hugo, opening a folder and taking out a bunch of passports and official-looking documents. "These are all the documents you need to travel, you are going to fly from Halifax to London and make your way into Russia. You have three weeks to arrive in Tunguska, your contact is Ivan Pavelvich Sutherland, he will help you with the stone and you are taking the train, Russian airplanes are not the most reliable", said Magnus. "But won't people miss us?", asked Kris. "No, for the time you are gone, you will not exist in the present, no one will notice you are gone. The flight from Halifax leaves in five hours, you better go", said Hugo as he handed Kris all the documents. "How long do we have to do all this stuff?", asked Jordan. "You have six months until January 15, 1937 to succeed. If not, you will be stuck there forever", replied Hugo. "Shit, we better get moving", he muttered. "May the gods bless you and keep you from harm", prayed Helgi. |
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| The Cosmic Gerbil | May 28, 2012, 5:05 pm Post #120 |
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Forbidden Forest Ranger
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The glowing green ball sounds cool Going back in time sounds scary but I can see why it would be important to prevent bad things from happening. I hope that the guys are successful
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I would like to have a beer with Cliff...that would be safer, lol)
Lol, I am very small, so I would feel tiny in front of all those tall blokes


8:49 PM Jul 10