Haven't blogged since January of 2013. Haven't fired up the Odd Couple machine since (winces) November 11, 2011, a scant 887 days ago by my math. So consider this episode of the Odd Couple my offering to the Hockey Gods for this playoff season. I am humbled.
Interior. Tazer and Kaner are eating breakfast inside their suite at a downtown St. Louis hotel in advance of the Blackhawks first round playoff series against the Blues. Tazer is wearing grey flannel pajamas with his initials embroidered over the left breast pocket. He is alternating between reading that morning's edition of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch while eating half of a hollowed out cantaloupe filled with cottage cheese and a bowl of oatmeal. Kaner is wearing his Despicable Me minions pajamas and is eating a bowl of Franken-berry cereal and a glass of Nesquik Strawberry Milk. Kaner and Tazer's faithful valet, Rinkesh, a 12 year-old boy Kaner purchased several years ago is nearby ironing one of Master Toews' dress shirts.
Kaner [To Tazer, through a mouthful of Franken-berries]: Bro, I know who did that.
Tazer [To Kaner, distractedly from behind his newspaper]: Did what, Patrick?
Kaner: Stole all that peanut butter, bro.
Tazer [Lowers a corner of his paper and raises an eyebrow at Kaner from behind his reading glasses]: What peanut butter would you be referring to, Patrick?
Kaner [Gesturing at the front page of Tazer's paper]: The peanut butter on the front of your paper, bro!
Tazer folds his paper in half and examines the front page.
Tazer: Are you that advanced in your reading lessons, Patrick? I'm proud of you. I didn't think you had advanced much beyond your ABC's by this point.
Rinkesh [Looking up from his ironing]: Oh, Master Toews! Master Kane has progressed wonderfully since you set me to teaching him his letters.
Kaner: Yeah, bro. I can even spell my name now.
Tazer: Very good, Patrick. And well done, Rinkesh. So what was it you were saying about this peanut butter nonsense?
Kaner: I know who stole that shit.
Tazer looks at the front page again. He had only read the headline while skimming the front page earlier. It read: Massive Peanut Butter Theft. Tazer quickly read the whole story.
St. Louis - In a daring day-time robbery yesterday, two armed men took control of a local Peter Pan peanut butter manufacturing facility and escaped with approximately ten thousand jars of creamy peanut butter.
After collecting all of their cell phones, the perpetrators reportedly forced the forty-two Peter Pan employees on duty at the time of the robbery into a large walk-in refrigerator at gun point and locked them inside. Approximately thirty minutes later, two employees were able to break open the refrigerator door. Upon exiting the refrigerator, Duane Roscoe, the plant manager, discovered that two semi-trailers, each loaded with five thousand jars of creamy peanut butter, were gone from the loading dock. Mr. Roscoe estimated the retail value of the stolen peanut butter at $25,000.
Lieutenant John Buford of the St. Louis Police Department said that detectives were reviewing video footage of the events and described the robbers as both dressed in black shirts and pants with black ski masks over their faces. Buford went on to describe one as very tall and broad and the other shorter and slighter in stature.
"We are urging any members of the public with information related to this incident to come forward," Buford added.
If you have any information related to this case, please contact the St. Louis Police Department at.....
Tazer [Looking back up at Kaner from the newspaper]: Please tell me that you weren't involved in this crime, Patrick.
The words "...the other shorter and slighter in stature." raced through Tazer's mind.
Kaner: C'mon, bro. You know that I only use the peanut butter and jelly combo shit for my PB and J sandos.
Rinkesh: Master Kane prefers his peanut butter and jelly sandwiches served on Wonder Bread with the crusts removed and cut into triangular halves.
Kaner: Fuckin' A, Rinks.
Tazer: Of course, forgive me for impugning your character, Patrick.
Kaner: I impugned your mom last night, bro. She loved it.
Tazer: I'm sure.
Kaner: Spermed her up.
Tazer: You repulse me.
Tazer resumes reading the paper.
Kaner: Don't you wanna know who hijacked the peanut butter trucks, bro?
Kaner [To Rinkesh]: New nickname for my cock, Rinks. The peanut butter truck. Write that down.
Rinkesh: Of course, sir.
Rinkesh scribbles in a notebook.
Kaner [To Tazer]: It was Backes, bro.
Tazer [Lowers his paper again and looks at Kaner]: I beg your pardon?
Kaner: Backes, bro. Shoulda seen all the empty peanut butter jars in that dude's room in Sochi.
Tazer: David Backes?
Kaner: YES GOD DAMN IT! DAVID MOTHERFUCKING BACKES!
Tazer: I'm not listening to any more of this poppycock. David Backes is a fine, if perhaps a bit neandrathalic, captain, as well as a god-fearing and charitable man.
Kaner [To Rinkesh]: New nickname for my dong. The Poppy Cock. Got that?
Rinkesh: Indeed I do sir.
Rinkesh scribbles in his notebook again.
Kaner [To Tazer]: It was Peter Pan too. A whole suitcase of Pan Pan Peanut Butter, bruh.
Tazer: Have you considered that peanut butter is an excellent source of protein and that David was merely ensuring that he had an adequate supply on hand as there was no guarantee of finding his preferred brand of peanut butter in Russia? As I consider it further, I doubt the communist mind has even conceived of peanut butter. I commend David on his forethought.
Kaner: Pretty sure Backes jacked those trucks, bro. You ever see Peter Pan, bro?
Tazer [Sighing]: I believe I saw the animated film as a child, yes.
Tazer reflects for a moment.
Tazer: When I think about Peter Pan, I seem to remember a thoroughly sensible father character.
Kaner [Aghast]: Mr. Darling?!
Tazer [Snapping his fingers] Yes! Mr. Darling! I quite enjoyed his commanding presence as well as his firm hand while dealing with several unruly children. Not unlike my role as a captain.
Kaner: Mr. Darling is a black belt cock-knocker, you dip shit. He doesn't even believe in Peter Pan for fuck's sake!
Tazer [Concerned]: Patrick, do you believe in Peter Pan?
Kaner: We hang out every time I drink absinthe.
Tazer: I've told you not to consume that filthy beverage. It will rot your mind.
Kaner: If I could only get small enough, I would love to fuck Tinkerbell.
Tazer [Setting his paper down]: I'm going to take a shower.
Tazer gets up and leaves the room.
Kaner [Yelling at Tazer as he leaves]: He plays here in St. Louis, how about that, fuck face? It's all connected!
Tazer [Yelling from the bathroom]: You are delusional, Patrick!
Kaner [To Rinkesh]: If I got small enough to fuck Tinkerbell, I wouldn't want my cock to shrink too though. You know what I'm saying, Rinks?
Rinkesh: Perfectly, sir.
* * *
The following is a text message exchange between Kaner and Backes later in the morning.
Kaner: how it hangin
Backes: long & 2 left
Kaner: i no wut u did
Backes: wut i do?
Kaner: tuc p nut buttr trux!
Backes: haha gud 1 dude. Osh-dawg told me storie this morn. We laffed. lol.
Kaner: i no u tooc p nut buttr!
Backes: y u bustn my balls dude?
Kaner: not ball bustn gunna call cops on u
Backes: dudebro calm down - how bowt u come to my house today and we watch lady and the tramp. u like that?
Kaner: i like teh tramp cuz he iz skruffie.
Backes: & i sho u my new puppie!
* * *
Later that afternoon. Interior. The movie room in the basement David Backes' house. Lady and th Tramp has just ended.
Kaner [Sniffling and wiping away tears]: Good cartoon, bro.
Backes: I know, dude. Can't believe you thought I stole all that peanut butter. Why would you think that? You hurt my feelings.
Kaner: Cuz you always had so much peanut butter in Sochi, bro.
Backes: Ah. Yes. Sochi. You were never meant to see that, Patrick.
Backes: Perhaps you would like to see my newest puppy?
Kaner [Confused]: Yeah I guess but hey, why you talking like half-a-fag Tazer now.
Backes [Under his breath to himself]: Toews is half a fag. I'll take care of him later.
Backes [Aloud to Kaner]: This is my natural speaking voice, Patrick. No more need for pretense at this point. Follow me.
Backes leads Kaner out of the movie room down a hallway into a utility room. Pausing at an electrical panel, Backes opens the panel door and flips a switch witch opens a small secret door just to the right of Backes.
Kaner [Excitedly]: A secret passage, bro?
Backes: Just so. Now follow me, Patrick.
The passage is actually a narrow set of stairs leading down and illuminated by a buzzing bank of fluorescent tubes. At the bottom of the stairs is another small door. Backes unlocks this door with a set of keys from his pocket. Kaner can hear the barking of what sounds like several dogs behind the door. As Backes unlocks and opens the door, the barking becomes overwhelmingly loud and the musty air is heavy with the smell of dog food, dog waste, and peanut butter. Kaner turns to try and run back up the stairs but Backes is used to this reaction and whips around in time to grab Kaner's jacket and haul him down into the dog dungeon. The much larger Backes tosses Kaner face down onto the cold concrete floor. Backes closes the door to the staircase behind him.
Backes [Shouting above the barking dogs]: What do you think of my play pen, Patrick?
Kaner lifts his head off the cold floor and looks around. It's a long, low concrete shoe box of a place. Maybe a hundred feet long and fifty feet wide. The ceiling must only be seven feet tall. One of the long walls is lined with dog kennels. There must be at least twenty with a howling dog in each one. Across from the wall are countless boxes of Peter Pan brand Peanut Butter. There are empty peanut butter jars scattered on the floor throughout the room. There are also leashes and several different odd looking chairs.
Kaner: I knew you stole that shit! NEVER TRUST A BLUE! THAT'S WHAT RINKS SAID BEFORE I CAME HERE! NEVER TRUST A BLUE! WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS PLACE YOU SICK FUCK?!
Backes: It's my play pen, Patrick, as I said. This is where I come to love my animals. And where they love me back.
Kaner [Screaming from his knees]: DOG FUCKER!!!
Backes: Sometimes. Sometimes I pleasure them manually, sometimes orally, sometimes vaginally, sometimes anally. It all depends on the mood. What I enjoy the most, however is receiving oral pleasure from my beautiful beasts. Hence the peanut butter.
Backes takes a dog chain off the wall and loops it around Kaner's neck while he is still on his knees.
Backes [Shouting]: Let's go now, Patrick and I will introduce you to my two newest canines which I was lucky enough to rescue from Russia and bring home with me.
Kaner [Screaming]: YOU'RE MARRIED YOU SICK DOG FUCKER!
Backes: She isn't my wife. I bought her from a fellow in Canada several years ago. Indeed, Kelly is merely a house slave. Come along now.
Backes kicks Kaner lightly in the ribs as he leads Kaner down the row of kennels on his hands and knees.
Backes: Ah, here we are. Sasha and Vladimir. My lovelies.
Both dogs are barking madly as Backes and Kaner approach their kennels. Backes takes his keys out again, unlocks both kennel doors and lets the dogs run out in the dungeon.
Kaner: What are you going to do with me, dog-fucker?
Backes: I will let Vladimir have you from behind. Then perhaps you'll take oral pleasure from Sasha, yes? You're a small man, Patrick so I will have to make some adjustments to my chairs for you. Then I anticipate eviscerating you, letting the beasts eat your entrails for dinner tonight, then finally I will tan your hide and turn it into a summer dress for Kelly. That will be a nice project to work on during the playoffs to get my mind off work. Without you, the Blues shall triumph in the first round and go on to hoist Lord Stanley's chalice in June. How does that sound, eh? I will enjoy serving my animals kibble from the Cup this summer.
Kaner: Go fuck yourself.
Backes: No, Patrick, that's what the dogs are for.
A short time later Kaner is strapped into position on one of the oddly shaped pieces of furniture. He is bent forward at the waist and Backes is pulling Kaner's pants down around his ankles. Backes has positioned Vladimir the dog on a small platform above Kaner's butt.
Backes: I won't lube you up. Vladimir is quite a small animal. I expect you'll accept him relatively easily. Let me prepare him for you properly for you first though.
Kaner hears a popping sound as Backes unscrews the lid off a fresh jar of peanut butter then several minutes pass as all Kaner hears are various slurps, barks, and moans. Eventaully Kaner feels a jostling on the platform behind him.
Backes: Here we are then. I'll just guide him into you then, shall I?
At this point, the small door Backes and Kaner had entered the Dungeon through bursts open as Tazer and Rinkesh appear. Startled, Backes turns around and locks eyes with Tazer.
Backes: I've been looking forward to this day.
Tazer: As have I.
Kaner [To Tazer]: HE'S A DOG FUCKER, BRO!
Tazer: So I see. Rinkesh, get Patrick out of that...thing.
Rinkesh unstraps Kaner from the harness while Backes and Tazer circle each other.
Tazer: It's over, David.
Backes: Is it?
More quickly than Kaners' eyes could follow, Backes produces a long-bladed knife from somewhere on his person and dives forward as if to bury in Tazer's chest. The knife jams hard against something underneath Tazer's clothes as Backes' hand is sliced open with the jolt.
Backes: I...I don't understand.
Tazer: I know, David. Perfection is a hard lesson to learn.
Tazer slowly unbuttons his shirt to reveal the glint of his titanium skeleton to Backes under the surface of the knife's cut.
Backes [Choking]: Cyborg!
Tazer [With a wink to Backes]: Made in Manitoba, dog-fornicator.
The dungeon is then swarmed by federal agents and animal control officers as Kaner is led upstairs.
Kaner [To Tazer]: You saved me, bro! I about to get fucked by a Russian dog cock!
Tazer: Never fear, brother mine. Now let us go into this good night and wreak vengeance upon the Blues of St. Louis, a rather backwards community which I've found to be over-populated by alcoholic hill jacks.
LET'S GO HAWKS!
For additional stupidity you can follow me on Twitter @nCornick