The Hairdresser and the Rise of the Red Army: Part Two
Characters: I think it would be better if I stated who wasn't in this. Everyone and their mum. (NHL)
Summary: Uh, the Swedes want to destroy a non-Swedish Swede and the Russians want to take over the NHL
Rating: R, not suitable for children under the age of 17 unless accompanied by a parent or guardian
Disclaimer: Wow, if this shite was real then I would be a great reporter. Fizake.
A/N: There is a lot of inside jokes in here....if you need or want any clarifications then please just ask. I don't mind explaining or reminding.
The Rookie Army is being summoned and assembled unerneath Whole Foods
somewhere in Chicago
Patrick Kane was dancing the Cupid Shuffle in his bright green boxers when his cell phone started buzzing. Reading the message, he ran towards Jonny’s study, “Jooooooooonny!”
Jonathan Toews looked up from Fahrenheit 451, annoyed with his life partner. “What is it now, Patrick Kane?”
Jumping up excitedly, Patrick landed in Jonny’s lap. “We got a text from Gary Roberts.”
-
somewhere in Montreal
Carey Price sat in front of his white vanity, eyes trained on the beautiful creature reflected back at him. He was dragging a comb through his pompadour when the cell phone vibrated.
Looking at the message, he rolled his eyes in a most spectacular manner. “But I had a manicure appointment today. Damn.”
-
somewhere in St. Louis
Erik Johnson swung the paintbrush in his hand across the canvas, brown strokes streaking the painting. He smiled to himself and stepped backwards to look at his art fully when his cell phone suddenly beeped.
Looking at the message, he grinned. “Maybe Jonny will be there.” And he looked back at the painting of a dark-haired boy with wide eyes and a serious mouth.
-
somewhere in San Jose
Torrey Mitchell heard the cell phone ring but didn’t care to get it. He was too busy joy-riding his Toyota Corolla through the streets in the California sun.
When he finally looked at the message, he sighed. “Guess I gotta put Tanya in the garage for a while.”
-
somewhere in Boston
Milan Lucic landed a final punch in the inflated red bag and then looked down at his cell phone. He had heard it ring and looked at the message.
Smiling, he punched the bag one last time for good measure. “Looks like I’m done with you today, Mr. Beach.”
-
somewhere in Edmonton
Andrew Cogliano threw the PS3 remote at an escaping Sam Gagner, “You know that I have to win.” Then his cell phone vibrated suddenly.
Looking at the message, Andrew chased Sam into his basement bedroom, “It’s time.”
-
somewhere in Pittsburgh
Brooks Orpik was at the end of his rope. “Ryan, if you don’t stop crying I will come in there and give you something to cry about.”
The threat didn’t work and Ryan Whitney kept the bathroom door locked. It was unfortunately his time of the month and nothing could get him to come out, even chocolate.
Sighing to himself, Brooks pushed all of Ryan’s hair products off of the kitchen table with a sweep of his arm and sat down. He never understood why Ryan always had hairdressing products but never used them.
Suddenly, there was a crash at the front door. And Gary Roberts stomped into the kitchen, “Brooks, where is Ryan?”
Unable to get over the fear of Gary Roberts speaking directly to him, Brooks’s eyes remained wide open. (And still do to this day.) Then he pointed to the bathroom door, unable to say a word.
Turning his eyes towards the door, Gary Roberts glared spectacularly and the entire wall crumbled before them.
Ryan was sitting on the toilet seat, head in his hands. He had on a shower cap, a timer sitting on the sink. An opened box of hair dye sat on the tiled floor.
Stepping forward, Gary Roberts addressed Ryan directly. “It is time.”
“What the monkey’s balls are you talking about?” Ryan stood up and sniffled. “What do you mean it’s time? Time for what you crazy old man?”
Gary Roberts sighed, “I should have known.” He would only let one person talk to him like that, and that was The Hairdresser. Looking at Ryan, Gary Roberts grabbed his head. “This is gonna hurt.”
“Seriously, what the ass are you doing?” Ryan tried to rip Gary Roberts’s hands off his ears but it was no use.
Closing his eyes, Gary Roberts began to chant. “Oh Waaade Red-den, our home and na-tive land.”
“You old crazy fucking - “ but then Ryan began to convulse and foam at the mouth and only Gary Roberts knows what Ryan was about to call him.
Brooks stood up and backed up against the oven, “Oh my Mark Eaton, he’s got the rabies.”
“He doesn’t have rabies. That’s an STD.” Then continuing the chant, Gary Roberts held fast to Ryan’s ears. “True Waaaade love in all thy Sens com-mand.”
And Ryan fell to the ground as Gary Roberts completed the chant.
Suddenly, there was a poof followed by red and blue smoke. Wade Redden appeared in the midst of all the smoke and looked extremely concerned about something. He had on only tightie-whities and was holding a purple Hilary Duff piñata in his hand.
Gary Roberts took one look at Wade and said, “You could have at least put some pants on.”
Wade laughed, “Please, pants are for women.” Then he looked down at a squirming, babbling Ryan. “The transformation is almost complete.” Leaning down, Wade tapped Ryan on his chin and whispered the magic words, “Keeping it real in Ottawa.”
Brooks coughed through the smoke and ran out of the house, “He ain’t worth all that weird shit. I’m going to Halbert’s condo.”
-
underneath Whole Foods in Pittsburgh, PA…….the next day
Gary Roberts again paced in front of his giant Post-It. “This is the day we have all feared. The Red Army has risen and with them the Robotic IKEAn Swedes. But we are prepared.” A knock on the door interrupted his speech. He turned angrily towards the interruption, “WHAT?!”
“It’s Darryl-pickle, my Garykins.”
Blushing, Gary Roberts ran towards the door. He whispered loudly, “Not now Darryl-pickle. Garykins is in the middle of business.”
“Oh, okay. I’ll be in your chambers. Don’t forget the soy butter.”
Turning back towards the assembled rookies, Gary Roberts barked. “Any questions?”
“Yeah, uh, who is going to lead us into battle?” Erik Johnson was a very brave soul to ask Gary Roberts a question.
And with that question, Gary Roberts grinned. “The Hairdresser.”
The boys all gasped in unison. Sam Gagner shook his head, “I thought he was a myth. Kind of like Sasquatch or girls.”
Andrew Cogliano elbowed his life partner, “Girls are real. I saw one once.”
Gary Roberts ignored the ignorant teenagers before him and walked towards the other stone door. Opening it, he said, “Hairdresser, you may come in now.”
White smoke billowed in from the outer room along with a tall caped shadow. He stepped into the light and the rookies gasped in unison again. Gary Roberts groaned, “You gay-bos better stop that shit right now.”
Ryan Whitney stood in his true regalia before the boys. He had on green basketball shorts, a Red Sox baseball hat, Bruins jersey that was two sizes too tight and a Patriots towel tied around his neck. The cape blew in the wind…
Gary Roberts waved a hand at Jordan Staal in the corner, “Shut off the fan.” And Jordan smacked Max who hit the off button quickly.
Carey Price’s mouth dropped, “He’s The Hairdresser? Are you fucking kidding me? He’s a sissy.”
“He doesn’t even know how to hit,” Milan Lucic joined in with his two-cents.
Everyone was laughing until Patrick Kane went too far. “His own coach made him play left wing.” And the laughter stopped abruptly, no one brought that incident up. Wade Redden was a reminder of that, and he was in another world now.
Turning his head towards the voice, The Hairdresser shook his head. “I wouldn’t have said that if I were you.” Then he pointed a clam chowder-shaped comb at Patrick, “When we won in Buffalo.”
And Patrick squealed as his hair started to perm quickly, leaving tight ringlet curls in its wake. Jonny just rolled his eyes at the childishness of it all, “Is that all you can do?”
Finally, Gary Roberts stepped between The Hairdresser’s quivering comb and Jonny’s judgmental eyebrows. “We have work to do. You can settle differences later.”
-
Henrik Zetterberg’s backyard somewhere in Sweden……..the next day
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY FOUND THE HAIRDRESSER?!” Nick Lidstrom paced angrily in front of his Post-It. He brandished his hockey stick like a sickle, swinging at everyone seated in the first row as they jumped backwards in fear. With a deep breath, he calmed down considerably and looked at the visitor.
Marian Hossa was leaning against a stone birdbath held up by a tiny gnome. He was wearing a red t-shirt, too-tight jeans and brown suede loafers. The typical outfit of a traitor who dresses for less. He took the toothpick out of his mouth, “That’s what I heard from Jordan Staal while getting a few things I forgot at Recchi’s. He doesn’t have an inside voice.”
Lidstrom nodded his head in understanding, “I see, poor kid.” Then he started his angry pacing again, “This changes everything. The Hairdresser is the only…thing that can foil our plans of destroying the ImitationSwede.”
Marian pointed his toothpick at a burlap sack near the sliding glass doors. It was oddly pear-shaped and making a lot of grunting noises. “What’s that?”
Lidstrom eyed Marian angrily and pointed to his forehead which had a red mark across it. “What’s that?” The mark resembled a tea-bag and it intrigued Lidstrom from the moment he first saw him.
Touching his forehead lightly, Marian growled at Lidstrom. “Nothing.”
Lidstrom shrugged, “That’s just a sack of pears, then.”
Suddenly, the sack began to sing. WHOOOOOA!!! I FEEL GOOD!!! And it started to dance, jigging all over the patio. Marian just shrugged, “Whatever you say boss.”
Sighing, Lidstrom pointed at Michel Therrien who was bound to a chair. “I thought that we paid you to demoralize Ryan Whitney so bad that he wouldn’t remember his alter-ego.”
Therrien just shrugged, “I did ze best I could. I even made him play leff wing.”
“AHH! Fudge, fudge, fudge.” Lidstrom then cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “I have to call the Russians and tell them that we go to Washington D.C. tonight.”
-
outside the White House…..somewhere in Washington D.C. in the middle of the night
Evgeni Malkin paced in front of his assembled troops, all dressed in red spandex bodysuits with the Russian coat of arms stenciled on them. “Tonight, we get the missing piece to the puzzle. Tonight is where we fight. Tonight is when we become men.”
Ilya Kovalchuk yawned, “When do I get to point at someone and then turtle? This is boring me to tears.”
Evgeni Nabokov giggled at Ilya. “I just wanna get this over with so that we can take over the world. That’s gonna be hella fun.”
Suddenly, there was a whooshing sound and yellow parachutes with blue pod chairs attached to them began to fall from to the ground. The Russians knew that the Swedes were arriving.
Nick Lidstrom was the first to land, of course because he did nothing wrong, and he rolled up to Evgeni. Flipping his helmet off, Lidstrom’s hair bounced back to shape. “We are here. I hope that the Swede is alright.”
Evgeni laughed as the other pod chairs landed, “I hope that Datsyuk is alright.” And both leaders threw back their heads and laughed.
Niklas Kronwall dragged a heavy burlap sack towards the two men, joining in on the laugh until Evgeni leveled a glare at the kid. Niklas dropped the sack and ran to the back of the formation.
Fedor Tyutin pushed a bound and gagged Nicklas Backstrom towards the ground. Then he spit at the blonde, “Svinya.”
Evgeni pushed Fedor back towards the other Russians, “No name calling here, unless it’s for you know what.” Then he grabbed Fedor’s ass before the kid could get away.
The bag wiggled and the blonde squirmed. Lidstrom nodded his head, “Okay, we are trading these players, now.”
“No you are not!” A voice protested from the clouds. And a caped Ryan Whitney jumped from the top of a tree landing on top of Johan Franzen, rendering him unconscious. “I am here to stop your nefarious plans.”
Evgeni rolled his eyes, “Please, you can’t even play left wing.”
The Hairdresser’s eyes narrowed and he pulled out his clam chowder-shaped comb. “When we - “
“Oh I’m so frightened of your homo comb.” Lidstrom giggled in Swedish, “Who and what army will stop us?
Pointing the comb at Evgeni again, The Hairdresser hollered, “Come on out boys! Oh, and Jordan Staal, since he is the second in command.”
And the Rookie Army marched from behind the White House. They cheered and yelled and laughed, making a terrifying noise that sounded something like Bryan Murray trying to say ‘pussy’.
A few of the less brave members of the Swedish and Russian armies fled at the mere sound of the Rookie Army. Like Mikael Samuelsson (who was pregnant) and Alex Frolov (because there were already too many Alex’s in the army). Oh, and Daniel Alfredsson because he pooped his pants.
“Now, hand over the Swede and nobody gets hurt.” The Hairdresser leveled the comb at Evgeni’s head.
“Never, and I should have known you were The Hairdresser. You always were extremely gay.”
Kris Letang whispered to Torrey Mitchell, “Oh no he din’t.”
The Hairdresser could stand many things except people making fun of his skills as a hairdresser or mentioning his time as a left winger. And Evgeni had violated both of those.
He turned his gaze towards Evgeni, using the glare that Gary Roberts taught him before they deployed on this mission. “We owe Philly some payback.”
And Evgeni shrieked as his hair started to fall out from the roots. A giant bald spot formed on the top of his head in seconds. He went running into the trees.
Alex Ovechkin gasped and then went running after him, “Wait, I need you Barb!” The Russian Red Army was useless without both Alex and Evgeni so they eventually broke up after much bumbling around and giving the puck up at the blue line.
Finally, The Hairdresser turned his comb to Lidstrom, “Now that you have seen my power will you give up the Swede without a fight?”
Lifting his chin in the air defiantly, Lidstrom shook his head no. “I have my own secret weapon.” And he started smacking his forehead with the side of his hand.
Suddenly, the trees parted and Marian Hossa stepped out wearing only an octopus (you figure it out). He saw The Hairdresser and then grinned widely, “Hey, remember me? The Tea-Bagger? We used to hang out in Babylon.”
“Haha, what is up my man?” The Hairdresser stepped closer to The Tea-Bagger and they bro-hugged. “We should hang out there later, eh?”
Lidstrom scoffed spectacularly, “Are you freaking kidding me? You two are supposed to hate each other.”
“Um excuse me…”
Looking over at the voice, Lidstrom barked, “WHAT?”
Jordan Staal nodded at the two who were now conversing happily, “They were created to hate each other but Ryan is such a woman that Marian can’t help but like him.”
“Oh, fudge that.” And Lidstrom grabbed the poor non-Swedish blonde off the ground by his handcuffs, “Darn kinky Russians” and started to drag him away.
But his progress was stopped when Nicklas was lifted from his clutches. “Not so fast, Mr. Perfect.” The Hairdresser unbound and ungagged Nicklas then placed him in front of him.
Lidstrom stomped his foot, “Give me back my rookie. I need to destroy that abomination. He gives Swedes a bad name.”
The Hairdresser laughed and brought out his comb again. “I will make him a real Swede so that you can’t destroy him.” Then he tapped Nicklas on the head, “Sippin’ on gin and juice.”
There was a poof and beautiful yellow locks streamed from Nicklas’s head. He gasped with wonderment as his fingers danced in the curls. “I’m a real Swede. I’M A REAL SWEDE! It’s a miracle!” Swedish meatballs popped out of his ears and a giant plug formed in his back.
“Oh come on. Now I can’t destroy him.” Lidstrom sighed, “Where’s the fun in that?” Then he turned around, “If I can’t have that abomination, then the Russians don’t get Pavel. Henrik-1, Henrik-2, get Pavel. And don’t molest him through the bag this time, perverts.”
The Hairdresser just let him go, knowing that without the missing piece the Swedes were harmless. Unless, they figured out The Hairdresser’s only weakness and/or found another non-Swedish Swede.
Which could happen. Maybe.
-
underneath Whole Foods in Pittsburgh, PA…….the next morning
Gary Roberts sat in the board room, “The threat has passed, The Hairdresser was victorious and the Rookies have been returned to their usual duties.” Then he laughed, “We can’t ask for much more than that, eh Darryl-pickle?”
“That’s right. Another tofu teriyaki bite, Garykins?” Darryl held out a fork and dangled it deliciously in front of Gary’s face making him lick his lips in anticipation.
-
a brothel somewhere in Amsterdam
Evgeni Malkin entered a pink and purple boudoir, a porkpie hat sitting on his head. Alex Ovechkin followed closely behind him.
“One day, I will have my revenge on that American.” Evgeni shook his fist at the ceiling then looked over at Alex. “Hey, want to role play today?”
Alex smirked, “Of course. I get to be The Hairdresser and you’re The Tea-Bagger.”
“Woo, let’s get it on!” And Evgeni ripped off the hat, revealing a nice spray job.
-
somewhere in Pittsburgh
Brooks sighed and leaned against the bathroom door. “Ryan, are you ever going to come out?” He knew he shouldn’t have let Ryan watch the end of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Sirius was always his favorite character.
The crying just continued and got louder. “Never. It’s just all too much.” He was back to his old self, the confident and sexy Hairdresser gone.
Walking towards the kitchen, Brooks called back to the door. “That’s too bad because I bought birthday cake-flavored massage oil today.”
Suddenly, the door swung open and Ryan ran into the kitchen. He jumped onto Brooks’s back, “What are we waiting for? Let’s go to bed! Woo!”
Brooks grinned to himself. Gary Roberts was right about that being the magic stuff.
-
Henrik Zetterberg’s backyard somewhere in Sweden
Henrik-1 and Henrik-2 and Pavel were all sprawled out on the grass under the glass table. Nick Lidstrom sighed as he stepped over their passed-out bodies. “I guess it’s just you and me.” All the other Swedes were gone, off doing their Swedish things in their very Swedish lives.
Marian Hossa cackled, “I guess it is.”
“We’ve got a lot of work to do my friend. And one day, one day Swedes will be on a Wheaties box for reals.” Lidstrom shook his fist at the cruel, cruel world. “That is my new mission.”
Behind him, Marian grinned like a Cheshire cat until his cell phone began to ring. He groaned before he opened it. As he walked away, Lidstrom could hear Marian sighing, “Sidney, no, I will not go to a Leafs game with you…..Because you’re too young for that.”
THE END!
Summary: Uh, the Swedes want to destroy a non-Swedish Swede and the Russians want to take over the NHL
Rating: R, not suitable for children under the age of 17 unless accompanied by a parent or guardian
Disclaimer: Wow, if this shite was real then I would be a great reporter. Fizake.
A/N: There is a lot of inside jokes in here....if you need or want any clarifications then please just ask. I don't mind explaining or reminding.
The Rookie Army is being summoned and assembled unerneath Whole Foods
somewhere in Chicago
Patrick Kane was dancing the Cupid Shuffle in his bright green boxers when his cell phone started buzzing. Reading the message, he ran towards Jonny’s study, “Jooooooooonny!”
Jonathan Toews looked up from Fahrenheit 451, annoyed with his life partner. “What is it now, Patrick Kane?”
Jumping up excitedly, Patrick landed in Jonny’s lap. “We got a text from Gary Roberts.”
-
somewhere in Montreal
Carey Price sat in front of his white vanity, eyes trained on the beautiful creature reflected back at him. He was dragging a comb through his pompadour when the cell phone vibrated.
Looking at the message, he rolled his eyes in a most spectacular manner. “But I had a manicure appointment today. Damn.”
-
somewhere in St. Louis
Erik Johnson swung the paintbrush in his hand across the canvas, brown strokes streaking the painting. He smiled to himself and stepped backwards to look at his art fully when his cell phone suddenly beeped.
Looking at the message, he grinned. “Maybe Jonny will be there.” And he looked back at the painting of a dark-haired boy with wide eyes and a serious mouth.
-
somewhere in San Jose
Torrey Mitchell heard the cell phone ring but didn’t care to get it. He was too busy joy-riding his Toyota Corolla through the streets in the California sun.
When he finally looked at the message, he sighed. “Guess I gotta put Tanya in the garage for a while.”
-
somewhere in Boston
Milan Lucic landed a final punch in the inflated red bag and then looked down at his cell phone. He had heard it ring and looked at the message.
Smiling, he punched the bag one last time for good measure. “Looks like I’m done with you today, Mr. Beach.”
-
somewhere in Edmonton
Andrew Cogliano threw the PS3 remote at an escaping Sam Gagner, “You know that I have to win.” Then his cell phone vibrated suddenly.
Looking at the message, Andrew chased Sam into his basement bedroom, “It’s time.”
-
somewhere in Pittsburgh
Brooks Orpik was at the end of his rope. “Ryan, if you don’t stop crying I will come in there and give you something to cry about.”
The threat didn’t work and Ryan Whitney kept the bathroom door locked. It was unfortunately his time of the month and nothing could get him to come out, even chocolate.
Sighing to himself, Brooks pushed all of Ryan’s hair products off of the kitchen table with a sweep of his arm and sat down. He never understood why Ryan always had hairdressing products but never used them.
Suddenly, there was a crash at the front door. And Gary Roberts stomped into the kitchen, “Brooks, where is Ryan?”
Unable to get over the fear of Gary Roberts speaking directly to him, Brooks’s eyes remained wide open. (And still do to this day.) Then he pointed to the bathroom door, unable to say a word.
Turning his eyes towards the door, Gary Roberts glared spectacularly and the entire wall crumbled before them.
Ryan was sitting on the toilet seat, head in his hands. He had on a shower cap, a timer sitting on the sink. An opened box of hair dye sat on the tiled floor.
Stepping forward, Gary Roberts addressed Ryan directly. “It is time.”
“What the monkey’s balls are you talking about?” Ryan stood up and sniffled. “What do you mean it’s time? Time for what you crazy old man?”
Gary Roberts sighed, “I should have known.” He would only let one person talk to him like that, and that was The Hairdresser. Looking at Ryan, Gary Roberts grabbed his head. “This is gonna hurt.”
“Seriously, what the ass are you doing?” Ryan tried to rip Gary Roberts’s hands off his ears but it was no use.
Closing his eyes, Gary Roberts began to chant. “Oh Waaade Red-den, our home and na-tive land.”
“You old crazy fucking - “ but then Ryan began to convulse and foam at the mouth and only Gary Roberts knows what Ryan was about to call him.
Brooks stood up and backed up against the oven, “Oh my Mark Eaton, he’s got the rabies.”
“He doesn’t have rabies. That’s an STD.” Then continuing the chant, Gary Roberts held fast to Ryan’s ears. “True Waaaade love in all thy Sens com-mand.”
And Ryan fell to the ground as Gary Roberts completed the chant.
Suddenly, there was a poof followed by red and blue smoke. Wade Redden appeared in the midst of all the smoke and looked extremely concerned about something. He had on only tightie-whities and was holding a purple Hilary Duff piñata in his hand.
Gary Roberts took one look at Wade and said, “You could have at least put some pants on.”
Wade laughed, “Please, pants are for women.” Then he looked down at a squirming, babbling Ryan. “The transformation is almost complete.” Leaning down, Wade tapped Ryan on his chin and whispered the magic words, “Keeping it real in Ottawa.”
Brooks coughed through the smoke and ran out of the house, “He ain’t worth all that weird shit. I’m going to Halbert’s condo.”
-
underneath Whole Foods in Pittsburgh, PA…….the next day
Gary Roberts again paced in front of his giant Post-It. “This is the day we have all feared. The Red Army has risen and with them the Robotic IKEAn Swedes. But we are prepared.” A knock on the door interrupted his speech. He turned angrily towards the interruption, “WHAT?!”
“It’s Darryl-pickle, my Garykins.”
Blushing, Gary Roberts ran towards the door. He whispered loudly, “Not now Darryl-pickle. Garykins is in the middle of business.”
“Oh, okay. I’ll be in your chambers. Don’t forget the soy butter.”
Turning back towards the assembled rookies, Gary Roberts barked. “Any questions?”
“Yeah, uh, who is going to lead us into battle?” Erik Johnson was a very brave soul to ask Gary Roberts a question.
And with that question, Gary Roberts grinned. “The Hairdresser.”
The boys all gasped in unison. Sam Gagner shook his head, “I thought he was a myth. Kind of like Sasquatch or girls.”
Andrew Cogliano elbowed his life partner, “Girls are real. I saw one once.”
Gary Roberts ignored the ignorant teenagers before him and walked towards the other stone door. Opening it, he said, “Hairdresser, you may come in now.”
White smoke billowed in from the outer room along with a tall caped shadow. He stepped into the light and the rookies gasped in unison again. Gary Roberts groaned, “You gay-bos better stop that shit right now.”
Ryan Whitney stood in his true regalia before the boys. He had on green basketball shorts, a Red Sox baseball hat, Bruins jersey that was two sizes too tight and a Patriots towel tied around his neck. The cape blew in the wind…
Gary Roberts waved a hand at Jordan Staal in the corner, “Shut off the fan.” And Jordan smacked Max who hit the off button quickly.
Carey Price’s mouth dropped, “He’s The Hairdresser? Are you fucking kidding me? He’s a sissy.”
“He doesn’t even know how to hit,” Milan Lucic joined in with his two-cents.
Everyone was laughing until Patrick Kane went too far. “His own coach made him play left wing.” And the laughter stopped abruptly, no one brought that incident up. Wade Redden was a reminder of that, and he was in another world now.
Turning his head towards the voice, The Hairdresser shook his head. “I wouldn’t have said that if I were you.” Then he pointed a clam chowder-shaped comb at Patrick, “When we won in Buffalo.”
And Patrick squealed as his hair started to perm quickly, leaving tight ringlet curls in its wake. Jonny just rolled his eyes at the childishness of it all, “Is that all you can do?”
Finally, Gary Roberts stepped between The Hairdresser’s quivering comb and Jonny’s judgmental eyebrows. “We have work to do. You can settle differences later.”
-
Henrik Zetterberg’s backyard somewhere in Sweden……..the next day
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY FOUND THE HAIRDRESSER?!” Nick Lidstrom paced angrily in front of his Post-It. He brandished his hockey stick like a sickle, swinging at everyone seated in the first row as they jumped backwards in fear. With a deep breath, he calmed down considerably and looked at the visitor.
Marian Hossa was leaning against a stone birdbath held up by a tiny gnome. He was wearing a red t-shirt, too-tight jeans and brown suede loafers. The typical outfit of a traitor who dresses for less. He took the toothpick out of his mouth, “That’s what I heard from Jordan Staal while getting a few things I forgot at Recchi’s. He doesn’t have an inside voice.”
Lidstrom nodded his head in understanding, “I see, poor kid.” Then he started his angry pacing again, “This changes everything. The Hairdresser is the only…thing that can foil our plans of destroying the ImitationSwede.”
Marian pointed his toothpick at a burlap sack near the sliding glass doors. It was oddly pear-shaped and making a lot of grunting noises. “What’s that?”
Lidstrom eyed Marian angrily and pointed to his forehead which had a red mark across it. “What’s that?” The mark resembled a tea-bag and it intrigued Lidstrom from the moment he first saw him.
Touching his forehead lightly, Marian growled at Lidstrom. “Nothing.”
Lidstrom shrugged, “That’s just a sack of pears, then.”
Suddenly, the sack began to sing. WHOOOOOA!!! I FEEL GOOD!!! And it started to dance, jigging all over the patio. Marian just shrugged, “Whatever you say boss.”
Sighing, Lidstrom pointed at Michel Therrien who was bound to a chair. “I thought that we paid you to demoralize Ryan Whitney so bad that he wouldn’t remember his alter-ego.”
Therrien just shrugged, “I did ze best I could. I even made him play leff wing.”
“AHH! Fudge, fudge, fudge.” Lidstrom then cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “I have to call the Russians and tell them that we go to Washington D.C. tonight.”
-
outside the White House…..somewhere in Washington D.C. in the middle of the night
Evgeni Malkin paced in front of his assembled troops, all dressed in red spandex bodysuits with the Russian coat of arms stenciled on them. “Tonight, we get the missing piece to the puzzle. Tonight is where we fight. Tonight is when we become men.”
Ilya Kovalchuk yawned, “When do I get to point at someone and then turtle? This is boring me to tears.”
Evgeni Nabokov giggled at Ilya. “I just wanna get this over with so that we can take over the world. That’s gonna be hella fun.”
Suddenly, there was a whooshing sound and yellow parachutes with blue pod chairs attached to them began to fall from to the ground. The Russians knew that the Swedes were arriving.
Nick Lidstrom was the first to land, of course because he did nothing wrong, and he rolled up to Evgeni. Flipping his helmet off, Lidstrom’s hair bounced back to shape. “We are here. I hope that the Swede is alright.”
Evgeni laughed as the other pod chairs landed, “I hope that Datsyuk is alright.” And both leaders threw back their heads and laughed.
Niklas Kronwall dragged a heavy burlap sack towards the two men, joining in on the laugh until Evgeni leveled a glare at the kid. Niklas dropped the sack and ran to the back of the formation.
Fedor Tyutin pushed a bound and gagged Nicklas Backstrom towards the ground. Then he spit at the blonde, “Svinya.”
Evgeni pushed Fedor back towards the other Russians, “No name calling here, unless it’s for you know what.” Then he grabbed Fedor’s ass before the kid could get away.
The bag wiggled and the blonde squirmed. Lidstrom nodded his head, “Okay, we are trading these players, now.”
“No you are not!” A voice protested from the clouds. And a caped Ryan Whitney jumped from the top of a tree landing on top of Johan Franzen, rendering him unconscious. “I am here to stop your nefarious plans.”
Evgeni rolled his eyes, “Please, you can’t even play left wing.”
The Hairdresser’s eyes narrowed and he pulled out his clam chowder-shaped comb. “When we - “
“Oh I’m so frightened of your homo comb.” Lidstrom giggled in Swedish, “Who and what army will stop us?
Pointing the comb at Evgeni again, The Hairdresser hollered, “Come on out boys! Oh, and Jordan Staal, since he is the second in command.”
And the Rookie Army marched from behind the White House. They cheered and yelled and laughed, making a terrifying noise that sounded something like Bryan Murray trying to say ‘pussy’.
A few of the less brave members of the Swedish and Russian armies fled at the mere sound of the Rookie Army. Like Mikael Samuelsson (who was pregnant) and Alex Frolov (because there were already too many Alex’s in the army). Oh, and Daniel Alfredsson because he pooped his pants.
“Now, hand over the Swede and nobody gets hurt.” The Hairdresser leveled the comb at Evgeni’s head.
“Never, and I should have known you were The Hairdresser. You always were extremely gay.”
Kris Letang whispered to Torrey Mitchell, “Oh no he din’t.”
The Hairdresser could stand many things except people making fun of his skills as a hairdresser or mentioning his time as a left winger. And Evgeni had violated both of those.
He turned his gaze towards Evgeni, using the glare that Gary Roberts taught him before they deployed on this mission. “We owe Philly some payback.”
And Evgeni shrieked as his hair started to fall out from the roots. A giant bald spot formed on the top of his head in seconds. He went running into the trees.
Alex Ovechkin gasped and then went running after him, “Wait, I need you Barb!” The Russian Red Army was useless without both Alex and Evgeni so they eventually broke up after much bumbling around and giving the puck up at the blue line.
Finally, The Hairdresser turned his comb to Lidstrom, “Now that you have seen my power will you give up the Swede without a fight?”
Lifting his chin in the air defiantly, Lidstrom shook his head no. “I have my own secret weapon.” And he started smacking his forehead with the side of his hand.
Suddenly, the trees parted and Marian Hossa stepped out wearing only an octopus (you figure it out). He saw The Hairdresser and then grinned widely, “Hey, remember me? The Tea-Bagger? We used to hang out in Babylon.”
“Haha, what is up my man?” The Hairdresser stepped closer to The Tea-Bagger and they bro-hugged. “We should hang out there later, eh?”
Lidstrom scoffed spectacularly, “Are you freaking kidding me? You two are supposed to hate each other.”
“Um excuse me…”
Looking over at the voice, Lidstrom barked, “WHAT?”
Jordan Staal nodded at the two who were now conversing happily, “They were created to hate each other but Ryan is such a woman that Marian can’t help but like him.”
“Oh, fudge that.” And Lidstrom grabbed the poor non-Swedish blonde off the ground by his handcuffs, “Darn kinky Russians” and started to drag him away.
But his progress was stopped when Nicklas was lifted from his clutches. “Not so fast, Mr. Perfect.” The Hairdresser unbound and ungagged Nicklas then placed him in front of him.
Lidstrom stomped his foot, “Give me back my rookie. I need to destroy that abomination. He gives Swedes a bad name.”
The Hairdresser laughed and brought out his comb again. “I will make him a real Swede so that you can’t destroy him.” Then he tapped Nicklas on the head, “Sippin’ on gin and juice.”
There was a poof and beautiful yellow locks streamed from Nicklas’s head. He gasped with wonderment as his fingers danced in the curls. “I’m a real Swede. I’M A REAL SWEDE! It’s a miracle!” Swedish meatballs popped out of his ears and a giant plug formed in his back.
“Oh come on. Now I can’t destroy him.” Lidstrom sighed, “Where’s the fun in that?” Then he turned around, “If I can’t have that abomination, then the Russians don’t get Pavel. Henrik-1, Henrik-2, get Pavel. And don’t molest him through the bag this time, perverts.”
The Hairdresser just let him go, knowing that without the missing piece the Swedes were harmless. Unless, they figured out The Hairdresser’s only weakness and/or found another non-Swedish Swede.
Which could happen. Maybe.
-
underneath Whole Foods in Pittsburgh, PA…….the next morning
Gary Roberts sat in the board room, “The threat has passed, The Hairdresser was victorious and the Rookies have been returned to their usual duties.” Then he laughed, “We can’t ask for much more than that, eh Darryl-pickle?”
“That’s right. Another tofu teriyaki bite, Garykins?” Darryl held out a fork and dangled it deliciously in front of Gary’s face making him lick his lips in anticipation.
-
a brothel somewhere in Amsterdam
Evgeni Malkin entered a pink and purple boudoir, a porkpie hat sitting on his head. Alex Ovechkin followed closely behind him.
“One day, I will have my revenge on that American.” Evgeni shook his fist at the ceiling then looked over at Alex. “Hey, want to role play today?”
Alex smirked, “Of course. I get to be The Hairdresser and you’re The Tea-Bagger.”
“Woo, let’s get it on!” And Evgeni ripped off the hat, revealing a nice spray job.
-
somewhere in Pittsburgh
Brooks sighed and leaned against the bathroom door. “Ryan, are you ever going to come out?” He knew he shouldn’t have let Ryan watch the end of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Sirius was always his favorite character.
The crying just continued and got louder. “Never. It’s just all too much.” He was back to his old self, the confident and sexy Hairdresser gone.
Walking towards the kitchen, Brooks called back to the door. “That’s too bad because I bought birthday cake-flavored massage oil today.”
Suddenly, the door swung open and Ryan ran into the kitchen. He jumped onto Brooks’s back, “What are we waiting for? Let’s go to bed! Woo!”
Brooks grinned to himself. Gary Roberts was right about that being the magic stuff.
-
Henrik Zetterberg’s backyard somewhere in Sweden
Henrik-1 and Henrik-2 and Pavel were all sprawled out on the grass under the glass table. Nick Lidstrom sighed as he stepped over their passed-out bodies. “I guess it’s just you and me.” All the other Swedes were gone, off doing their Swedish things in their very Swedish lives.
Marian Hossa cackled, “I guess it is.”
“We’ve got a lot of work to do my friend. And one day, one day Swedes will be on a Wheaties box for reals.” Lidstrom shook his fist at the cruel, cruel world. “That is my new mission.”
Behind him, Marian grinned like a Cheshire cat until his cell phone began to ring. He groaned before he opened it. As he walked away, Lidstrom could hear Marian sighing, “Sidney, no, I will not go to a Leafs game with you…..Because you’re too young for that.”
THE END!