Page 3 of Grumpy Pucking Orc
We settled in with our beers, commenting on the hotness level of the visiting team as they warmed up on the ice. No matter how the game turned out, it was good to get together with Abby and Willa. The past few weeks we’d all been swamped at work, and our schedules hadn’t seemed to align. Sitting here drinking cheap draft beer and ogling guys made me feel like I was back in college and not an overworked professional trying to grow my practice in a competitive market.
“Here come the orcs,” Willa announced.
I turned my attention to the huge green dude skating out of the tunnel. He didn’t seem to be very steady on his skates, but he remained upright. The ones who followed him were worse. Within seconds, there was a pile of green bodies at the edge of the ice.
“Why are they shirtless? Not that I’m complaining or anything,” Abby said.
“I wonder if their dicks are proportionate to the rest of their bodies,” Willa said. “If so, they’re gonna have a hard time getting laid. I mean, I like to think there’s a hole for every rod, but anatomy has its limits, and nobody wants to explain that kind of injury to an ER doc.”
“None of them can skate,” I said, because although the naked chests and questions about penis-proportion were important, the orcs’ lack of basic skills on the ice took priority in my weird mind.
Yes, I was more fixated on the orcs slipping and sliding than their sculpted chests or their potentially painful cock size.
Although now that I thought about it, the one guy whohad remained standing and wasn’t hugging the walldidhave an amazing set of pecs. And arms. And abs. And the thighs filling out those tight pants weren’t exactly shabby, either.
“That first dude has to be nearly seven feet tall,” Willa commented. “I’m not a particularly short woman, but I wouldn’t even come to his shoulder. He’d need to pick me up to kiss me. I could give him a blow job from a squat.”
Abby sighed. “It would need to be a fast blow job because I just can’t hold a squat for long.”
“We can work on that,” Willa told her. “Give me six months and you’ll be able to crack walnuts with your ass cheeks.”
She wasn’t kidding. Willa was a personal trainer at our gym and had a dedicated group of clients on the side for private sessions. I was pretty sure army sergeants could learn a thing or two from her. And I’d bet good money she actuallycouldcrack walnuts with her ass.
“Oh, jeez, this is gonna be a shit show,” Abby said as others skated onto the field to help the orcs stand and make their way to the bench. “They reallycan’tskate. How the heck does Baltimore have a hockey team that can’t even skate?”
I had no idea. It wasn’t cheap to buy an NHL franchise, and I knew there were a lot of hoops to jump through. Why the owner had gone to all that trouble only to populate his team with a bunch of supernaturals that couldn’t skate was beyond me.
Although the ownerwasa demon, which might explain everything.
At least this wasn’t going to be the human bloodbath I’d feared. The orcs would likely spend most of the gamesprawled out on the ice while the Red Wings evaded the bodies and scored goals left and right.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Initially, I’d been worried about the human team and the unbalanced matchup. Now, I was worried about an opposite unbalanced matchup.
Orcs. I was worried about a bunch of seven-foot-tall, muscle-bound, green-skinned, fierce dudes who looked like they could take on a team of dragons and come out on top. I know it was weird, but I felt sorry for these guys.
“Maybe we should drink every time an orc falls down?” Abby suggested, interrupting my angsty thoughts.
“I don’t know about you two, butIdon’t want to spend tomorrow puking from a massive hangover,” I said.
“From the way those guys skate, we’ll all end up dead of alcohol poisoning before the first intermission,” Willa added.
I sighed, looking as the orc who’d been first out of the tunnel returned to the ice, skidding his way to the center of the rink. “I guess this means we won’t be taking bets on the winner or the score.”
Abby laughed. “Score? I’ll wager twenty bucks that the Red Wings win by more than ten goals.”
“More like twenty goals,” Willa scoffed.
It felt kind of wrong to be making fun of the orc team like this. Itwasfunny, but I got the impression that the orcs weren’t in on the joke. I wondered if they’d been shoved into this with no training, no preparation, and no knowledge at all of the game. It was one thing to be a clown or a stand-up comic by choice, another to be laughed at when you had no idea you were there to play the fool.
As the game began, I felt less and less like laughing. The Red Wings were racking up goals at a speed that made itlikely Willa’s prediction would come true. The orcs truly did not know how to skate and had taken to stomping around the ice instead, hacking at the puck as though they were trying to split firewood. Their sticks were breaking at an alarming rate, and the one time they got the puck, they sent it flying toward the ceiling, where it took out one of the lights. One orc did nothing but lean against the wall and scowl at everyone, while the forward seemed to think his main goal was to tackle members of the opposing team. That could have resulted in serious injury had the guy ever been able to get within a foot of any of the humans.
At the first intermission, our cups of beer were empty, and the Tusks had scored no goals.
The Red Wings had scored five.
I felt strangely heartsick as I went out into the concession area to get more beers. Then I overheard the commentary while in line. Hockey fans were leaving, disappointed that the game was so one-sided. The people that were remaining seemed to view the whole thing as if it were a circus event.
I got three beers and returned just as the players were taking to the ice again. The Tusks didn’t seem to have improved their skating skills during intermission, but I could instantly see a difference in the orcs’ attitudes. They were pissed—a leastsomeof them were pissed. The one guy continued to lean against the wall, sneering at the whole thing.
