Page 66 of Grumpy Pucking Orc
It was a mistake. I had seventy pounds of muscle on this human. I tossed my own gloves aside and pounded my fist into his shoulder, sending him flying backward across the ice. The arena erupted with shouts of approval and chants of “fight, fight.” Other human players engaged the orc nearest to them and soon realized that we might not havepadding or even shirts, but we were stronger than any hockey player they’d ever engaged in the past. By the time the demons in uniforms disengaged us, the ice was striped with red and green blood—mostly red—and several human males, including the one who had faced off against me, left the ice with a weaving, unsteady gait.
Since we’d yet to begin our first match, I found myself again facing off across from a different human male. This time, I took the initiative as far as insults went.
“You’re so weak, a gentle spring breeze could blow you over.” My taunt didn’t seem to offend the human. In fact, he looked like he was amused.
“That’s not what your mother said when I was balls-deep in her last night,” he shot back.
Again with my mother. What was with these idiotic humans?
“My mother is dead. If you had sex with her last night, that makes you a neophiliac.”
The human looked confused. “You meannecrophiliac?”
Yeah. That.
“You like to fuck corpses because they can’t make fun of the tiny twig you’ve got between your legs,” I continued.
The human dove at me, tossing off his gloves and flinging his stick across the ice before swinging a fist at my face. Gloves flew and again we pummeled the humans.
Clearly, someone with a more level mind had spoken to the human team, because the third time I was unable to taunt my enemy into a reaction beyond shooting the puck past me and to the expert stick of his teammate.
We scrambled after them, but even with practice, the humans could skate at double our speed. Immediately, I saw our error in having only Bwat and Eng positioned and ready near our goal. The humans reached our end of the icewithout an orc in sight beside our goalie, who waved his arms ineffectually as our enemy shot the puck between his legs and into the net.
By the time we left the ice for our break, the enemy had scored four points to our zero. Back in the locker room, we collapsed on the benches and the floor.
“See? There’s no sense in all that practice you’re forcing us to do, Ozar,” Eng growled. “These fucks were born with knife-blades on their feet. We can practice every day this year, and it won’t make any difference.”
Ugwyll snorted. “As if you ever actually practice. Unless by ‘practice,’ you mean leaning against the wall.”
“They’re faster. They’re too good at evading us. We can’t hurt them if we can’t catch them, and there’s not a chance in our lifetime of us getting control of that puck-turd,” Bwat moaned.
“We need to spread out,” I said. “All of us shouldn’t go after the one with the puck. We should work on taking down the other humans by any means necessary where our best skater concentrates on trying to chase the puck-human.”
“If one of us tries to chase the puck-human, then the others can move themselves into positions where it would be difficult for the human to change direction and get away,” Ugwyll suggested.
I nodded. “It’s an excellent idea. Like when we are driving a herd ofvokelnathrough a canyon to better pasture. We will close in on this human, then steal the puck.”
That was our plan. Unfortunately, it didn’t work. The humans were smarter thanvokelna. They saw us moving close and were able to quickly maneuver around us. At the end of the second period, the human team had scoredanother four points. By the end of the game, they’d won with ten points to our zero.
I didn’t score a point in this game. No one had scored a point in this game. And for the first time ever, I didn’t want to see Jordan tonight. I just wanted to go back to my den, drink my cold milk, and suffer the bruises to my pride alone.
Chapter 28
Jordan
“We’ve got this whole section to ourselves,” I commented as Willa, Abby, and I scooted down the row to sit right behind the Tusks’ bench. We’d arrived early to make sure there was enough time to get our tickets from will-call, grab beers, and find our seats before the teams were announced.
“It’s for friends and family.” Abby frowned as she took in the empty seats. “I get it that the players wouldn’t have much in the way of family, but what about friends?”
“They’re still pretty new in town,” I told her. “It’s not like they’ve had time to make friends.”
Abby sniffed, clearly not believing that explanation. “Fine. But these unused seats should have been comped for PR. These should be filled with Make-A-Wish kids, or winners from a charity drive, or teachers, or first responders.”
“I’m going to guess they don’t have a public relations firm.” Willa picked a seat at random and sprawled into it, propping her feet up on the wall. “The owner isn’t evenspringing for shirts or pads, so he’s obviously running this whole thing on the cheap.”
“The shirt thing doesn’t make sense either,” Abby complained. “I love seeing a naked, muscled chest as much as the next girl, but if they don’t have jerseys, then that cuts out significant revenue from product sales.”
She wasn’t wrong. Baltimore residents loved their sports teams and gobbled up merchandise at an astonishing rate. Sports jerseys and team logo-covered clothing items were second only to stuff with the Maryland flag or pictures of blue crabs on them in terms of sales. Or Old Bay Seasoning. Heck, the locals even “O!” in the “Oh say can you see” portion of the National Anthem in an enthusiastic nod to the Orioles baseball team—or the “O’s,” as they were affectionately called. The Tusks were missing out on some serious money here.
