Page 83 of Grumpy Pucking Orc
We talked every morning, just before my office opened for the day and after he and his team had finished their grueling run-and-lift routine. We talked every night after he’d returned to the hotel room from the game. There had been no more lucky scores for the Tusks, but they were at least narrowing the gap between their zero and the winning score. And the fights! No matter how the other team tried, eventually the orcs would needle them into action. As the team’s skating improved, so did their ability to slam the opposing team against the glass or cut them off at the goal.
Ozar and I celebrated the improvements, mourned thelosses, then went on to have epic phone sex. It was our nightly routine, and I looked forward to it.
Each morning, I started the day on a high after our call. Even the most difficult procedure seemed easy. I was more focused, cheerful, happy. Ozar made me a better me. Just hearing his voice energized me and inspired me to work even harder for my patients.
But the games… Ozar seemed more optimistic than he’d been during that first call from Ohio, but I knew these losses and shut outs were taking a toll on him. The Tusks needed a coach, a trainer, marketing campaigns, and hype. They needed an owner who truly gave a shit about the team improving and winning instead of treating them like a circus sideshow.
And Ozar needed some sort of recognition for the work he was putting in trying to pull this team together.
I’d been keeping an eye on the animal shelter site, and by Tuesday I couldn’t wait any longer. I went in and adopted Coal after setting up a spot for him in my master bathroom.
As expected, Judy had a shitfit. The moment I walked in with the little cardboard box holding the small black cat, Judy’s eyes bugged out, her back arched, and the deepest yowly-growl I’d ever heard emanated from her chest.
Coal meowed plaintively from inside the box, but Judy was not about to be won over, so I took Ozar’s cat up to my bathroom and introduced him to his temporary space. He explored the area with curiosity, taking immediate advantage of the litter box. After watching him play in the fountain water bowl, I gave him some kibble and left him to enjoy the space. It wasn’t ideal, but it was a whole lot bigger and had more amenities than his cage at the shelter. Plus, I needed to give Judy time to get used to our new friend.
Judy was pacing outside the master bathroom door when I emerged. She’d already pooped in the middle of my bedroom floor.
“I know, I know.” I picked her up and carried her downstairs. “Change is hard, but Ozar wants a cat of his own. I want to marry him, so you’re going to need to get used to Coal living with us. He’s a sweet cat. You don’t have to love him, but you will have to tolerate him.”
Judy made what I can only describe as a grumpy harrumph. Trying to make amends, I let her have some grilled chicken from the fridge while I cleaned up her mess. Then I sat down to watch the Tusks play against Pittsburgh.
Knowing it would be a few hours before Ozar finished up and made it back to the hotel for our nightly call, I went upstairs after the game to check on Coal. The cat had managed to pull down my towels and scatter them across the room. I found him curled up in one of the sinks instead of the comfy bed I’d bought for him. Blinking his bright eyes up at me, he stretched and yawned, then strolled across the counter with a confident meow.
I liked this cat. It would have been normal for Coal to be anxious his first night in a strange home, especially with a hostile feline roommate, but the little black cat had been nonplused by the whole situation. He bumped his head against my hand and purred as I scratched him behind the ears.
“It won’t be long before you have the run of the house,” I told him. “I’m pretty sure you’ll be able to stay out of Judy’s way and calmly ride out her tantrums. And when Ozar comes back, you’ll be at his house most of the time. Until you both move in, that is. It’ll give Judy some time to get used to you before you’re here for good.”
The cat kept purring. I loved on him as long as I could, then filled his food bowl and left, ready for Ozar to call.
On the way downstairs, I encountered another turd. And on the bottom step, a coughed-up hair ball. It was going to be a long transition, but Coal was worth it.
Ozar was worth it.
Chapter 37
Ozar
Our team’s progress was incremental, but it was still progress.
The orcs had struggled during our morning workout along Pittsburgh’s hilly streets, but no one grumbled, and everyone managed to keep their breakfasts inside their stomachs. Practice that afternoon had gone about the same. We worked on speed, turns, skating backward, then practiced with the puck. That was about all I knew. If we improved past those things, I would be at a loss. We needed a coach. We needed a trainer who could tailor our workouts. Without those things, I was pretty sure we’d soon hit our ceiling in terms of skill and ability. We also needed someone who actually knew the rules of the game, although Bwat was reading a book calledHockey for Fools. It was a surprisingly appropriate title for us.
We lost at Pittsburgh. We lost at Philadelphia. We lost at New Jersey. And we didn’t score a goal since that accidental one in Ohio. But the sharp bite of humiliation had diminished each game. We were skating better. And the teams we faced often lost the puck when they saw usbarreling down on them. They’d quickly regain it, but I liked knowing they were afraid of us and the hurt we could deliver if we slammed them up against the glass.
Tuesday, we arrived at Buffalo, where we had a day to rest and recover before our game against their team. I was both anxious and excited for our final game before we returned to Baltimore. Only a few more days until I saw Jordan again, but only a few more days before we had to discuss the looming obstacle that blocked the path to our happiness. And this game…. Buffalo was Jordan’s hometown, and I was nervous to be playing here—especially with her family watching.
There were VIP tickets waiting for her parents, her brother and sister-in-law, two sets of aunts and uncles, and three cousins. Jordan’s relatives would be occupying most of the seats behind our bench, and it made me sweat to think of how they might judge our team, and judgeme.
Orcs made their own decisions about marriage, but everyone valued their parents’ input. Parents knew us best, and these humans who would be watching tonight knew Jordan far more than I did. They loved her. And if they thought I might not be able to provide her the love and support she needed as my wife, their opinion would carry weight.
Summoning every bit of courage, I left a note with their tickets, asking them to meet the team after the game and giving them passes to the area outside the locker room, inside where even the press was allowed.
While we were supposed to rest Tuesday, my nervous energy wouldn’t allow for that. Which meant that I didn’t let the team rest, either. Getting off the bus, I barked at the orcs to meet me in the lobby of the hotel in an hour, dressed and ready for a workout. Hearing the chorus of groans, Ithreatened anyone who was late with an extra mile run. Yes, it wasn’t all that easy sleeping on the transportation beast, and the team could use some extra shuteye, but the hours of sitting as we rode from New Jersey wouldn’t be helped by falling onto the hotel’s furless beds and lying there until tomorrow morning either. We’d complete the workout I’d put together. The guys could shower and sleep for a few hours, then I’d make them get up again to practice on the ice until dinner time.
For the first time, I didn’t need to harass anyone or personally bang on their doors when it came time to meet for our workout. The humans followed us or cheered along our running route, as they had since Ohio. Their numbers had been steadily increasing, too. I’d attributed it to the larger population in certain cities, but today I realized that our routine had attracted an unexpected fan following. I overheard humans on their phones, telling others of our route. Humans took pictures, shouted our names, even turned around to do something that Bwat called “a selfie” with us in the background.
It was cold enough in Buffalo for us to be wearing shirts, but the humans in the city entreated us to undress, even though they were bundled up as if they were summiting Gronalek Mountain. I ignored them, but a few of the younger orcs obliged, tossing their shirts into the crowd and flexing for pictures.
I rolled my eyes, but knew I’d do the same if Jordan had asked with that appreciative glint in her eyes. We were all here to find brides to take home. Who was I to fault these orcs in their efforts to attract suitable marriage partners?
