How’s it goin’, douchebags? Derek Boogaard here. Just wanted to drop you a note to let you know how much I am looking forward to the game tonight. Hey Mattias, last Friday night and what you did to my man Mikko? That shit ain’t right, man. A two-handed slash? That’s a fucking cunt move and you know it, you fucking peter-puffer. I s’pose the NHL was pretty smart in suspending your faggoty-ass for tonight’s game because I’m pretty angry right now and just like The Incredible Hulk, you ain’t gonna like me when I’m angry.
“An eye for an eye” is usually the conventional wisdom for this type of situation, Ohlund, but I wouldn’t have simply broken your leg – when I was done with you they would have been scraping your carcass off the ice with a shovel and a squeegee, you miserable cocksucker. I guess you’ll have to get yours some other time. Remember, my goon’s memory is like a steel trap – and that’s what I am, you little pile of monkey shit – a god-damn-bad-ass-leave-you-stuck-using-a-colostomy-bag-for-the-rest-of-your-life goon. Listen up, Mattias, and tell your pussy-ass teammates, too – it’s time for me to get my goon on – and you ain’t going to like it…
Hey Ohlund, remember that movie The Usual Suspects? Remember when Kevin Spacey is telling that story to the cop about when Keyser Soze goes on that revenge killing spree after those Hungarians rape and kill his family? It goes something like:
“…then he goes after the rest of the mob. He kills their kids, he kills their wives, he kills their parents and their parents’ friends…”
And so on and so forth. Well, snatchlips, you might as well call me the Keyser Soze of the NHL, motherfucker, cuz I’m gonna be taking a run at your “mob” tonight. Then I’m gonna go find your mama in Sweden and see how she likes two-handed slashes across the back of her legs. Don’t worry, a broken leg won’t be too much of an inconvenience since that bitch probably spends most of the time on her back anyway. Whore.
Speaking of your teammates, or the Pussy Brigade as I like to call them, I hear you three “so-called agitators” have been running your mouths to the press this week – you think your stupid head games are going to work on me? Hey Kesler, I heard you told Vancouver reporters that, and I quote,
“Boogaard isn’t much of a hockey player, so I guess he has to be a tough guy for them.”
And Burrows, you went on to say, and I quote again,
“It doesn’t really bother me what Boogaard says. When he’s on the ice, it’s a plus for us.”
You have got to be kidding me. Everyone knows I’m not on the ice to score goals – I’m on the ice to intimidate, to punish and to wreak havoc – and I must be doing my job well because you pansies scurry off the ice every time I hop over the boards. It’s time to put up or shut up, peckerheads.
And Matt Cooke, hoo boy do I have something planned for you. I haven’t forgotten last year when you skated away from me like the little bitch that you are. You’re such a stupid bastard, I bet when you go to take a shit you forget to pull down your pants half of the time, so let me refresh your memory:
Jesus Christ. What a fucking coward. You better keep your head on a swivel tonight cuz I’m coming after you. My dance card is filling up quickly but I saved you a spot. I’m going to knock you into next week. I’m gonna hit you so hard your kids will be born dizzy. I’m gonna flip you like a cheese-fuckin’-omelette. And if I knew I could get away with it, I’d leave you crappie-flopping on the ice like Clint Malarchuk. That’s right, I’m one sick puppy.
By the way, what I can’t take care of tonight, there are a couple of hard-piping motherfuckers on my crew that are ready to back me up. My boys Aaron Voros and Brent Burns are ready to throw down. Christ, even Pierre-Marc Bouchard and Marian Gaborik are sick of all of your shit.
Oh man, I cannot fucking wait – it’s on like Donkey Kong, bitches.