Ah, December. The month of snow, stress, drunken office parties, and the Montreal Canadiens taking it easy, slipping in the standings and, for the most part, eating a dick.
Let’s travel back to last year when December brought with it a slump borne of feeble play and a powerful flu virus. Players began dropping like flies, their insides repeatedly flushed out through every orifice. Others succumbed to injury. It was a puking, shitting, rehabbing mess. By the time the fellas recovered, they were out of a playoff spot.
As for this December? The Habs have dropped six straight at home, including a game that saw them blow a four-goal lead with the speed of a hooker on Ste. Catherine Street. As of this writing, Steve Begin, Bryan Smolinski and Patrice Brisebois are all sidelined with injuries. Michael Ryder recently took a seat in the press box, and Carbonneau has been juggling lines like a
hooker on Ste. Catherine Street a recent École Nationale de Cirque grad at an audition for Cirque du Soleil.
Yes, you read that right: we have a circus school in Quebec. There’s also a restaurant chain that named a sandwich after Celine Dion. And just like her every night, it gets filled with meat that’s been around for a good 65 years.
As predicted earlier this year by yours truly, this December deja vu can only mean one thing: Guy Carbonneau is going to kill somebody. So whom will Carbo kill and how will he do it?
Read on for Clue: The Habs Edition.
Player: Saku Koivu
Weapon: Long shifts
Details: Saku is pretty much the hardest working player night in and night out. Carbo isn’t going to kill Koivu on purpose. If it happens, it will be because Carbo puts Koivu on for an entire game and the poor little European’s heart gives out. Well, either that or cancer. (I know, I’m going to hell.)
Player: Patrice Brisebois
Weapon: Poisoned stripper panties
Details: Carbo and Brisebois go way back. They won a cup together in Montreal, and the coach seemed happy to have him back in town. Except now Breezer is injured, the boo birds are back in the stands, and I heard Brisebois failed to pick up the tab at Chez Parée recently. Carbo will enlist the help of a fine young peeler who will lace her panties with arsenic and place them in Breezer’s mouth at the end of a lap dance. Then Carbo will of course have to strangle the stripper to cover his tracks. Not the most likely death, but it would result in the biggest loss to the team. After all, good strippers are hard to come by.
Player: Alex Kovalev
Weapon: Tape recorder
Details: This fine Russian gent is on his way to one of his best seasons in years. You’d think that would save him from the wrath of Carbo. No. The problem is that Kovalev is — how you say? — a big-mouthed prick. If things keep going downhill, he’s going to say something stupid to the press, such as suggest the team get rid of Carey Price and “bring in Russian truck driver who make no goal go in net!” Nyet, comrade. You’ve got a decent chance of one day walking into the locker room to find Carbo ready to impale you with a Sony digital recorder.
Player: Michael Ryder
Weapon: Carbonneau’s bare hands
Details: Poor Ryder. He has back-to-back 30 goal seasons and then goes for another one-year contract because he assumes he’s about to up his totals again. Instead, he’s been regularly dropped off the top line and even made an appearance in the press box. Now he’s going to be pinned down and strangled by Carbo because the coach can’t bare the thought of another
man team getting to experience the pleasure of a Ryder 30-goal season after this year. It will be a crime of passion but, unlike many perpetrators of such crimes, Carbonneau won’t feel any guilt. In fact, he’ll probably send the corpse down to the AHL after it clears waivers.
Details: Youppi was temporarily without a home after the Expos were so rudely removed from our city by the Bud Selig-Jeffrey Loria-David Samson troika of douchebaggery. Then the Canadiens stepped in. Now he bobbles his way around the Bell Centre, hugging kids, ogling MILFs, and otherwise driving Carbonneau crazy. With Gainey paying extra attention to the players, Carbo’s only choice might be to lure Youppi into a dark alley with the promise of a hot, drunk Montreal mom, and then suffocate him by plugging all the air holes in his costume. The kids will cry, but at lest Carbonneau’s bloodlust will be sated. Honestly, it’s the only way to get this team back on track. Youppi must die