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Chapter 60: Abby II or The Land of Fruits and Nuts
Aebischer was feeling slightly giddy as he left the room and the decadent buffet table. It was a light almost nauseated feeling that seemed to slowly spread in his stomach, there must have been something off about that brownie, he figured.
Not food poisoning! He thought to himself. That was the last thing that he wanted.
"Hey, Tangers," he said to Alex, "How do you feel?"
Tangers shrugged. "OK," he said. "Why?"
Aebischer nodded. "Just wondering."
Not food poisoning, Abby thought if Alex is feeling OK. Maybe he was getting a touch of the flu. Dammit!
"Oooooh, Patty," Aebischer moaned.
Patty turned around, grinning and winking lazily with one eye. "Oui?"
"I feel sick! How do you feel?" he asked.
Patty frowned; he looked up to the ceiling as if he were really pondering the question. "Eh... I feel great!" he finally said. And then he belched.
"No one touched the punch did they?!" Pat Karns cried as he dashed out of the buffet room. "It’s spiked with Vodka and God knows what else! I’m gonna shut this caterer down!"
All the guys looked at Patty who glared right back at them. Abby gave Patrick his prettiest smile, and Patrick narrowed his eyes. Aebischer finally looked at Karns and grinned. I could turn him in and get the game tonight, he thought, on the other hand... I want to see what would happen! "No, Pat, darling, no one touched the punch."
"Whew!" Karns breathed, leaning against the wall. "Good!"
"You good to go, Patty?" Footer asked, grabbing Patrick’s hand in his own and patting it. David cocked his head to one side and grinned.
"Oui," Patty said... "Am good to go like... like whore on Navy Ship."
"Aaaah! Mr. Abby! Mr. Abby! Can I have an autograph?!"
David stopped and peered into the crowd of railbirds clustered outside of the Shark Tank. He was used to hearing Patrick’s name being called out, not his own, and certainly not by his hideous nickname. A teenage boy was hopping up and down and holding out a marker and photograph, a hopeful glint in his eyes.
"Alright," Abby said with a tired sigh, that nauseated warmth in his stomach had spread throughout his body, and now he just felt slightly tilted. It must be the flu! He slipped the marker and photo from the boy’s hands and positioned it on the binder the boy handed him. "Whom shall I write this one too, Darling," he said doing his best to dredge up a smile. He was feeling so loopy he suddenly felt like he couldn’t remember how to blink.
"Adam!" the boy said.
David smiled. "OK," he said and he scrawled the signature on the photo, "Here ya go mein liebchen."
"Thanks!" the boy gasped taking the picture back and blowing on it.
Abby ignored the rest of the gaping railbirds and he began to stumble a bit into the arena and he could barely hear the boy as he cried out. "SambaBoy?? He signed it to SambaBoy!!"
He wasn’t feeling any better at the start of the second period, and for an instant, Abby actually thought that he was going to vomit. The only thing he was grateful for, was that Patrick was playing and he could just sit on the bench and watch. After the game he knew he would have to go see Pat and get some meds.
"Ugh, I feel sick!" Yeller moaned as he plopped onto the bench next to Abby.
"Really?" Abby asked. "Interesting, I feel that way myself."
Yelle leaned over, near Abby’s ear and he whispered. "Yeah, I think something was wrong with the brownies..."
"You think so?" Abby said, raising his eyebrows.
Yelle’s eyes were glassy and somewhat blank looking and he nodded his head loosely. "Yah huh," he said. "Seeeee.... something like..... something like.... shit... shit... Hey Coach! Is it my line change yet?"
Hartley looked over and glared. "You just sat down, pay attention!"
"MMmmmmm," Yelle moaned. "I don’t wanna die!"
Abby leaned over and patted Yelle on the shoulder. "Calm down, love, you’re not rational."
"I am too!" Yelle persisted. "I feel it! Like a warmth... something like... it’s warm... and squishy... and like there... someone poisoned them see... cause... they did!"
Abby yawned. "Honestly, I do not feel as bad as you are and I had some brownie. Of course I didn’t eat half a pan like you did and if I did I think I would be slightly paranoid myself."
Yelle’s eyes widened. "You’re with them aren’t you?"
"Pardon?" Abby asked, batting his eyes.
"Yeah," Yelle said, "I knew it."
"Who?"
"Nevermind," Yelle said quietly, "I’ve said too much."
Abby yawned again, he wasn’t really tired but he usually yawned to show someone how boring they were. He leaned forward on his thighs and watched the game. He could hear Patty barking from where he was sitting. Pretty clearly in fact, Patty was really animated today, wasn’t he. Still, he didn’t envy him. Already there had been something like fourteen serious defensive breakdowns and Abby wasn’t sure that the boys even had that many shots on net while the Sharks had already snapped off quite a few. It was quite a busy night for the netminder.
"What is wrong with you?" Coach Hartley yelled. "You’re all flat footed! Pick it up! Pick it up!"
"Sorry, Coach," Forsberg gasped. "It’s... it’s... I don’t feel good!"
"What?" Hartley yelled. "Dammit don’t give me that!"
"Same here," Footer groaned. "Something’s not right."
Abby shook his head and looked up to the ice just in time to see Owen Nolan thunder through on a breakaway and at 10:31 in the second period, he ripped off the Sharks 32 shot on net and scored. The building erupted with cheers and Abby could still hear Patrick curse through all of that. It seemed like the story of the season so far as he could fathom, nothing seemed to go right on the ice, but he was pretty sure they’d pull through.
"Are you satisfied?" Hartley bellowed. "Dammit pull something out, now!"
"Yeah coach!" Drury yipped, nodding his head.
Drury hopped over the boards and Forsberg didn’t hop over so much as he tried to swing a leg over and he collapsed on the ice, scrambling to his feet and scooting up the ice, almost tailing Drury. Abby frowned, what the hell was he doing? Drury fished out a puck and flicked it over to Peter who didn’t seem ready for the pass and almost immediately, he lost it to Patrick Marleau. "Dammit Peter!" he could hear Chris yell.
Damage was done. Marleau and his linemates swarmed into the Avs’ zone crashing at the net and Skoula and Kaspar seemed very ineffective as the puck was passed prettily from Shark to Shark. Patrick did his best to slide from side to side but there were too many passes and it was plopped into the unguarded side of his net. As the lights flashed and the crowd screamed, Patrick roared and grabbed Skoula roughly by his arm, ripping up his mask and bellowing into his face. Skoula just nodded his head dumbly, blinking rapidly. Abby decided that he didn’t feel too sorry for Skoula, he’d always wanted to do that to a defenseman, it was every goalie’s dream.
"God damn you all!" Hartley spat. "Will that get you moving? Patty is not bailing you out anymore! Get it up!"
"I can’t get it up!" Foote wailed not even noticing when the whole bench looked at him.
David smiled. "Adam, darling," he said.
Footer looked at him, blinking with eyes that were glassy and doelike. "Huh?"
"Have you got a monkey on your back?" he asked.
Footer’s mouth crumpled and his whole face reminded David of someone who had a concussion. He couldn’t remember seeing Adam hit too horribly thus far into the game.
"Monkey?" Adam asked and then he began staring at the ceiling.
As the period ticked on, David watched the team’s play increasingly degenerate. Well, it wasn’t the team; it was just a few guys, all the brownie munchers in fact. David burped a little; he was feeling more and more lethargic.
Patrick was gonna explode David thought. He was moving so fast and desperately, stopping so many shots in such rapid succession, point shots, screened shots, slapshots, shots that were being jammed at him, that Abby was certain that smoke was gonna start wafting from Patrick’s joints. He wasn’t a young man by any means and he couldn’t hold up much longer. It was gorgeous to watch though and as Abby watched, more comfortable warmth seeped through his blood and swirled within him. It was a strange irony for a goalie to yell at the defensemen for allowing too many shots to be fired at them, but at the same time, they craved those shots and there was no more an intoxicating feeling than stopping them. Ooooh, Abby thought, Patrick must be in such bliss right now. It was a lot like lust to experience it; Patrick was right on that.
"Hey... hey..." he heard Footer mutter. "L-L-Look at the ceiling!"
"What?" Blake asked. A confused grin crossed his face. "I don’t see a thing."
"There... there’s gotta be like... like... thirty eight monkeys up there!" Foote muttered.
"What?!" Drury exclaimed.
"Yeah," Forsberg said. "Thirty eight!"
Abby smiled and leaned his head to one side, watching as Dru and Blakie exchanged glances on opposite sides of Footer and Fops.
"Yeah, fifty three monkeys," Footer said.
"Woah! I see them!" Foppa answered. "Fifty three!"
"What is wrong with you?!" Drury cried. "We’re getting our asses kicked and you’re babbling about fifty three monkeys?!"
"Nooooooo!" Foote drawled. "Ninety seven monkeys! They’re gonna get us!"
"Ninety seven," Peter murmured.
Abby glanced up at the ceiling just to make sure, but the movement of his head swinging up to the ceiling made him too dizzy to think.
"Shit!" Blakie said. "Thank God for line changes I’m outta here!"
"Coaaaaach!" Tangers wailed. "Pascal grabbed my ass and the guys are talking about seeing ninety seven monkeys!"
Hartley glared in their direction.
"Nah," Footer drawled. "A hunnerd and fifty two monkeys."
"Yeah," Foppa said, thinking on that and finally he said in a perky voice. "That’s a whole lotta monkeys!"
Abby couldn’t stop laughing and he coughed. When the horn sounded to end the third period, he thought of how lucky they were to be in just a 2-0 deficit.
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