Ladies and gentlemen of the congregation, we are here today to perform an ancient rite on the Anaheim Ducks...
First we must recall what brought them to the brink of Dante's Inferno.
The team defied the odds as they went on a blistering start to the season despite dropping player after player. Then the plagues started.
It began with a virus. A virus called 'influenza'.
In order to keep the citizens of Orange County safe from this virus, the Ducks were sent to the state of Florida. (A place, I hear, we're trying to give to Cuba for free and even they don't want it.) Upon arrival, the team was immediately infected by rabies from feral Panthers roaming the ice. At first the rabies gave the Ducks a strength to overpower the Panthers. Then the disease mixed with the flu virus and they became easy prey for the starved cats. Of the few that survived the mauling, they were living on hope alone; the hope of seeing their captain back in the fold at their next destination - Tampa Bay.
The virus continued to claim victims and no relief was in sight. Trapped by the shackles of an upper-body injury, Ryan Getzlaf could not provide the tree for the Ducks to shelter under during the storm. Instead, the Ducks stood on a pool of frozen water and were struck by Lightning. Water and Lightning don't mix and Anaheim was electrocuted.
Singed, smelling of burnt hair and swamp, the Ducks traveled Carolina where another natural disaster was awaiting their arrival. Each time the Hurricane would come near, the Ducks were able escape from harms way, lead by the captain and his two side kicks - Pancake and the Klepto Kid. Alas, the Hurricanes won the overall fight; the twister picked up the Ducks and dropped them in the Land of the Chosen One.
Knowing they were up against a hockey deity, the Ducks gave everything they could...for one period. The Sirens began to sing a song that transfixed the Ducks focus from hockey to the plane back to So Cal.
They returned home; however, things weren't as they used to be. Even the holiest of grounds, Honda Center, wasn't safe any more. It had become infested with Devils. Tricking the Ducks into a feeling of uneasiness yet secure, the Devils slowly began to possess the soul of every Anaheim skater.
The eldest of the demons, the one they call Jagr, was nearly beaten by good, but managed to take full control extending the battle. It was there the Devils used Ben Lovejoy and the body of Corey Perry to beat themselves.
Time for action.
Let us pray. Holy father Gretzky, give us the strength to expel the demons of the past four games. Remind the players of what a penalty kill is so that it does not continue to kill them. Continue to encourage Ryan Getzlaf to shoot. Most of all, we pray you miraculously heal whatever is ailing Francois Beauchemin and give him the regenerative powers of Wolverine. In Scott Niedermayer's name we pray, amen.
In order to quell the evil lurking around the Ducks, we must demand the demons to leave. Repeat the statement below, really loud so your neighbors can hear you:
IN THE NAME OF TEEMU SELANNE - THE EMBODIMENT OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND LIGHT IN THE WORLD - I CAST THY DEMONS BACK TO THE RING OF HELL FROM WHENCE THEY CAME.
(Take the 405N and you should hit Los Angeles and San Jose.)
That should do the trick. Otherwise, save us Tim Jackman. We're not sure why you're here but you might be our only hope (not really).