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Christmas Eve

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Two men drive to the NHL Draft.  The driver, tall, lithe and strong, is RUDY, a 25 year-old man of grace and eloquence.  The passenger, short, hunchbacked and with a tiny dick, is RUDY'S BROTHER.  They discuss the upcoming free agency period. 

Seriously, really tiny.  Like a plantain.

Rudy: Do you think the Kings will actually get Kovalchuk?

Rudy's brother: No, shit never works out for us.  He'll probably sign with Anaheim along with Volchenkov and Fro and we'll both kill ourselves.

Rudy: Yeah, probably.


Rudy's brother: ...Have you had a dream that Kovalchuk was on the Kings?

Rudy: Yeah.  A couple times.

Rudy's brother: I had one that I was watching a game and Kovalchuk sniped one coming down the wing and I could see my own face, like I was watching myself in a movie, and I jumped up into the air, screaming, "Ilya!" at the top of my lungs, and then I pumped my fist and I could see my eyes welling with tears and I was happy, so happy... and then I woke up.  What was yours?

Rudy: Kovalchuk finished a game and was showering and then I walked in an-

*thrown out of car