6 Hours Ago

PhilipMarleauJr was not used to having the puck passed to him.  Upon trying out for the Mafia Men's League team, he was offered the role of team mascot.  After some tantrums, the team begrudgingly signed him to the roster.  He spent a majority of the season relegated to the bench, until tonight when the majority of the team had come down with a nasty case of the CLOronavirus and no-showed the game, leaving them no other choice than to put PhilipMarleauJr on the ice.

Adrenaline pumped through PhilipMarleauJr's varicose veins as his stick met the puck.  This was his moment to shine, and he knew he had to make this count.  It was third period with seconds on the clock, the score a lackluster 0-0.  The local Boss had a lot of money riding on this game and PhilipMarleauJr hoped to his gain favour by means of winning the matchup.

He skated up the ice harder than he had ever skated before, the screams from the crowd becoming deafening.  He shut his eyes "This is it", he said quietly to himself as he cocked his stick back and connected with the puck with a perfect slapshot.  The puck went sailing through the air and into the net.  The buzzer sounded.  PhilipMarleau raised his stick in the air in triumph.

"YES!" he shrieked.  But his celebration was short lived.

"PhilipMarleauJr you idiot!!!  You scored on your own goal!!!" yelled his coach.

"WHAAAAT???" PhilipMarleauJr cried back.  But it was too late.  The buzzer sounded.  The game was over.  1-0.  PhilipMarleauJr had cost his team, The Hartford Whelans, the game and in turn cost the local mob boss a lot of money.  He skated off the ice, head hung low, back to the locker room as the crowd showered him with trash and boos.

3 Hours Ago

PhilipMarleauJr sat sobbing alone in the locker room.  The rest of the team was ignoring him.  This was nothing new, but for some reason this time it hurt extra hard.  "Thanks a lot, PhilipMarleauJr." said one of his teammates as he passed him, shaking his head in disgust.  But it wasn't his teammates' wrath that had PhilipMarleauJr worried, it was the wrath of the local mob boss who had lost a substantial amount of money on the game that concerned him most.

PhilipMarleauJr felt a comforting hand on his back.  It was his friend Bruno.

"Hey champ, don't worry. Everyone makes mistakes."

"The local mob boss is going to kill me!" whined PhilipMarleauJr.

Bruno smiled. "I've got a plan.  Set a meeting with the mob boss.  Tell him you actually bet against your team and scored on your own goal on purpose!  I happen to know that the local mob boss bet 100k on the game.  Tell him you bet 400k on the game with the intent of cutting the local mob boss in for 300k.  That's 100k more than what he would have otherwise won!  Sure, it'll cost you a fair sum of money, but it might just spare your life."

"That's a swell idea!" PhilipMarleauJr exclaimed.  "I'll set a meeting with him for 3 hours from now!"

"Ok," said Bruno. "Let's rehearse what we're going to say."

Present time

The local mob boss started across the table impatiently at PhilipMarleauJr.  He was still very angry about losing his money, even 6 hours after the fact.

"So? What do you have to say for yourself?"

PhilipMarleauJr cleared his throat and addressed the mob boss...

"Well you see, I uh.... well...... hmmmm.  Well when I.... let me start over, when you bet on the game, I um.... I uhhhh.... uhhhhh.... UHHHHHH... oh no I FORGOT WHAT I WAS GOING TO SAY!"

Humiliated, he ran out the door and into his model-T car, hoping to speed away.  He threw the car into reverse backing into a fire hydrant.  Water shot from the sidewalk. soaking the car's interior along with PhilipMarleauJr.  The local mob boss's expression of anger dissolved into one of delight as he and his henchmen pointed and laughed.

PhilipMarleauJr banged his head against the steering wheel, his car horn hoking comically with each impact of his forehead.  He should have never agreed to lie to the local mob boss.

But a valuable lesson was learned.  Sometimes owning up to your mistakes is the best policy in This Thing of Ours.