part one of two KNEE

Knee

I know the f**ker has a bad knee, a pus**y knee and a goddamn nervous twitch in his ankle that I could f**k him up real good with. Skate into him hard and just cut through his knee, end his f**king career. He already tried to end mine last season in practice, f**king practice. Going at my groin with the stick. Piece of shit. He knew I was aching and now I know his weakness. His Achilles heel and then he will never play this great game ever again. I spit on his pictures in the newspaper, which should be me. I assisted almost 4 goals last year and scored 3 and he scored 7 and 12 assists. Big deal. He can’t do shit with a busted knee and ill make that happen. Make him cry and ruin him forever. Sobbing. Like a little bitch. A little bald, stubborn, bitch and we used to be friends for god sakes. Playing on the same team. Side by side. On the same line. And we used to be friends but now I cannot stand the a**hole. I’m jealous and I know that but that should be me in the pedestal, happy joyful peaceful. A real player, a grown up hockey player who can hit hard and score goals and not some silly shot taking bastard who signs contracts with Nike and Adidas and forgets about me, his old friend, his brother, his teammate. But no, he just signs and signs and signs and I want my picture taken too.

Season opener. I’m fit enough to skate and so is he. He has “healed”, his knee is not just stringing off his leg anymore but tucked up in a nice little package underneath his knee pad. His Armour. I can slash him, body check him and trip him too, what shall I do? I insist that I am on the same line as him. This is my moment to shine. I see him smile through his visor at me. What a nice smile. I’m gonna f**k him up motherf**king good, the a**hole. As soon as his stick touches the puck he’s mine. I’m not going to describe every skate pattern and time on the clock and all that silly junk. I’m focused on him and the puck and his stick and his skate and his knee. I want his knee. I want it gone. Obliterated. Destroyed. Then I will laugh, laugh til I cry and wet myself. And here’s my moment to shine. He’s in the middle of the rink and my adrenaline is pumping. My heartbeat increases and I’m gliding slow and soft. Hunting. Waiting, It feels as if I am having a a heart attack through my jersey. Pulsating. Now I’m in the moment and my brain stops and he has the puck and I'm looking at him in the eye. He knows I know. I produce a hearty momentum and then I'm off. Full speed. Direct flight to his right knee and I slide and hit him, hard, and it breaks his knee but I hit my head and all I see is darkness, concussed, unconscious.