Chapter 3: The truth about the Phantom…
Hello people! I just want to say that I'm so, so happy to be getting so many reviews! And from Canadians, no less! I thought all the Canadians would come and hunt me down with an army of Mounties and cannons… but hey! If you like it, that's good.
Doesn't matter: I'm doing… okay. As good as can be expected, I guess. Luckily, I have good friends intent on keeping my mind on the good things. I think I'll pull through ;).
Jamea: STERIOTYPES ARE FUN! I love Maple syrup… crap, now I'm craving it… any who, thanks for the review!
Fuzzy-Pamplemousse: … w00t!
Just Plain Insane: American stereotypes? I don't know about that one… I asked a friend, and she said there was something about all Americans having guns or something stupid like that.
Featured Stereotypes: that Canadians are obsessed with hockey/ the play offs (this one was used before, but it's my favorite. Besides, my dad's crazy when the playoffs are on, so there you go…), and that Canadians are nothing but happy all the time
Disclaimer: I'm just a poor Canadian girl with some strange ideas. Don't hurt me.
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So… since she was all alone, Christine got out a plastic hockey puck and started to practice her shooting, relishing the wonderful scraping noise her slap shot made with her new stick. Suddenly, a strange yet sexy voice could be heard in her room.
"So… who was the fruity guy with the poutine on his head, eh?" it asked (A/N: Poutine is French fries covered with cheese and gravy, just so you know).
"Ugh, that was Raoul. I knew him when I was little, and he thinks I suddenly like him or something, but I don't, and I'm trying to avoid him, eh?"
"Ah…" the voice was understanding. "So, do you like your hockey stick?"
"Oh, yes!" Christine held it up. "It's the perfect size for me, eh?"
"I'm glad you like it."
They where silent for a time, Christine practicing with her hockey stick and the voice seeming to be thinking something over.
"So," it finally asked, "Do you want to come over and… eh… watch the playoffs on my new big-screen T.V.?"
Christine gasped in excitement. "Really?"
"Really."
"THAT WOULD BE AWESOME, EH?"
"Okay, well, look into the mirror, eh? I'm going to do something ingenious!"
"Cool!"
Christine waited and, after a second or two, a mist filled her room. Damn heater's broken again. She thought, rubbing her arms as the frost set in.
"Mister voice person, it's getting kind of cold, eh?" she said, "Perhaps you could speed this up a bit?"
"Just a second!" after a few moments, the shape of a man appeared in the mirror. He was tall and sexy and wearing a Philadelphia Phantoms (such a team actually excists!) jersey and wearing half of an old-fashioned goalie mask (the white ones like from Friday 13th and stuff). Intrigued, Christine went to the mirror and found that it was open, and the strange man offered his hand.
Without realizing what she was going, Christine followed the man through a maze of tunnels until they reached a frozen lake. The man handed her a pair of skates and they glided across the lake, passing an old goalie net filled with a goalie stick, pads, and other gear.
"You play a lot of hockey down here, eh?" Christine asked.
The man shrugged. "Not really. I just collect old gear."
"Ah…"
Once they where across the ice, Christine saw the most beautiful thing in the world: a big screen T.V. with a hockey game playing on it. In front of it was a table and a comfy looking couch, and on the table where all sorts of delicious snacks.
"Oh, wow!" Christine exclaimed
The man grinned. "Welcome to me home, eh?"
Christine and the man sat side by side on the couch and opened a bag of cheetos. They cheered late into the night, sharing the most beautiful Canadian experience: their team had won. Christine fell asleep on the couch by the time the game was over, but the strange man didn't mind. He covered her with a blanket bearing the Philadelphia Phantom's emblem and left her to sleep off the effects of poutine and beer.
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When Christine woke up, she heard someone playing the Good Old Hockey Game on the piano and went to investigate. She found the strange man from the night before playing the piano, but he didn't notice her.
Suddenly, she remembered his mask: why did he wear it? She was overcome by a totally un-Canadian feeling of unbridled curiosity and, while under it's intoxicating clutches, she did the most terrible thing possible.
She ran up to the man and snatched off his goalie mask.
The man had a quite un-Canadian shit fit and whirled around, shouting at her.
"HOW DARE YOU STEAL MY MASK, EH?" He shrieked. "NOT ONLY IS THAT RUDE, BUT IT IS JUST PLAIN UN-CANADIAN!"
Christine stared at him in fear, not because he was ugly (because the side that the mask had been covering was terribly deformed), but because she recognized his ugliness from tales told by the stage manager. This was, in fact, the Phantom of the country club!
As all of this ran through Christine's mind, the Phantom turned from her with tears in his eyes. "I guess you don't like me anymore because I'm ugly, eh?" he asked. "They wouldn't let me be in the NHL because of my face… and they wouldn't let me act, either." His voice shook. "And now you'll leave me, eh?"
Christine got to her feet and handed the mask back. "… Sorry about that, eh?" she murmured, blushing. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."
The Phantom glanced at her, then snatched the mask and fixed it to his face. Once it was in place, he turned back to her and said, "You should be going back, eh? They'll be worried."
"Yeah." Christine admitted.
And so, in silence, the Phantom took her back home.
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So, good chapter? Review and let me know!
