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“That’s disgusting,” Luca Haas grimaced on the bench, but didn’t turn away from the Ice Crew member using a shovel to remove a dead octopus from the ice.
“Welcome to Detroit,” Ilya squirted water into his mouth from the ice. His line had been out when play had been unexpectedly paused.
“This isn’t my first time here!” Luca frowned. It was at the end of his second year in the MLH, and Detroit was in their Division. He was very familiar with the Pizza Palace.
“Yes, but you’ve never been here when they were playoff hunting. They need to win the next three of their four games to get the last wild card spot,” Shane explained next to him on the bench.
Ilya smiled as the Ice Crew member held up the creature with pride while the whole arena cheered, “That won't happen.”
“Just be glad you weren’t at the last game at their old arena like I was,” Boodram shuddered next to Ilya. “Pus everywhere.”
Ilya’s face lit up, and Shane shook his head. “Rozanov loves it,” he told Haas. “He’ll give some long tale about how he loves fan participation and tradition, but he really just thinks saying pus is funny.”
“Road pus is the best,” Ilya beams. “I got to experience that once in Boston.”
Boodram slapped Ilya’s arm. “Dude, your husband is right there.”
“They do this at away games too?” Luca’s eyes got even wider.
“Very rarely,” Ilya frowned. “Mostly in Denver.”
“Harder to get through security and away with it at other arenas,” Shane patted his calf.
“Let me guess, you also think it’s disgusting?” Boodram pointed his water bottle at Shane, a few drops of water shooting out.
“He did,” Ilya answered for Shane, pouting. “But then he learn Rose Landry and her brothers used to sneak them in when they were little. Now he thinks it funny.”
“Wait, really?” Luca turned his body so he was fully facing Shane.
“She did it once!” He held up one finger to emphasize his point. “They were cracking down on it that year, and her brothers really wanted to, so they wrapped it in plastic, strapped it around her thigh, and she wore a dress. Security never expected a little girl to sneak one in.”
“Holy shit!” Dykstra skated over from where he had been talking to Coach Wiebe, only hearing the last part. “That’s fucking awesome.”
“I still don’t get it,” Luca frowned. “Their mascot isn’t any type of sea creature.”
Shane, who has read about every hockey book that was ever written, straightened his back. “Back before the 70s-”
“When Scott Hunter was young,” Ilya interrupted.
Shane rolled his eyes. “Back before the 70s, you only needed eight wins to secure the Cup.” He held up eight fingers poorly with his gloved hands. “Eight wins, eight tentacles.”
Luca’s mouth dropped open. “That’s it? That’s the reason why?”
“Is good reason for pus,” Ilya took one last sip and grabbed his stick that was resting against the board. “Pus break over, time to play.”