A fictional short story by Supratuck
There are many different things that people look forward to in their daily life. For me and three other of my friends, it was hockey practice. This wasn’t because we thoroughly enjoyed getting yelled at by a coach with funny looking shoes. It wasn’t the yells or the screams we got from our psychotic overweight captain. It was the short, 15 minute ride to the rink, and the ride back. How could a car ride be the best thing about hockey practice? Well this was no ordinary carpool. This was the greatest, most out of control carpool in the history of hockey practice carpools.
It would all begin when a senior by the name of “Hernando” would come pick me up. We would then proceed to pick up Steve, upon which he would take forever to get out of the house. We would wait in his driveway forever honking, and he would always come out of his house, hands filled with a pre-practice snack, each day it was a different snack, and each day the food looked more and more disgusting. We then picked up J.O., whereas me and Steve would jump out of the car and compile as much snow as possible onto the floor, and proceed to make snowballs. Everyday Hernando would rant, “What the fuck! Throw that shit out!” Whereupon we would say, “Hernando, we’re gonna be late! Its just water when it melts anyway!” After some mumbling, we were again on our way and this time we came to Newcomb’s house. In order to make us all completely hype for the car ride, he body-slammed Hernando’s hood, usually causing minor damage. By now, Steve had one of his mix tapes blasting, usually of something he downloaded off WCBN or cable-radio.
We were now on our way to practice. We took a few warm up shots with snowballs at a stop sign, or a dog or something, but once we hit Stadium, anything was fair game. All our windows were rolled all the way down (except Hernando’s) even though it was below freezing temperatures and we were on the open road. No one seemed to mind. We pegged a car here, a car there, but then a familiar face: Mark Retting-Smith! Walking on the sidewalk, truly deserving “it”. We unleashed our fury upon him, and BANG! Steve’s got him square in the chest. He collapsed and yelled something, but our car was too overjoyed to hear what he said. Picture a car going 45 mph, and heaving a well packed snowball into his potbelly. He most likely still has a mark from it today. Well we were now getting closer to the rink, but the fun wasn’t close to being over. I had purchased some nacho cheese just for the purpose of chucking it at this old, broken down Impala, that truly did deserve a good nacho-cheesing. As we passed it, I heaved it and it splattered everywhere. By now, we were taking turns shifting Hernando’s car in to neutral without him knowing, and he was getting rather peeved about it. Nonetheless, we made it to the rink just in time to sprint to the locker room as quick as possible.
Our coach used to always tell us, “You should never have any energy after a practice! You should have spent it all on the ice!” I think the opposite though. Practice just got us jacked up. It woke us up from our long day of school. It was our Cappucino for the day. Now Hernando always tried to ditch us, so we had to get undressed super fast. As we get to the car he would say, “Ok, I need some gas money.” We would always be quick to say, “Oh, I’ll get you tomorrow.” Which really meant, “Hey, maybe when I reach into my ass and pull out a $20, you’ll get your precious gas money.”
Of course we had piled a crazy amount of snow into the car, by now the seats were soaking wet. We had other random garbage that we threw off the highway overpass as we passed. And of course, a car behind us got pissed and followed us. But by now Hernando was used to this so we knew how to avoid them. Of course we almost hit several cars en route, but we lost the chaser. By now we were totally hype, and at the next light proceeded to do a Chinese fire drill. We sprinted around until the light turned yellow, and hopped back in. Now we were all rumbling each other. Hernando was getting sooooo pissed, but he couldn’t do anything about it, his goal was to just take us home, so the quicker he got to our houses the quicker we were gone. And he didn’t find it amusing that whoever was in the backseat would put they’re hands over his eyes for a second or two. And by the time we got to someone’s house, we’d get out and throw snowballs at it.
Now this ride home included some other things we would always do, such as: Christmas spirit, hoodies, driving on lawns, pissing in Ming’s gastank, doing donuts, going to Hernando’s and throwing snowballs at his house, doing the macerena, jumping out of the car and river dancing in front of the car, opening all doors and creating airplane effect, pouring leaves and stuff we stole from McDonalds all over Burts Neon and having Herb call us, but if I went into all these, this story would be more of an epic than the Illiad.
supratuck speaks-the modern sitcom