It is a calm afternoon in Jonathan's Toews's house as Toews is in his sun-filled living room, ironing his Chicago Blackhawks away jersey while whistling. He is then stopped by a familiar knocking coming from his front door.
Toews straightens up, looking at his front red door behind his shoulder, since it is behind him. "That sounds like Kaner's knock!" He places the iron iron table properly and exits the living room, breezing past the small kitchen and to the front door. He opens it up and sure enough, there was his best buddy on the other side.
But his best buddy, Patrick, didn't look so good.
"Hey, Kaner!" Toews extends his arms in the air while a huge smile on his face.
"Oh, Jonathan man, thank God you're here!"
He drops his arms with a confused look. "Are you okay? You seem really tense."
"Because I am, dude, I need to talk to you!" Patrick grabs his friend's wrist and drags him into his own house. Toews did manage to close the door on time while Patrick was dragging him.
"Peeks, what's wrong?" Toews asks as he plops onto the sofa that is next to the ironing table.
"What's wrong?" Patrick repeats with emphasis as he stands right in front of him. "Everything, man! Dude, the NHL is taken over by the EHP!"
"EHP?" Toews cocks an eyebrow. "What the heck is the EHP?"
"They're the evil hockey players, man: Evil Hockey Players Society!"
Toews chuckles a bit. "They're evil hockey players? Evil hockey players took over the NHL."
"Yea, dude, that's true!"
"Kanerboo, no one can take over the NHL--you should know that."
"No, man, there are evil players out there who want to take over the NHL!" Patrick practically repeats.
Toews sighs mirthlessly while running his fingers through his short, kind of spiky, brown hair. "Alright then, if that's true... I can't say why nothing has changed in the NHL since it's off season, but... If this is true, how is the NHL gonna get out of the 'bad guys' possession?" He drops his hand onto his lap.
"That's why I'm here, dude--to tell you that you're the one who is going to save the NHL!" Patrick points to his captain.
Toews's brown eyes widen with shock. "What? Peeks, are you okay?" He stands up slowly.
"No, man, no, I'm not joking, Tazer dude, I'm dead serious; you are the one who is going to save the NHL from the EHP!"
"Hahaha-- How am I gonna do that?" Toews crosses his arms.
"Man, by your powers."
Toews frowns at his friend. "Powers?" He wrinkles his nose with disgust. "I don't have powers."
"Yes, you do, dude. The iPad said so. Man, you got powers that will banish the evil people and bring back the NHL, dude."
"Whatever iPad told you that must be malfunctioning because powers don't exist!" Toews walks next to Patrick, facing him so that he is between the sofa and the wall that has his flat screen TV.
Patrick turns to Toews, so that his back is facing the front door. "Yes, they do, man."
"No, they don't."
"Uh, yes they do, dude."
"No, they don't."
"Tazer man, they do."
"Kaner, they don't. That's impossible!"
"No, it's not, dude."
"Yes, it is."
"No, it's not, man."
"Yes, it is."
"No, it's not, du--"
"Yes--it--is!" Toews snaps harshly with gritted teeth.
"Jonathan man, can you please just accept that fact that you have powers, dude, because we need you to save the NHL before anything major happens to it so just come with me, man, and we can get you ready to save the NHL!" Patrick blurts out.
"Who's we?"
"The GHP, dude."
"The GHP?" Toews makes a confused look. "What is that?"
"Good Hockey Players' Society, man."
"And you're in that?"
"Yea...'cause I'm a good guy with powers, dude."
"You have powers?"
"Yea, man."
Toews groans and shakes his head. "Peeks, I think you need some fresh air. Why don't you go...leave, okay--?" He extends his hand towards the front door.
"No, dude, I'm fine and I'm not leaving without you, man!" Patrick's hands turn into fists.
"Yes, you are, 'cause to be honest, you're freaking me out."
Patrick blinks for a moment, softening his trying-to-be stubborn self. "Dude, I am?"
"Yea, you are because you're talking about me having powers when in reality powers don't even exist and here you say that you have powers and you're saying that evil players have the NHL, which is just full of nonsense! You gotta take a step outside, okay? Then you can talk to me about things that actually happen in life, alright?" Toews has his hands clasped to each other above his chest.
"Jonathan man, what I'm saying is true! Dude, can you please just let me show you how what I'm saying is true?" Patrick cries.
"No! I've got better things to do than to play 'superhero!' Patrick, I love ya, but can you please just go?"
"No, man, I'm not leaving without you! You're coming with me!" Patrick extends his hand towards his friend to force him to take him to the HQs, but he stops when he sees his hand that has the size of Toews's flat screen TV. Shoot... My powers are getting out of hand due to my growing anger...
Toews's eyes grow as wide as pucks as he saw the abnormal size of his friend's hand; he cringes a bit. "Patrick..."
Patrick quickly slips his hand behind his back, trying to think small. "Jonathan, dude..."
"...leave. Now."
Patrick dips his head. "You don't want to come with me...man?"
Toews narrows his eyes. "Not with a power freak like you."
Patrick makes a morose look exactly like the look he had when he lost to the Finns in the 2014 Winter Olympics. He lumbers out of the living room, past the kitchen, and out of the house with tears in his eyes.
Toews sits back down on his sofa, looking the front door closing; he then looks down at the wooden floor with his hands interlaced on his lap.