More! With bigger guns! Hotter fire! More explosive explosions! DeathHammer is back with another installment of Hound heroics.
The Life and Times of Harvey the Hound...reading it is like hearing the voice James Earl Jones, only you hear it with your eyes.
The second period ended, and it was going to be a hell of a 3rd. Jarome had already done his work, scoring a hat trick against arch nemesis Nikolai Khabibulin; Fans were smart enough to distract him with dollar bills. Pax Comunista’s cannot resist the money of the free. Everything was as usual, but that's when it all went wrong.
Harvey was wandering through the concourse checking out post game prospects, when a filthy drunk, old white haired oiler fan, bulled over a helpless, innocent young flames fan. The scum just laughed. And that's when it happened. Harvey started to stare at nothing as he was brought back, back to a time when he wasn’t the best damn mascot in the NHL (whose constant poon pounding of Marilyn Monroe was truly what killed her).
It was a violent night. Thunder and lightning dominated, with rain and hail trying to do its best to catch-up. Harvey was driving one of his many pimp mobiles, trying to get back to his wife, and new born. With ‘6 day’s on the road’ blasting on 1060AM, Harvey knew it would only be a matter of time before he’d be home.
That’s when his car stopped. ‘WTF’ he thought to himself, as he got out to get a flash light out of his trunk. When it popped open, Harvey was in shock. All he saw was the bloodied corpse of his best friend Youppi. He had a bullet in the back of his head, and a note that was attached with a knife through his heart. With his hand shaking harder then Al Macinnis going an hour without a drink, Harvey reached out and grabbed the note. All it said was "RUN", in blood red.
Harvey took a couple of steps back, when all of a sudden…
A lightning bolt had struck the Hounds car, cremating Youppi, and creating one bad ass explosion at the same time. Harvey was in complete shock but knew he had to get back home, so he could see his family, and figure all this madness out. He wasn’t that far away after all.
An hour into his journey, Harvey was going well. He used what just happened to keep this mind off the malicious weather. He kept going over it in his head. 'RUN'. What did that mean?
And that’s when he noticed the high beams. Some sort of car was coming down the road. 'Help is here' he thought to himself. But as the car got closer, and closer, something didn’t feel right. All he could hear were not the thunder and lightning, or rain and hail, but the words of his fallen friend Youppi, “Le Run Harvey, Le Run Now!” And that’s what he did.
Frantically, the K-9 tried to out run this unrelenting vehicle of Hades. But it caught up.
The car drove through him like Danny Heatly had a new best friend to kill. And so Harvey laid there, motionless.
The mysterious car stopped, and this Jack The Ripper type, wearing a large hood, opened up the door. But it was strange. The man couldn’t walk straight, and was stumbling around... drunk, one might say.
“Hound, is that you?!” the man slurred. “I got you, you son of a bitch!”
H-Pound was alive, but was physically unable to fight back. “I'm here to kill you, Hound! To send you and you mascot types a message.” The drunk then took out a large, Jason like machete. “You see, some people like mascots, but where I come from... well where I come from, we hate mascots, boy.”
This sociopath then put his knee on Harvey's chest, and grabbed Harvey's lingua. With one evil swipe, he had removed Harvey's ability to sweat. Yes, he cut our hero's tongue off. "Hahahaha, that's just where we're starting." The executioner raised his arm up, ready to mutilate another part of Harvey when, ... his IPhone 4 rang. The murder couldn't resist but to pick it up.
"Yes, yes, I'm almost done the job. Hey you wanna video phone,... awesome."
The killer took his hook off.
Of course, Harvey thought. Drunk driving, after his tongue, the oiler car flag that I'll mention for the first time right now. The killer, now assassin, was... Craig Mactavish.
"I'll murder Harvey soon, then I'll move on to the next one. We'll rendezvous on top of the Calgary Tower."
The conversation was over, and time was running out for H-Doggy Dog.
Mac-T took out his pistol, and pointed it to the back of Harvey's head. "Too bad you gotta die in such shitty weather..."
"Le I'll remember to tell your loved ones those were your last words!" Youppi announced as shotgun shells ripped through Mac-T's now limp body. "Le are you ok my friend, Mr. Hound?"
"Yes, yes, I'm slowly Hulking up." Harvey then ripped his shirt off, and was totally fine, putting his tongue back on. His tie also became a bandana.
The two friends then walked over to a now begging Mac-T
"Please, please spare me, I'll give you Wayne Gretzky's phone number." The drunk pleaded.
"Ha, we all know the hockey aristocracy never gets prosecuted fully. You only got a year for killing that first chick." Harvey barked. Youppi-Christ and Har-V-D slowly took out their gats, and finished off what a judge should have.
A chill went down both their spines that was more like an aftershock. when they realized that instead of blood, alcohol pour out of Mac-T's useless carcass.
"How did you survive, friend?"
"Le, well, Mac-T attacked me, and stuffed me into your trunk. I was dead. But when the lightning hit, it rejuvenated me, and turn me back on. Fuck'en sweet, eh?"
Harvey told Youppi that Mac-T was meeting the kingpin of all this on top of the Calgary Tower, and that there was just enough fuel in the jet packs he saw in Mac-T's car to fly them there.
"Let's get ready to land, we're just about there." Harvey said.
"Le, I see him, let's get him!" Youppi replied.
The two hero's landed to confront the "Dr.Claw" like figure.
"You think you can kill mascots, and get away with it!?" The Hound exclaimed. "What is wrong with you!?"
The mysterious figure replied with his back still turned.
"You see boys, I love Edmonton. And therefore I hate everything else, and must make it more like Edmonton. It starts with calling a terrible Flames game, being a vaginal radio host, and yes, killing every mascot, as the mighty Oil do not have one."
With that, he dropped some smoke bombs, and flew off with his own jet pack, yelling SKEEEEEEEEYORE'S the whole way back to Dumpsville.
Harvey knew, it was ALPHA.
"Le hey Harvey, you wanna go to the red mile and use our celebrity to get bar sluts?"
"You know, I think you know me better then I know myself!"
"Hey Harvey, Harvey, the periods back on!" Jerrod Rodriguez said, the Flames best damn usher.
"Yah, Yah, I'll be there in a sec."
I like the Craig Conroy signing. Now let's get Dean Mcammond, and Shean Donovan, and starting going to work! Our vet'ness can be our competitive advantage.
Furthermore, I think Peter Loubardias should be fired.