The following is purely fictional and meant for entertainment purposes only. By entertainment, we mean we hope you laugh while reading this, while framing this, or while burning this. Any similarities between this and actual events is strictly coincidental and frankly, dumb luck. Remember to remind your lawyer about the made-up part, OK?
Lou Lamoriello is actually quite nervous. Despite his public persona as a steely-eyed, confident leader, there are some things Â– certain tasks Â– that still have the ability to rattle him. Firing an employee is one of them.
He is staring at a full length mirror, half-sitting on his desk, one leg dangling confidently. The office door is locked and there is no one in the room besides him and that uncanny likeness in the mirror. There is a stern look on his face as leans forward, speaking slowly, pacing his words. It's obvious this is a practice run.
Â“Look, this is never easy,Â” he says, examining the candor of his words. He's already lying because, in fact, it is easy if only because he has done this so often before. Lou is already losing focus.
The staid look returns.
Â“We know you've been stealing office supplies and staplers aren't cheap,Â” he says. But dissatisfied with this attempt, he tries another ploy.
Â“You, of course, are aware this is a drug-free workplace and it has come to my attention that you may have a serious addiction to Junior Mints.Â”
That one seems rather silly. His look now turns from stern to downright vicious.
Â“Gambling will not be tolerated here, mister, and I hear you have thing for Bingo,Â” he says, while wagging his finger in the general direction of the mirror.
Â“OK, the thing is Â– honestly this time Â– while wearing women's underwear isn't technically a violation of any sort of team bylaw, it does kind of give the janitors around here the creeps.Â”
He tries another ploy.
Â“You stink. Seriously man, have you ever heard of soap?Â”
Â“OKÂ” he says while sizing up the mirror. He has something good this time. He pauses in anticipation of dropping this verbal sortie.
Â“All right, straight out, we have documents linking you to the Taliban. I won't divulge it here and now, but I will tell you that the FBI has been notified.Â”
Lou seems a little disappointed with that particular one. His bottom lip puffs, annoyed. He crosses his arms. He's quieter this time and seems a little surer of himself.
Â“LookÂ” he says, re-acquainting himself with the mirror, Â“the NHL has this weird policy that only allows so many bald guys to run an organization.Â” His eyes bug out and he flashes that who comes up with this stuff look, but remains unconvinced.
He removes himself from the desk and is now standing just inches from the mirror, so close his fresh lasagna breath fogs it up. He rests his arms lazily over the mirror's top. He's the playground quarterback whispering instructions for a Hail Mary to his favorite playground receiver.
Â“We've won the Stanley Cup three times and I have yetÂ…Â” he says as his anger, ever so slightly, heightens. Â“I have yet to get my name on that piece of hardware and if you think I'm going to sit idly by and watch some new guy come inÂ…Â”, his anger is surely building now, Â“...come in and deny me my right once again, you are sadly mistaken, mister.Â”
His eyes are locked on his other set of eyes. He is definitely not smiling. He backs away from the mirror, each step turning his scowl into something this time, more resembling a smile. He starts to laugh, a quiet giggle and blows himself a faint kiss. The smile is now a grin.
The index finger on his right hand confidently finds the intercom button on his phone. He leans in.
Â“Mary, can you send coach, umm.. Mr. Julien in now please?Â” he orders, not waiting for an answer.
Â“Oh, and Mary, one more thing,Â” he says, while pausing for full effect, Â“get the FBI on Line 2.Â”
Charlie Teljeur, creator of THN's hockeysockpuppettheatre, brings you Loose Change every Tuesday and Friday only on thehockeynews.com.
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