Page 11 of Two Guys One Puck
“Why would that affect my play?”
“Because…” Happy’s eyes go wide. “You may want to be less physical.”
“Do you mean even more physical?” It’s a little sad to me he doesn’t understand my dedication, but I guess most guys think with their dicks.
“Even after…” He glances around. “You know!” He’s such an innocent little bean. I’m still not sure how he ended up as my best friend.
“Is called foreplay. Maybe you should try it. I’m sure the ladies would like you better.”
Happy’s mouth drops open.
I pat his cheek. “Is a real shock you are such a baby after spending three years on this team.”
“It’s honestly impressive none of us have corrupted him yet, especially you, K-pop,” our goalie, Dopey, chimes in.
“You failed geography, yes?” I ask, still not enjoying the nickname they’ve given me. I was hoping they’d get over it, but here we are at the playoffs, and it’s stuck.
“No one can say your name, and I have to call you something.” Dopey huffs.
I roll my eyes. “Use your imagination, please.”
“I don’t have one.”
Half the team turns to stare at Dopey.
“What?” he asks.
“Everyone has an imagination,” I say, not sure if this is a translation error.
Dopey shakes his head. “Nope. Can’t picture nothing in my head.”
“Nothing? Not a picture, sounds, or an inner monologue?”
Dopey thinks for a second. “Nope.”
“Close your eyes. You can’t picture a hockey puck?”
He closes his eyes for a long moment, then opens them and shrugs. “Nothing. People can’t really do that.”
“What do you think imagining is then?” I ask, a little scared of the answer.
“It’s a metaphor,” he says, self-assured.
“Is not.”
“So you’re telling me people can just see stuff in their heads?” Dopey narrows his eyes in disbelief.
“Yes.” I knew these types of people existed, but I wasn’t ready to be faced with one. “So what is it like in your head?”
“What do you mean, what is it like? I can’t just go hang out in there.”
Even Happy looks astonished. “So it’s just empty?”
“I guess so.” Dopey doesn’t at all seem bothered, while the rest of us are horrified.
“It’s just quiet? That can’t be real,” Happy asks.
“I turn it off sometimes,” Dopey says. “Other times, it’s just ticking along.”
