AAOOOSC! Mini Stories!

On one fine day, Toews enters John's house with bags of groceries in his hand, since he just returned from buying food for John.
And there across the kitchen in the living room, he spotted John writing on a hand-held whiteboard, speaking gibberish while 40s music was flowing out from the old radio that seemed like it jumped out from a history book, casted to the the corner of the coffee table.
"I'm back!" Toews says with uncertainty in his voice, raising a bag-filled hand in the air.
John perks up and looks at the Blackhawk. "Ήρθες πίσω από--" He cleared his throat, shaking his head a bit. "You're back from doing the courses?"
Toews walks up to him. "What language were you speaking?" He grabs a bottle of almondade from one of the bags and hands it over to the Islander.
"Greek." John opens up the bottle. "Do you have a predicament about that? It's more facile to do quantum physics in Greek." He takes a sip of the sweet liquid. "Ah, just what I necessitated after a hard day's work of actualizing new formulas to apply physics to metrology!" He flashes a smile at Toews.
"Is that what you've been doing this whole day?"
"Yes."
"Since you got up?"
"Well, posterior to cleaning myself up, dressing up, and eating breakfast and becoming updated with news in Warsaw, yea."
"Is that all you do when you don't have a game or practice?"
"Of course."
"Does it ever get boring though?"
"No. There are neoteric ascertainments in life everyday kid, even if you do the same affair every single day."
"Errr...but, do you ever wonder when you're actually going to...let's say start looking for...your future wife?"
John's eyes widened. "Excuse me, what did you utter?"
"Are-are you ever gonna date?" Toews continues on. "'Cause I mean, you've been here at home all day and you only go out when there're practices and games; don't you ever want to share your life with someone you love?"
"One--" John puts his pointer finger up in the air: "--I conjointly go out of my house when there are meet and greets and charity events. And two--" He adds his middle finger. "--I do not intend to share my life with a person who will just nag me, thank you very much." He drops his hand and goes back to his work.
Toews blinks for a moment. "Nag you? You're saying that girls will nag you?"
"Yea, that's all they bring out!" John throws his arms in the air, facing the Blackhawk. "They oblige you to do this, they oblige you to do that--I don't wanna live like that! I was brought up with two sisters and that's enough feminism for me, smalls! I am a free man, and I wanna stay a free man. I don't need no woman to run my life."
"But...not all women are like that. Especially the ones you love--"
"I have never fallen in love with anyone before," John cuts in gravely.
"What?" Toews gawks at him. "Not even at school...?"
He shook his head.
"Oh man, John, you gotta love someone! It's like the best feeling ever! You get the butterflies, you can't stop thinking about her, you can't tear your eyes off of her..."
"That strikes as being a whole lot like mind control to me. Good undertake, attempting to get me to fancy someone, kid, but you can't initiate me. I wanna live like this until the day I relinquish life."
"Well, that's fun," the younger captain replies sarcastically.
"That's what you envisage, smalls."
"But one day you'll fall in love with someone... One day..." Toews drops the bags and walks away gracefully to his bedroom.
"Nuh-uh-uh, that won't betide..." John groans and goes back to his work.

The next day in the afternoon, John is at the Nassau Coliseum because there is a meet and greet.
All the Islander players are wearing their jerseys, sitting behind a long table, signing merchandise and talking to fans.
"Cal, why ya have a bunch of keys tied to your Sharpieh?" Kyle Okposo, right wing and alternative captain of the Islanders, asks Cal Clutterbuck, another right wing of the Islanders.
Cal is busy shaking his Sharpie that had many keys tied up to the top of the marker; the keys were clattering against each other, making a bit of a racket. "Cluuuuuutterbuck!" he sings to the clanging. "Clutterbuck, Clutterbuck, Cluuuuuterbuck!"
John, who is also next to Cal, shakes his head. "He necessitates becoming versed on how to cease contriving such cacophony while reciting his surname innumerable times," he mutters full of irritation.
"He does it all the time, man!" Kyle adds in with a groan
Someone places an Islanders home jersey in front of John.
"With anything he can get practically dominion over." John lightly slaps the top of Cal's head with the jersey. "Comport yourself, Cal."
Cal stops shaking the keys and singing; he looks around in confusion. "Awwwwww...?" He looks at the keys tied to the Sharpie and continues shaking them wildly. "Clutterbuuuuuck!"
"That's what you get obtaining a skater from the Wild." John rolls his eyes and grabs his Sharpie marker from the table top.
Kyle just bangs his head on the table multiple times.
"Sorry, about all the cacophony practically reverberating around here," John tells the owner of the jersey while looking at the jersey and signing it. "It's just that--"
"Tu." Jaroslav Halák, the goalie of the Islanders, places a team picture in front of John's sight. "Dajte si autogram tu." He shakes the picture in front of him. (Here. Put your autograph here.)
"Ugh." John snatches the picture from the Slovak's grasp and signs the picture; he then hands it to Cal, still with his eyes on the jersey. John continues talking to the fan. "Well, yes, I am awfully compunctious about all the cacophony and nuisance and whatnot here--" He caps the marker while placing it back on the table top and lifts the jersey to the air while folding it nicely. "--but I am glad you arrived here and invested in a jersey of mine." He smiles and puts the jersey down, out from the vision so that he can hand it over to its owner. "I highly appreciate it..." His voice fades away when he sees the owner of the jersey.
It was lady that is the same age as him with light brown hair up in a ponytail and big, green eyes. She was wearing a woman's cut T-shirt with the Islanders' symbol and the C on her left side; she looks like she is trying to contain her excitement, like what any other fan would.
"Oh wow..." John drops the jersey back on the table and clears his throat, trying to control the weird feeling he's starting to get. "I am John--John Tavares." He holds his hand out at her. "Captain of the Islanders."
The lady giggles. "I already cognize that."
"Oh right! Hehe..." He chuckles while running his sweaty finger through his short, brown hair. He then props his elbows on the table, letting his fists hold up his face.
"I'm Autumn," she told him with a small smile. "I'm a big votary of you!"
"I am likewise..." the Islander murmurs under his breath with a dreamy look on his face. His consciousness then kicks in; he straightens up quickly. "Um, what, what-- Your vocabulary...it's very proficient."
"Oh yea..." She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "I love English and I just attained an enhanced voacb. It's nifty, but it's not when no one can comprehend what you're orating."
"Tantamount!" John's eyes widen, placing his hands flat on the table top. "I befriended an individual who has no inkling what I address to him all the time! It's so vexing when you have to elapse back to primary school vocabulary!"
"OMG, amen to that!" Autumn high fives the captain. "And when they demand you to communicate in 'English,' you presume, I'm already orating in English unless I'm orating a distinct language that I'm oblivious of--'"
"That betides to me all the time!" John extends his arms in the air. "What languages do you fathom?"
"French."
"Same."
"German."
"Same ."
"Latin."
"Same."
"Greek."
"Same."
"Chinese."
"Japanese."
"Ukrainian."
"Russian."
"Hindi."
"Polish."
"Czech."
"Dutch."
"Spanish."
"Same."
"Esto es todo," Autumn told him with a big smile. (That's all)
"Lo mismo," John replies to her. He leans back on his folding chair, looking at the lady with inquiring eyes. "I have never reconciled a woman that obtains as much discernment as me. Wait--" He sits up again. "Favourite subject?" (Same here)
"English."
"Barring that."
"Chemistry."
"Physics."
"AP Calculus BC."
"AP Statistics."
"Orthoepy."
John raises his eyebrows.
"Ethnomethodology."
He shakes his head.
"Diplomatics."
"That must've been eminently arduous."
"Psychology."
"Now that...is exceptionally keen." John points at her. "Y'know what? Why don't you telephone me?" He picks up his marker and writes his phone number on the tag that is on the inside of the jersey. He holds the jersey out in front of her. "Now you are cognizant not to bequeath my number to anyone else, right?"
"Of course. I don't fancy being on the amiss side of your list." She takes the jersey and slips it over her. "Thank you so much, Tavares!"
"Address me as John." The Islander gives her a smile. "And telephone me anytime you desire."
"Okay, I incline to. See you soon." She then walks away briskly.
John leans forward, looking over to his right as he watched Autumn disappear while his last name and number on the back of her jersey grew smaller and smaller. "I can't believe this..."
"Youuuuuuuu-ooooo-ooooo! Are hooked on a feeling!" Cal shakes his keys to a beat. "You're high on believin'! That your in love with her! HOOKED ON A FEELING--!!!"
John just snatches the keys from the right wing and throws them on the table. "Shush!"

"And that was how we accosted." John smiles proudly.
Most of the power players except for the EHP and most of the other neutral players are sitting in the restaurant of Papa Crosby's. Each other the players there are with their sweethearts, eating pizza and ice cream together. This is like their small Valentine's Day party.
"See, I told you you'd--"
John extends his hand out towards Toews's face. "He never divulged me a thing.
"Well, that's a lovely story there," Jonna Niemi, Antti's wife, told the couple. "Who would've known that a fan and a player will get together and fall in love with each."
"Well, anything can happen with love," Caroline Hiller, Jonas's wife, tells her. She eats a couple of chips from Jonas's chip bag.
"That is very true." Jaclyn Quick, Jonathan's wife, looks at her husband. "Right, Jonny?"
"Yes...yes..." Jonathan nods his head.
"Like Bubby and Bubby Jr. are happy because I love them!" Sidney exclaims, raising his two stuffed gorillas, one big and one tiny, in the air.
"That's one way to say it," Nathan says. He then eyes his left side, where Jonathan Bernier was with his wife, Martine, are trying to unstick their hands from each other since they were covered with maple syrup.
"I take it those, um, stuffed animals are your sweethearts then," Jonna tells the Penguin.
"Yup! Because I love them verrrrry much! And they make me happy! And when I'm happy, we can all be happy, and happy, and happy, and happy, and happy, and happy..."
"Oh no..." Antti makes a horrified look. "Okay, Sidney thank you, thank you, that is enough." He pats the captain's head.
Sidney stops talking and takes a bite of his pizza with a big smile.
"Oh...aren't you our opponent for tonight's match?" Autumn points across the table to Sergei Bobrovsky, goalie of the Columbus Blue Jackets, who is eating his pizza with his wife, Olga.
Sergei looks up with a confused look at John's girlfriend, then gazes at his wife with that same look, then back at Autumn. "Bob?"
"He doesn't know much English," Olga tells her, shaking her head. She then turns to her husband. "Они играют против вас сегодня--Oстровитян." (They're playing against you today--the Islanders.)
"Oooo..." Sergei narrows his gaze at John and Autumn. "Bob," he says gravely.
"Uh-oh, I hearkened making a Russian agitated is not a good idea...!" Autumn notifies her love.
"What happens on the ice, stays on the ice." John rolls up his sleeves. "Don't fret, I'll be safe and sound." He faces the Russian goalie. "Besides, aren't you on IR?"
"Bob?" Sergei looks down at himself then back up. "Bob..." He narrows his eyes and points at the Islanders' captain. "Bob," he tells him in his menacing tone.
"Ugh..." Olga slips her hands onto her face. "If he only he knew English..."
"So, Kane, Toews," Jonna turns to her right, facing the two Blackhawks. "Who are your sweethearts here for this outing?"
"Us!" Toews exclaims.
Patrick eyes his friend weirdly.
"No, no, oh no!" Toews shakes his hands in the air frantically. "I-I didn't mean it that way, I meant, we're just friends, yea, only friends, right, right Peeks--Kaner--Patrick?" Toews looks at his blond friend.
Patrick is leaning on the side of the table, slurping on soda; he places his cup on the table. "Yea, just friends, man. Just hockey buddies, dude." He places his hand on his team's captain.
"Yea, we're just friends, friends we are, only friends...friends...just friends. Friendly love, that's all."

Happy Valentine's Day!

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