AAOOOSC! All-Stars!

The All-Star Media Day is underway. One of the convention center’s large rooms is filled with multiple, scattered tables with backdrops, all ordered according to teams and their divisions. Each table has its team’s All-Star representatives sitting behind it, wearing their All-Star jerseys.

Reporters buzz around the room, plucking up answers to their questions here and there. A reporter stands in front of the Toronto Maple Leafs’ station, where John Tavares and Auston Matthews sit.

“How have you guys gotten along since the beginning of the season?” the reporter speaks into his microphone. He then holds it out to John.

“Eminently well!” John exclaims. “I acclaim the sagacity from Matthews and his sedulousness to the sport. That is what merited my deference for him. I do my utmost to ameliorate him and inculcate him the lessons, not just in the sport of hockey, but also in life. He may be sagacious for his duration, but he is notwithstanding in the springtime of life.”

John then turns to Auston. So does the reporter.

Auston is immersed in his smartphone, his thumbs flying around the screen. He chuckles before peering up at the unamused face.

He gives him a serious look. “Yeah, it’s going good.” He then looks back at his phone and continues typing away.

“Thank you!” the reporter tells the two. He then whisks away.

John gives him a warm smile. “My pleasure!” He then turns to his teammate with a glare.

Auston continues tapping on his phone.

“Matthews, stow that piece of apparatus at a distance!”

“But Marnsy and I are having a—”

John’s hand swipes across his phone, snatching it out from his hands. Auston whirls his head to him, watching him toss the phone onto the other side of him.

John then interlaces his fingers on the table. “Now you can behave for once.” He then gazes ahead of him as another reporter approaches their table.

“Hello, Tavares, Matthews,” she begins into her microphone, “what are you looking forward to in this All-Star Weekend?” She holds it out to the older man.

John leans closer to it. “I await to encounter my fellow compatriots once again and engage in the sport alongside...the preponderance of them. Also, luxuriating in the Californian atmospheric conditions since it is quite preternatural.”

The two then turn to Auston. Auston is busy with another smartphone. John scowls at him.

Auston peers up at the reporter. “Having fun.” He then goes back on his phone.

The reporter gives the two warm smiles. “Thank you for your time.” She then ambles away.

John growls at Auston before snatching his phone and chucking it at his own feet. “How many mobile apparatuses do you possess?”

Auston keeps mischievous eyes on him as he slips his hand under the table. “...Guess…” He pulls out another smartphone, turns it on, and begins texting once again.

John frowns at him. “So you’re going to carry on with messaging? In the vanguard of the correspondents? Aren’t you conscious that’s not adequate social behaviours?!”

Auston keeps his attention on his phone. “It’s not ‘adequate social behaviours’ to leave a good friend waiting for the punchline of a joke.”

Suddenly, yellow energy strikes him, enveloping him in an explosion of bright light. His phone flips into the air and plunks onto the table as sparkles from the energy dwindle down over the empty chair.

A small, black-furred paw slips out from the edge of the table and grasps onto it. Then a slim, black American curl cat springs onto the table and gazes around. It lets out a crying meow.

With his eyes on the animal, John spins his cat gun in his hand. “There.” He slips the season under the table. “That should acquaint you with some enlightenment.”

The cat paws at the lit phone, accidentally sending a text in the process: eoighwgurhegrho;rwio;

He meows more in a growing panic. Then with a growl, he trots to the front of the table and hops off.

Auston’s phone receives a reply from Mitch Marner: LOL u got me laughing!!! best joke ever!!

John gasps at the front of the table and leans over. “Bloomin' heck—!”

A body then blocks his view, forcing him to gaze up at the person.

Standing in front of him is Patrik Laine, who holds a stick with a toothy grin. Patrik pulls out a leaf and begins speaking gibberish from it and to his stick. His speech ends with a question. He peers up; his face instantly drops.

John’s seat is empty.

Patrik makes a sad squeak and drops his arms. He shuffles away.

On the other side of the room, John tiptoes behind the cat, which is making its way through the crowd and to the double doors. Someone enters the room through the doors, allowing the cat to slip through its opening.

John bolts to the door and bursts into the warmly-lit hallway. He swishes his head to the left, where he spots the cat trotting down the carpet.

John creeps up behind it with wary hands out in front of him. “Matthews…! Matthews…!” he hisses at it. “Return to my locality!”

The cat hops into a faux plant to the left. John darts to the plant and rifles through its leaves. The cat springs out and dashes down the hallway.

John perks his head up as he watches the cat speed into the right bend. “No! Return!”

He rushes down the hallway, turns right, and follows the cat down the wide staircase leading out to the large lobby of the building.

The cat leaps down to the floor and speeds to the front doors.

John halts on the landing and throws his hands out at the doors.

Thick vines shoot out from the tile flooring and crisscross in front of the doors, blocking them from view.

The cat lets out a growl at the vines. He slashes his clawed paws at the thick stalk in front of him. John’s hands then grasp his body and pull him off his paws and into John’s arms. In retaliation, the cat thrashes its body with multiple meows and slashes.
John tightens his grip on the writhing cat and scratches its neck. “Alright, Matthews, compose yourself; I’ll remould you to yourself once you become cognizant of how to mind your ‘P’s and ‘Q’s.”

He then retraces his steps up the stairs, through the hallway, and back into the room.

John spots his empty station crowded with reporters. “Blinkin' knickers.”

The cat settles himself to growling with its clipped ears pinned back.

John whisks up to his station and slips through the surrounding crowd of reporters. “Oh, pardon me, I’m sorry, I just had to make usage of the facilities.”

John sits back down, patting the agitated cat in his arms.

Everyone stares at him and the animal with bewilderment.

“Where’s Auston Matthews?” one reporter asks into his microphone.

John makes a concerned look. “He...he is utilizing the facilities as well. I’m rueful that he won’t be hereabouts for an interval.”

The reporters turn to one another and mumble among themselves.

“But enquiries you possess for him are notwithstanding desirable,” John finishes off with a pressed smile.

Another reporter points to the cat in his arms. “Is that your cat?”
“Oh!” John peers down at the cat. “This—” He bobs the serious animal in his possession. “—this is from a companion of mine. He is called…” He gazes back at them. “‘...Cashews.’”

All the reporters let out a chorus of “awww”s. They then begin releasing questions about the cat:

“How old is Cashews?”

“What’s his favorite thing to do?”

"Has he gone on the ice?"

“Will he be apart of the All-Star?”

With an aura of victory, John answers them all for the rest of the event.


The End of “Cure to Boredom.”

Notes

Episode 5/15