What Are We Doing with Our Pucks?
Candystriping and distributing to youngsters for Hallowe’en
Weighing down my pockets to ensure quick sinkage before leaping off bridge.
Wonderful new coaster for my tazo chai tea, so as not to leave rings on my foosball table.
Shoving it someplace you’d rather not hear and we’d rather not say, but you may imagine with an inappropriate reference to the sun, and anatomical locales which do not receive much sunlight.
Signing a sloppy, barely legible “Gretzky” on it with a Sharpie, splattering it with blood for effect, and listing it on eBay.
Secretly placing them between the hamburger buns of unsuspecting diner patrons.
Wrapping them exquisitely and giving them to a loved one. Remember, nothing says “I love you” like a black piece of hard rubber battered around a hockey rink by toothless Canadians.
Putting them in our shoes to give ourselves that extra inch of height.
Putting them in our pants to give ourselves that extra inch of girth, baby.