A figure enters the Blues locker room....
I am Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, your new senior drill instructor. I am your new mother. I am your new father. I am your whole goddamn world from now on.
If you ladies survive my training, if you go on to play again for the Blues, you will be a weapon. You will be a Minister of Death praying for war with another NHL team. But until that day, you are pukes. You are the lowest form of life on earth. You are not even human fucking beings! You are nothing but unorganized grabasstic pieces of amphibian shit!
Because I am hard, you will not like me, but the more you hate me, the more you will learn. I am hard, but I am fair.
There is no bigotry here. I do not look down on Frogs...
Wha?
...idiots...
Huzzah?
...pussies...
(Meep.)
...head cases...
Uh.. what?
...robots...
0010011010001.
...mutes...
that seems fair, I mean sometimes i might be somewhat.....
...or girls with frosted-tip hair.
That just happened naturally. It's not my fault the ladies love it.
You are all equally worthless in my eyes. My job here is to weed out all non-hackers who do not deserve to wear my beloved Note. Do you maggots understand that? What's your name, scumbag?
Paul. Paul Kariya, sir.
Paul? Paul Kariya? That sounds like royalty. Are you royalty, Paulie?
Royalty? Well, no. But you see, I am pretty good, so I do get treated a little...
Bullshit, Kariya! You look to me like the kind of little softie who deserves his own little chamber and his own little room and his own little man-servant! Kariya, the first time I see you take a hit to make a play this year will be the first time I have ever seen you take a hit to make a play! Be a man, boy!
You had best square your ass away and start making some goddamn plays or I will fuck you up! You're making $6 million a year and you're playing like Gary Suter is still looking to take your head off. It's a man's game! Start playing like you're one of them!
Is this you, John deWaynes? Is dis me?
Who said that? Who the fuck said that? Who's the communistic, twinkle-toes, Red Wing-wannabe pussy who just signed his own death warrant? Was it you?
Was dis who?
Well. No shit. What have we got here? A fucking comedian. Mister Joker. Hell, I like you. You can come over to my house and fuck my sister.
Oh, Really?
No! Not really! Listen here you little scumbag, I got your name, I got your ass! You will not laugh! You will not cry! You will learn by the numbers, I will teach you! You will become a killer! You will have no mercy! You will not take shifts off! You will become a top-line player!
You. What's your excuse?
Excuse for what?
Excuse for walking around here like you're Chuck fucking Norris and putting up miserable totals in the meantime. How tall are you, Invisible Giant?
Sir, six-foot-three, sir.
Six-foot-three? I didn't know they stacked shit that high. It looks to me like the best part of you ran down the crack of your momma's ass and wound up as a brown stain on the mattress! You're big and nasty and you should be the kind of guy out on the ice to fuck a goalie in the ass and not even show the common courtesy to give him a reach-around! Do you understand me?
I... uh... wait, what?
AAAHHHH! Time to be better, son! Time to be way, way better! You are a nightmare! You are a killer! Start being a fucking nightmare!
Listen up, all of you. You had best unfuck yourselves, or I will unscrew your heads and shit down your necks! Why did you sissies want to be hockey players?
To win?
To win.
You wanna win, I gotta see some sort of war face. Let me see your war face!
aaaaaahhhhhh?
Bullshit! I said, Let me see your war face!
aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhHHHHHHHH?
That's fucking terrible. Work on it.
(departs)
Holy shit, Walts. What the fucks was dis?
Are you kidding me, Frenchie? I'm the one who asked him to come here.