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Rated: E · Short Story · Children's · #1942598
First fictional story I ever wrote. Poorly written, dream ending, insensitive? but funny.
Benjamin Bartholomew Barstow was finishing up his third hotdog when the Maple Leafs pulled their goalie in a desperate attempt to tie up the game before time ran out. It was futile as usual as the other team managed to put in two empty netters before the buzzer. Oh well at least his belly was full.

Holding Dad’s hand as they headed for the exit. Benjamin looked up at the Stanley Cup banners hanging from the roof. His favorite hadn’t won one of those in a very long time. The last time was sometime before he was born. It didn’t look like they were going to win another one this year either. He knew though that someday it would happen. It had to. He slurped up the last of his extra large root beer and stuffed the cup into a garbage can just before going out the door into the cold night air.

At home Mom took one look and knew exactly how it went. “The home team lost and Benjamin stuffed his face through the whole miserable thing. You’re going to grow fat as a pig little boy,” she laughed and Benjamin knew she was teasing him. “It’s bed time and if you don’t go to sleep you won’t have a chance to enjoy the rest of the holiday.”

That night while Benjamin lay sleeping something unbelievable happened. He could feel himself getting fatter and fatter. He could hear his bed creaking under the strain as he grew.

In the morning Benjamin had a little bit of difficulty squeezing through the door of his bedroom to go downstairs for breakfast. His mother didn’t seem at all surprised. In fact she didn’t even seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. They were planning to go shopping at the mall. His dad had to open the back door of the family minivan because Benjamin was too big to fit through any of the other doors.

At the mall Benjamin was relieved when his Dad came around the back to let him out. It was really uncomfortable lying in the back of the van. He rolled out and then waddled along with his parents to the front entrance to the mall.

Up until then Benjamin’s day had been running along pretty smoothly. When he was going through the double doors at the mall though he got stuck. He tried to force his way through but he only got more stuck. He tried to back out but that wouldn’t work either. To make things worse a couple of the guys from school cam along just then and started laughing at him. “Way to go Barstow.” He felt his face turn red. He was stuck there for what seemed like a very long time and there was quite a crowd snickering at him before a couple of the janitors with some help from a security guard and his Dad managed to push him inside. One of the janitors told him that they would let him out the service entrance when his family was done to shop. They had a garage door there.

Just before moving on to shop a man Benjamin had never seen before approached him and his father.

“Good afternoon,” the man said, “My name is Stanley Tankard. I’m an assistant coach with the Toronto Maple Leafs. I would like to invite you and your son here to the Leaf’s practice this evening.”

Dad didn’t know quite what to say but he didn’t think it was a bad idea so they agreed to come.

“Make sure your son there remembers to bring his skates. I intend for him to join the team on the ice. I’ll bring along a box of doughnuts in case he starts running out of energy.”

Benjamin could hardly wait and the rest of the day seemed to go by like a blur. When he and his Dad arrived they were brought down to the dressing room where Benjamin put on his skates and one of the trainers helped him get on proper goalie pads and helmet. They were going to put him in goal. Good thing to because Benjamin wasn’t a good skater even before he started getting bigger. Now he had so much difficulty skating they had to push him into position with the Zamboni.

As Mr. Tankard and the other coaches started tucking him into the goal he realized why they wanted him to try out for the team. Benjamin’s tremendous body completely plugged the front of the goal. There was no room for the puck to get past him.

He was peppered with shots all practice long. Some of them hurt a little but Benjamin was happy. Not one goal was scored against him all evening and by the time practice was over it was obvious that the Toronto Maple Leafs had reached a monumental turning point in the season. After practice Benjamin was offered a generous contract and his Dad acting as his agent helped him to sign it. Benjamin was a glow as he munched on the doughnuts on the way home from Maple Leaf Gardens.

Benjamin got his first start eight games before the end of the season. As the Zamboni pushed him into position some of the people in the crowd started to make fun of him. He saw some of his friends from school laughing and calling out, “Way to go Barstow. Now we know the team is in trouble.” They didn’t laugh very far into the game though. Barstow the goalie was an impenetrable wall. The Leafs only scored two goals but that was more than enough. By the time buzzer sounded the crowd was chanting, “Barstow! Barstow! Barstow!”

After the buzzer sounded the crowd went crazy. The whole team jumped onto the ice and took turns knocking their helmets against his. Then as a team they each wedged their sticks between Benjamin, the goal posts and crossbar. On the count of three they levered the goal off his back. Tankard was there too and congratulated him as he handed him another box of doughnuts. Benjamin couldn’t think of another time when he was happier.

Benjamin got to start every game after that for the rest of the season. Eight straight shutout wins and Toronto easily made the playoffs. He was the talk of the town. Everywhere he went people recognized him and shouted things like, “Way to go Barstow” only in a tone of voice that made him feel good.

His teammates gave him the nickname doughnut and they talked the coach into putting Tim Horton’s old jersey number on Benjamin’s uniform. It was partly because after each game Tankard always brought him a box and partly because that’s what the other team’s score always looked like and the end of the game.

Benjamin enjoyed watching the TV between periods especially when they started talking about him.

“So Don what do you think of this new kid the Leafs have between the pipes.”

“Barstow! Great player. Tough as nails. I saw him the other day take a McGinest slapper off the coconut. Hardest slapshot in the league. Didn’t faze the kid one bit stayed in goal for the rest of the game.”

Benjamin remember that shot. Boy did it ever hurt. For some reason he couldn’t remember anything that happened in the game after that.

He watched his team captain get interviewed during the second intermission.

“So Wendell what has Barstow brought to this team besides great goal tending.”

“Well Ron, doughnut is one of the best things that has ever happened to this team. He’s a leader. One of those guys who leads by example. He loves the game, never complains.  Something about him draws this team together like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

In the playoffs the doughnut just kept rolling along. When the horn sounded after the first game on home ice. One of the fans threw a couple of doughnuts onto the ice. At the end of the second home game a few more fans joined in throwing doughnuts. After that every home game all the way to the final game ended in an avalanche of doughnuts.

Game four of the Stanley Cup final was in Toronto. Toronto was leading the series three games to none. Maple Leaf Gardens was rockin’. Even though Benjamin was on the hottest shutout streak in the history of the sport he felt nervous. The crowd went absolutely berserk when they announced his name and the Zamboni slowly pushed him over to the goal. He knew what he had to do and thankfully over the last few months of play, which seemed to pass so quickly he hadn’t lost an ounce. As the other players helped to tuck him into the goalmouth he knew through his nervousness that there was going to be another banner on the ceiling up above him.

For two periods the Montreal Canadiens threw everything they had at him to no avail. Then early in the third period there was an ugly scramble in front of the Montreal net. It was a mass of flailing arms legs and hockey sticks. Nobody really knows who touched the puck last but it didn’t really matter. What did matter was that the puck ended up in the Montreal net. It was as good as over. The final minutes ticked away. The crowd chanted, Barstow, Barstow, Barstow… The closer they got to the end of the game the louder they chanted. Then the horn sounded. His teammates rushed him. The next thing he knew they were putting the Stanley Cup in his hands. He held it over his head as the Zamboni pushed him around the ice. Everyone was one their feet cheering so loud it hurt his ears. He was smiling so hard his face hurt but he felt great. He never remembered feeling this good in his whole life.

When he completed his victory lap, he gave the cup over to one of his teammates and made his way off the ice. Then something horrible happened. There was an old nail sticking out of the boards and it caught on the back of his pants. He felt the cloth tear and then oh ouch he felt his skin tear. There was a sudden hiss of air and it grew into a roar like the sound of a jet. Benjamin spun around in a circle and then suddenly shot straight up like a rocket. Right through the roof of Maple Leaf Gardens. He arched across Toronto’s night sky and finally fell through the roof of a small house in the suburbs. Splinters of wood, plaster, shingles from the roof and dust showered down on top of him. Then everything was silent. It was silent for what seemed like a very long time. Then Benjamin realized he had shrunk. In fact he was about the same size as he used to be. He could hear voices calling through the debris. It was his Mom calling him. The he realized that the debris wasn’t debris laying on top of him after all. It was just his blankets.

Benjamin couldn’t believe that it was all just a dream. It was all right though because Mom was calling him for breakfast and for his hockey team he knew what he had to do. EAT!
© Copyright 2013 Pico ヨハネス (picodoll at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1942598