A Handsgate Exclusive, Part III: One Squeeze For Luck, One Squeeze For Control, & One Quest For Line-mates

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A Handsgate Exclusive is my next blog-series which will tell an entirely fictitious story loosely inspired by the buttocks-grabbing controversy, AKA “Handsgate.” MAKE SURE YOU READ PART I and PART II FIRST if you haven’t! Here is part III. Also be sure to read part I‘s full disclaimer about how the events, dialogue, police officers, and personalities portrayed in this story are entirely fictional and not real, and not intended to represent the real personalities, interests, or beliefs of any real people. This is only intended as humor!

In part I, Claud Gireaux went to his local police station to report to Officer Cillian Hemigeht his fear that the Flyers were colluding with other NHL teams by trading all his best wingers away, but then he almost got sent to Guantanamo for using the word “conspiracy.” Then Dany Heatly showed up, and Gireaux eventually helped him sign a contract with the Anaheim Ducks, only to be shown no gratitude by Heatly who walked out. Captain Wilson also showed up and brought his abrasive personality to the conversation. In part II, Gireaux got arrested for “discrimination” over the Handsgate incident, but then an old rival of his came to rescue him, and they’d just left the precinct. Now we begin part III

Kaine led Gireaux to his getaway car without much resistance, since all the other cops were out eating donuts and looking for the imaginary kegger. Kaine put his stick away in the trunk, then entered the passenger seat of the car. Gireaux was right behind, only to hear a familiar voice as he was about to open the door to the backseat.

“You got him bud?”

“Yeah. Told you my plan would work!”

“You call that a plan? We could have been killed! This is why preparation is so important, physical and mental! How many times do I have to tell you that?”

“Sorry Cears… You know I had to get him out though, one way or another.”

“I know,” sighed Cereal.

Claud Gireaux: “Teows, is that you?”

John Teows: “Yeah, it’s me. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Claud Gireaux: “Maybe you can explain all this to me? It’s been one f***ing crazy day.”

John Teows: “Not my problem, pal. I got championships to win. Now get in. Let’s drive. You’re taking my training time.” Teows turned the keys in the ignition, changed gears, and turned on the radio.

“… And you can submit that twitter vote within the next 60 days with the hash-tag #sh*ttyshinny and either #ShinsyMcguisey or #ShinsyOlchequii as your winner, and then we’ll find out as the two are scheduled to face off at Wrigley Field over three periods of one-on-one shinny. Should be a great time–oh I can’t wait for that–exactly right Torts …”

Gireaux frowned as he entered the car. “Kaine, you explain then. What’s Teows doing here?”

Teows’ face turned stern, as he aimed a concerned, sideways look at Kaine. Kaine looked back nervous.

Patrick Kaine: “Err, I’d prefer you not call me Kaine anymore, please, if that’s OK. It’s Patrick Matúre now…”

John Teows: “Kind of pronounced like Coutoure, but mature.. Matoúre, maybe. Still have to decide on the spelling…”

Patrick Matoúre: “Yeah. Just like he said. I’m having it changed officially as soon as we get back. Johnny’s already signed the consent forms. Normally he says that I can be whimsical and impulsive sometimes, so when I want something, he makes me wait a month, and then if I still want to do it after a month, he lets me do it. But this time he’s all for it. It was almost his idea, actually… I mean, we both think it will be good, you know, to put the past in the past?”

“Uh huh.” Said Gireaux.

“It’s true,” Teows nodded in the rearview mirror as they began to drive. “He used to just do things, not even think. No planning. No preparation. But the past is the past, and I think this new name can be a real turning point. He really is a good kid, Claud…”

Patrick Matoúre: “I am. I really am… And you know what, people like me…”

John Teows: “… Just needs a steady hand, that’s all. Isn’t that right buddy?” Teows reached over and scruffled Matoure’s short hair, although it looked like you could still see, very faintly, the shadow of the mullet that had been there before.

Gireaux was starting to get the feeling he didn’t need to ask why Teows was here anymore. “So he’s here to… help you, err, Patrick?”

“Sure am!” Yelled Teows over the hum of traffic and the radio. “Can’t leave this one alone for a minute! But once you get that new name, all that’s going to change, isn’t it Patty?”

Patrick Matoúre: “Yeah! … I think …”

Teows nodded, his face swelling with approval. "Thinking's good, Patty. Thinking's very good. Preparation, isn't that right?"

"Preparation…" Kaine mumbled, his eyes wandering out the window as they passed a local nightclub. "I mean yeah! Preparation!" He said, regaining focus.

John Teows: “That’s what I like to hear. He’s come so far, Claud. He really has.”

Kaine: “I have. I really have. And you know what? People like–”

John Teows: “–Okay we f***ing get it! Just keep your focus and you’ll be fine.”

Kaine leaned back from the passenger seat and whispered to Gireaux. “They do though. They really do.”

I am Jack’s duck and roll.

Radio: “… I’ve been losing sleep the last few nights waiting, it’s a travesty, honestly. The NFL got theirs, when will we get ours? If it doesn’t happen before next season, I don’t think I’ll even watch the NHL anymore. There’s really not that much left to the sport without …

John Teows: “It’s just really important that we don’t take a step backwards, ain’t that right bud?”

Matoúre nodded his head enthusiastically. “The only time I go backwards anymore is when the opposing blue line is too crowded and I turn the puck back to create more space bringing it back in. To help my team. Right Cereal?”

John Teows: “That’s right, bud, as long as you pass it to me when I’m open. You got it. Don’t want to take a step back, that’s for sure. Now Claud, this started as just Patrick wanting to make amends with you as one of the… things he has to do, but from what you’re telling us, it sounds like maybe something else is going on. I’ve got championships to win but if a fellow NHLPA member is in trouble, I’m all ears.”

Gireaux shook his head, showing his bewilderment. “All I know, at least I think I know, is that something weird is going on. All I really have is a code.”

“Oh yeah?” Said Teows. “Well what is it?”

“6-7-6-7,” said Gireaux. “I’m not sure what it is.”

Patrick Matoúre: “Could be the total number of goals I’ll score in my career, although I’m definitely aiming higher. Either that or an area code.”

Teows shook his head. “It’s clearly an address, Patty. Preparation, right?”

“Right….”

“Want to check it out then, Claud?” Said Teows.

Claud Gireaux: “I think we have to.”

John Teows: “Let’s go!”

Patrick Kaine: “Yay! I love adventures!”

“Just don’t lose focus. Never lose focus.”

And with that, they were off.

The address was on the outskirts of Philadelphia, in a rough part of town where you were more likely to find sisterly love than brotherly love, and the brotherly love you did find wasn’t the kind that Philadelphia is known for, either. It took Teows almost an hour to get there, and another half hour just to find the address. “This is the difference between champions and your team, Claud,” Teows said multiple times on the way. But finally they reached their destination. The house was the smallest one in the entire neighborhood, a block away from a small creek. Teows, Matoúre, and Gireaux got out of the car, only to see that brown bars were painted on the doors and windows to make them look like jail cell doors. Kaine hesitated.

“Do we really want to go in there?”

Teows laughed. “Don’t worry, you guys are safe with me. The light shines upon me. It will protect you as long as you stay close.” Teows walked up to the front door and knocked.

Gireaux’s face had become frozen in confusion, like a plasma TV that’s left with the same image paused on it too long. He turned to Kaine.

“What the f*** does that mean?” He said. Kaine raised his eyebrows.

“No idea, but trust me, it’s true,” he said, walking up to the door as Gireaux followed.

The three of them waited for someone to answer. And then he opened the door.

“Officer Hemigeht!” Claud and Patrick said in unison. Hemigeht was standing in the doorway in new clothes, with no trace of his police uniform. “What are you doing here?”

Officer Hemigeht: “Please, call me Cillian. Come in! Come in!”

The trio entered. Hemigeht looked surprised and pensive as he eyed Teows and Kaine.

“He’s here!” Hemigeht yelled through the wall to another room as they reached the main room at the front of the house. “And he brought two guests! Very … interesting … guests. Bring them some tea, will you?”

“Who’s that?” Gireaux asked.

Hemigeht ignored the question. “Come,” he motioned. “Take a seat on the couch here.” And they did. “I didn’t know you were going to bring guests, Claud. But then again I didn’t know you’d get yourself locked up and in need of rescuing. Sorry, by the way, that I wasn’t able to stop that. It was out of my control… But that’s why we’re here… to slowly start putting an end to that….”

Gireaux, Teows, and Matoúre all glanced at each other. Gireaux and Kaine were uneasy, but Teows looked unfazed.

“What do you mean?” Asked Teows.

“The tea!” Hemigeht exclaimed, as someone’s footsteps could be heard nearing. “There it is!”

Patrick Matoúre: “Actually, do you have hot chocolate?”

Focus.

“… Sorry …”

And that’s when he entered carrying the tea. Gireaux sprung up from his seat.

“Harty! It’s so good to see you!”

Scott Hartnel: “You too, ace!”

Claud Gireaux: “But what are you doing here?”

“I think it’s better if… I explains,” Hartnel said, glancing at Hemigeht. More footsteps could be heard coming from the adjacent room, but Hemigeht made it a point to keep everyone’s attention away from them.

“You’re right, me,” said Hemigeht, reaching for a piece of paper and a pen. “Here Claud,” he said. “Take this.”

Now even Teows looked confused. He was glancing around the room looking for windows, making sure the light still had a clear shot at him, but there were none.

Claud Gireaux: “Why?”

“I want you to write my name, Claud.”

“Uh, okay,” said Gireaux as he started to write.

Hemigeht: “That’s C-I-L-L-I-A-N H-E-M-I-G-E-H-T.”

Claud Gireaux: “Yeah somehow I think everyone already knows how to spell it.”

Hemigeht: “Now look at the words before you, and tell me what you see.”

At this point, Matoúre reached out to squeeze Toew’s hand, and wouldn’t let go. “Now I’m not sure I’ll ever get hot chocolate again!” He whispered.

Gireaux stared at the words. Cillian Hemigeht. At first, he couldn’t see it.

“Look closer,” said Hemigeht. Gireaux stared at the page longer, but still nothing.

Then he saw it.

Cillian Hemigeht.

HeMI. Co. AE. LL. hEmI. GHT.

Michael. Leighten.

Claud Gireaux: “Michael Leighten! It’s you!”

“Sweet!” Said Matoúre and Teows in unison.

Claud Gireaux: “But what are you doing here? Why were you in the police station? Why couldn’t I recognize you? You look so different! I mean I kind of do now, but…”

“We are everywhere,” said Hartnel. “Tell him, me.”

“It is poetic you should bring them here with you, Claud,” Said Hemigeht, aka Michael Leighten, glancing at Teows and Kaine. “But maybe it is meant to be this way. You see that night when Patrick scored through my five-hole, I felt something shift inside me. I felt a new hole. At first, I didn’t know what to make of it, but like many involved with hockey with holes to fill who lack natural ability, I looked to numbers to compensate, to give me answers. And what I found was that there is no such thing as clutch. No such thing as choking. No such thing as control, at least not in the small sample size of an NHL playoff series. Every game is filled with thousands of events. And unless you can control every one, which no single player can do, you can become a victim.”

Gireaux’s eyebrows raised. “A victim of what?”

“Of random chance. Of luck. Of indiscriminate factors affecting your life permanently.”

Claud Gireaux: “Oh. Like what Woody Allen movies are about.”

Michael Leighten: “Uh… being a hockey player, I only really watch Entourage, but yeah, sure, probably. The point is, they like to say the bounces always even out, but they don’t, not in hockey, and certainly not in life.”

Patrick Matoúre: “I love Entourage!”

Michael Leighen: “Yeah.”

Patrick Matoúre: “But what are you saying then? And why don’t I have a hot chocolate yet?”

Michael Leighten: “Ever since that night when you, Patrick, scored that freak goal on me in overtime to win the Stanley Cup Final, I have sought to make up for where I could not be that night, what holes in the net I couldn’t fill. That is why you see bars painted on this door. That is why this house is so small, with no windows, although yes, cost plays a part, too. But the smaller the area, and the less that can get in, the more you can fill it, the more you can control it. Ever since that night, I have sought to be everywhere, to control every event I could, through jobs like the police, through other vessels like the one you formally knew as Scott Hartnel. Tell him, me.”

Scott Hartnel: “For years I had to listen to trade rumors about me, and for years people questioned my influence in the locker room. Everyone knows us hockey players make money, but what they don’t realize is how little control we have: what line we play on, how well our teammates play, our coach, where we get shipped. I lost sleep over all the these things. Many, many nights. When it finally happened and I got shipped to Ohio, I’d had enough. Me found me, and ever since then we’ve worked together as one. This season I will become the first piece in controlling Ohio, and we brought you here hoping you would join as well, in Philadelphia. And soon, every player, so that we can control every event on the ice, and control every outcome. Like Fifa.”

Gireaux and Teows were speechless. Matoúre, not so much.

“So you’ve all got super powers where you can control every hockey game, but you can’t even get me a f***ing hot chocolate, is that it?”

Everyone else just ignored him. Gireaux looked back to Leighten.

“But why’d you talk bad about Hartnel at the police station?”

Michael Leighten: “We wanted to test your loyalty. To see if you were true to your comrades. To test you in various situations. And you passed.”

Claud Gireaux: “So you really think you can control the NHL?”

“It’s not just the NHL,” Leighten said. “Everything. Why leave life to chance? To random variance? We believe we have a better way. Instead of being controlled by a random sample, we’ve decided to become the sample. That way, it can no longer be random. But we need more members! That’s why we’ve been branching out. You can come in now!” He yelled to the other room. That’s when James Van Der Beak, Kristin Stewert, Logun Coutoure, and Mike Richard appeared.

Patrick Matoúre: “OH MY GOD! WHADDUP BEEEEEEEEEEEEAK???”

Michael Leighten: “We are all Beak now. And we are all Leighten. And Hartnel, Stewert, Coutoure, and Richard.”

Patrick shook his head. “No no, there’s only one Beak! WHADDUP BEEEEEEEEAK????”

Teows looked concerned. “Claud we have to get out of here,” he whispered. “We’re losing him.”

James Van Der Beak: “No Patrick, he’s right. We are all each other now. It is the only true way to control. Together.”

John Teows: “Why are you even here anyway? Shouldn’t you be filming your Oscar-winning role or something?”

Van Der Beak smiled coldly. “That’s why I’m here. They never saw what I was capable of. They only put me in stupid shows. They let Katie flaunt it in front of me every day without ever even letting me touch. In short, they never saw my true talent. Through our coalition here, eventually we will have enough control in Hollywood to change all that.”

Claud Gireaux: “So everyone at the station was under your control? Where’s Heatly?”

Michael Leighten: “No that part was real. We don’t want any part of him. Many other parts were real too, unfortunately. Unpreventable. We are still in our infant stages. That is why we are recruiting so heavily.”

Claud Gireaux: “And what about you, Bell–I mean Kristin?”

Kristin Stewert: “No you can call me Bella. I know you like it.”

Patrick Matoúre: “Giggidy.”

Gireaux looked confused. “But how…?”

Kristin Stewert just smiled. “You asked why I was here? I’m here because society wouldn’t let me date R-Pat and sleep with my director at the same time, not without criticizing me and making my life a living hell anyway. Plus, Twilight. I don’t think I need to say more. Soon we’ll have the power to change all that.”

Claud Gireaux: “But how did you know about Bella?”

Leighten chuckled. “We know more as we grow each day. Imagine what we could achieve with you here as well. And John, Patrick, you are also welcome to join. I have put what happened in 2010 behind me, now that I know it happened through no fault of my own, simply through random chance at the worst possible time. Now we understand the method to control everything.”

Teows’ eyebrows furrowed. “So basically, you guys just want to be the Illuminati?”

“No!” Fumed Leighten. “Don’t be absurd, now…” He tried to hide his animosity. We are the Illumilucki. Because now, we make our own luck.”

John Teows: “I’m going to have to pass. Sorry.”

Leighten’s jaw tensed. “Well, that is your choice to make. For now. What about you, Claud?”

Claud Gireaux: “Sorry but I could never live in a house with furnishing like this. And as much as my GMs have driven me to where I might be susceptible to an offer like this, I guess in the end I still have hope of winning a Cup. Plus we play Anaheim twice next year and I think I can break some major records with Heatly playing defense over there.

“Wait seriously?” Said Teows. “Oh s***! How many times do we play them Patty? Sittler’s record is going down!” Patrick, strangely, was oddly silent. Meanwhile, Leighten and Hartnel exchanging disheartened looks, as the rest of them stared at the floor.

Claud Gireaux: “But why are you hear, Mike?”

Mike Richard: “They just couldn’t let it go! First in Philly, now in L.A. ‘You’re not allowed to play drunk, Mike. It’s not safe. Na-na-na-na-na-na-NAG. Soon we’ll make our own drunk hockey league where playing is twice as fun and watching is four times as entertaining. Win win!

Claud Gireaux: “And you, Logun?”

Logun Coutoure: “Four words: Joe Thorton, Patrick Marleau.”

“Well at least you have a good reason to be here,” said Teows, getting up from the couch. “Claud, Patrick, I think it’s time we get out of here.”

“Sorry guys,” said Gireaux, as he got up with Teows. But Matoúre, who had been oddly quiet, stayed silent.

John Teows: “Uh Patty, let’s go!”

Patrick Matoúre: “I’m sorry, Cereal, but I don’t think I’ve been myself for a while. I miss my mullet. I’ve tried so hard to change, to be matoúre, but listening to everyone here, I mean why should I have to be? Why shouldn’t everyone accept me for who I am?”

John Teows: “Because you play like s*** when you’re hungover!”

Patrick looked petulant. “Well maybe Mike is right! Maybe we need a new league for that! I’d be the best player for sure!”

“Not so fast…” Said Mike Richard. But the rest of the Illumilucki were gleeful at the prospect of at least one new member. For a moment there it wasn’t looking good for any at all.

Teows looked angry. “You can’t think like that Patty! Focus, remember? We can’t go back! Come on. We’re going. Now.”

“No! I’ve wanted to join the real Illuminati for a long time, but they said Lebron James already had his hands full babysitting ‘one Manziel,’ whatever that means! This is the closest I’ll ever get! Sometimes the only way to get in is the ground floor!”

Teows forced an uncomfortable laugh. “Well that’s good since this f***ing house only has one floor! Like you’d last two weeks here!”

James Van Der Beak: “NONE OF YOU WOULD LAST ONE WEEK ON THE CREE–”

John Teows: “–WE F***ING GET IT! NOW LET’S GO PATRICK!”

“NO!” Said Patrick. “If you’re such a good leader, Captain Serious, then you probably don’t need me anyway. You don’t even like the real me. Go have fun with your light.”

John Teows: “COME ON! YOU’RE BEING RIDICULOUS!”

Patrick: “YOU DON’T! YOU KNOW IT’S TRUE!”

Teows shook his head as he began to get emotional. “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

Patrick: “Say what!”

John Teows: “I do need you. I swear, you’re like my second favorite Conn Smythe winner on the team.”

Patrick started counting on his fingers for a second before giving up in frustration. “Well it’s too late, Johnny. Just go!”

John Teows: “But I…”

Then Michael Leighten stood up in front of Kaine. “The boy has made his decision. I suggest you respect it.”

Teows hesitated. “Is this really what you want, Patty?”

Patrick crossed his arms across his chests to signal he wasn’t moving.

“Let’s go, John.” Said Gireaux. Teows looked back at Patrick one last time, but then he followed Gireaux out the door.

Meanwhile, back in the house, Patrick seemed to have mixed feelings. He was really looking forward to hanging out with James Van Der Beak, but he also knew he’d just made a big decision.

“You made the right choice, me,” said Leighten.

Me” The rest repeated in unison.

“Now repeat after me, me,” said Leighten, looking at Patrick. “Control the poll, control the result.”

Patrick repeated the words.

Michael Leighten: “In atoms we share our conduit.” Patrick repeated.

Michael Leighten: “That’s why you are me and I am you…” Patrick repeated.

Michael Leighten: “…and the luck ruling the world we now see through.” Patrick repeated.

Michael Leighten: “And so we harness it for our own design.” Patrick repeated.

Michael Leighten: “So that its control can now be mine.” Patrick repeated.

Michael Leighten: “And so mother nature shall begin to cry.” Patrick repeated.

Michael Leighten: “When one morn’ this power she shall be unable to find.” Patrick repeated.

Michael Leighten: “For I shall have it then… and they will no longer dictate life to me… But I to them!” Patrick repeated.

“Well done,” smiled Leighten, along with the rest of the group. Patrick smiled uneasily.

“So it must be pretty cool to have all this power and control, yeah?”

Everyone paused for a minute.

“Uh, yeah… Definitely! Right guys?” Said Leighten with forced enthusiasm.

“Right yeah, for sure, yeah,” the rest of them muttered.

“Well great!” Said Patrick. “So I can get my hot chocolate now at least?”

“Oh…” Said Leighten. “Actually, we don’t have hot chocolate here.”

“Are you serious?” Said Patrick. “I thought we could do anything!”

“Oh, right.” Stuttered Leighten. “Well I’m sure someone could go to the store, right?”

A pause.

“Mike, do you think you could–”

“–Why does it always have to be me!”

“Fine. Fine. Logun?”

“I’m busy on twitter. If I don’t do something I’m worried we might lose our Ice Girls.”

Michael Leighten: “Kristin?”

Kristin Stewert: “Oh, because I’m the girl?”

Michael Leighten: “What??? First, since we are all each other, we are all girls.”

Kristin Stewert: “Yeah? Let’s see you deal with my period then!”

Michael Leighten: “Come on Kristin! I just asked two guys before you!”
>
Kristin Leighten: “Yeah well I’ve been on twitter too and I learned that whenever the girl isn’t always given first opportunity at the good things, and asked last to do the <ibad things, it’s sexism.”

Logun Coutoure: “B**** will you just shut the f*** up already?”

Kristin Stewert: “Why, can’t hear your porn well enough? Perv.”

Logun Coutoure: “I WAS HACKED B****! I’m a professional hockey player! I can get real sex if I want it!”

Kristin Stewert: “Well enjoy it while it lasts buddy because us girls on twitter are wising up, and pretty soon we’re not even going to have sex with men at all.”

Logun Coutoure: “Lucky for me some girls still live in the real world, not twitter, and I thought the whole reason you were here was because you wanted to bone your director and your boyfriend at the same time!”

Kristin Stewert: “Uhh, I’m a feminist!

Logun Coutoure: “What does that have to do with anything? You make no sense!”

Kristin Stewert: “Duh! It means that even when I blatantly contradict myself, I’m still right! I get to change my mind as much as I want!”

Logun Coutoure: “No wonder Claud and Johnny didn’t want to join up. The only chick here is a complete f***ing nutcase!”

Kristin Stewert: “So feminism is nuts? SEXIST! And I’ll have you know that Michael says Claud was fantasizing about me at the station, s***face!”

Patrick: “CAN I JUST GET MY F***ING HOT CHOCOLATE ALREADY?”

“Oh, right…” Said Leighten. “Harty?”

Scott Hartnel: “Actually the store’s closed today… nothing we can really do, sorry Patrick.”

Patrick: “BUT I THOUGHT YOU GUYS COULD CONTROL THINGS!”

Kristin Stewert: “They certainly try to control women. Patriarchy.”

Michael Leighten: “WE! There is no they in here! The they is out there!”

“YOU MEAN LIKE AT THE STORE?” Patrick yelled, ripping off his tuxedo to reveal a big KAINER tattoo across his chest. “WHERE THEY HAVE F***ING HOT CHOCOLATE? I’VE HAD ENOUGH! I AM PATRICK F***ING KAINE, AND I AM IN CONTROL! Mikey, I’d kick your ass at drunk hockey every day of the week! You can barely skate when you’re sober! Logun, well I’m taking you with me because I need a second line center, but you’re not allowed to room with me! I value my sleep. Kristin, let me know when you’re sleeping with men again! Hartnel, character concerns suck, don’t they? So annoying. Beak, I think I’ll miss you most of all… But I did f*** Katie Holmes. Sorry…”

James Van Der Beak: “NOOOOO! Shia Labeouf bested me with Michelle, and now you with Katie! At least Tom Cruz I could understand!”

Patrick Kaine: “Whatever. And Michael…”

“Yes?” Said Leighten, as Patrick Kaine approached.

“How’s this for five-hole?” Patrick said, as he kneed him in the balls. “See? Nothing’s changed. And from now on, I’m going to make it a point not to change either.”

And with that, Kaine jumped towards the door. Everyone else tried to block him, yelling that he’d already taken the oath, but he was too quick. He wall-jumped himself all the way to the door and then kicked through it, landing outside and riding it like a surf board to the curb. To his surprise, Teows and Gireaux were still there sitting in the car, so he got in.

“Go! Quick! They’re coming!”

And they drove a way before the Illumilucki could even get close.

Patrick Kaine: “You guys waited!”

“Yeah,” said Teows, tearing up. “I’m sorry I tried to change you, Pat!”

“Whatever,” said Kaine.

John Teows: “How about we go get some hot chocolate?”

“Yeah.” Said Kaine. “Sounds really good. Yeah…”

“What exactly happened to there?” Asked Gireaux.

Patrick Kaine: “I was super mean to Michael Leighten for no reason.”

Claud Gireaux: “Why?”

Claud Gireaux: “I never sought out to be when this started, but it’s just kind of where it went.”

They all nodded together. “Random chance.”

John Teows: “I guess he was right. Luck really does hate him. Almost like fate or something…”

“Yup,” said Kaine, nodding. “Just like it’s Claud’s fate here to never win the Cup.”

Bastard.

And so they drove away, and all was well…

THE END

Or so they thought. How naive they were! Suddenly two priuses with tinted windows swerved in front of them, forcing Teows to slam on the brakes. Then Will Gaits jumped out, pointing an IPhone at Teows’ car. More men followed from out of the priuses, all with similar appearances, all holding IPhones and pointing them.

Will Gaits: “We have your exact position triangulated through our… cool phones. If you wish to live, get out the car, now. Otherwise say hello to our… big, metal, earth-orbiting friend! … It’s a satellite… A state of the art satellite. It’s actually really cool. But get out now or be vanquished by it!”

Teows, Kaine, and Gireaux all got out of the car. Being the leader he is, Teows spoke up.

“What do you want with us?”

Will Gaits: “We saw where you came from. We have the Illumilucki house under constant surveillance. What happened? Why were you there? Are you with them?”

John Teows: “No. We left. We don’t want anything to do with them.”

Will Gaits: “We know Kaine was in there for a few minutes. Did you say the oath, Kaine?”

Patrick Kaine: “…Nah bro. Nah.”

Gaits breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. Good.”

Claud Gireaux: “What do you want with them anyway? Who are you?”

Will Gaits: “Uh I’m Will Gaits.”

Patrick Kaine: “Oh cool! I love youtube. I guess I should say thank you!”

Claud Gireaux: “No I mean, what do you care about the Illumilucki?”

Gaits paused, thinking over if he should tell them. Finally he gave in.

Will Gaits: “Because we are the Illumicorsi.”

“What!” They all said together. “How is that any different from the Illumilucki?” Gireaux said.

Will Gaits: “Oh it couldn’t be more different. The Illumilucki want to become the sample so they can control it, but we don’t need to control it because we control its perception. It’s been happening all around you, you just didn’t see it. Statistics in sports, like “corsi,” are just phase one. Sports makes up a huge part of the web, and we’ve been working to control that discussion through all of our bloggers, a few of the beginner ones you see here as interns, so we can profit from it. We based our motto and business philosophy on the corsi-stats themselves: “Quantity over quality.” Because as they say, no publicity is bad publicity. We just want as many bloggers working for us as possible.”

Patrick Kaine nodded. “That does explain a lot. Some of those guys are just so stupid.”

Gireaux and Teows exchanged sideways glances as Will Gaits continued on.

“Sports are also the bread and butter of the betting community, did you know that?” He said. “Now we control which teams people bet on. Trust. We’re working towards controlling it all. But if the Illumilucki succeed in their plan of becoming the sample, then it will no longer be randomness in need of analysis, and they will be in control. Do you see? If the players start deciding the outcome of every single play in a game, instead of just almost all of them, we will no longer be able to exaggerate that chance-factor …”

Patrick Kaine: “That’s so true guys…”

Will Gaits: “… And we will no longer be able to convince people through our bloggers that sports are actually just a weighted game of dice. We will no longer be able to control the discussion or the people!

Patrick Kaine: “Wait I thought I got it, but now… well I think I got it, but I’m not sure I got… Guys did you get it?”

John Teows: “Yeah I’m not sure I follow Will.”

Will Gaits laughed. “We want to make money, boys! Hookers are expensive. And nobody works for less than statisticians with no degrees in statistics!”

Patrick Kaine: “But when I applied for the real Illuminati, I remember you were there. I thought you were one of them?”

Will Gaits: “And so do they. They think I joined after they bullied me with the lawsuits, to get them to take the heat off me. But no one bullies Will f***ing Gaits! Soon we will start phase two, where we introduce corsi to the stock market, and once that happens, the world will never go back! Are you sure you’re making money? How do you know the profit isn’t just random variance? We will teach people not to count their profits that fall within the standard deviation zone. Instead we will trick them into giving those profits to us.

Patrick Kaine: “Wow! This guy is smart!”

Gaits let out a gleeful laugh. “You might call me an expert

Teows and Gireaux were going cross-eyed from all the sideways glances they were exchanging.

Will Gaits: “And then after that, we will get them with the sample size rouse in phase 2B! We’ll tell them dollars and cents are too infrequent an event to adequately measure profit. We’ll introduce money shots. Not every bill we pay you will go in to the bank, because they won’t all count or be real, per se, in fact most of them won’t be, but there will be many more of them, to avoid ‘small sample errors.’ And as long as they believe the percentage of real bills, the bill-quality, will always even out over time, which is what we call bill PDO, we can keep sending them quantity counterfeit ones, and keep their real profits for ourselves! Quantity over quality, it’s basic corsinomics!”

Claud Gireaux: “But why are you pretending to be in the real Illuminati when you actually have your own plan?”

Will Gaits: “If they knew I was working against them, knew I wasn’t really one of them, they would destroy me like they tried to before! Just ask James Van Der Beak!”

Claud Gireaux: “Uh I think he just wasn’t that good of an actor, actually.”

Will Gaits: “That’s what they want you to think. Van Der Beak may in fact be the greatest actor to ever live. They just paired him with Katie Holmes so she could torture him every day because they wanted to destroy him, to stunt his potential. If only he’d come to me, maybe I could have helped him. But he was desperate so he made the wrong decision. Now he’s taken the Illumilucki oath and there’s nothing more we can do for him.”

Patrick Kaine gulped.

Will Gaits: “But I’ve already told you too much!! Stay away from that house. Next time I won’t be so forgiving… and forthcoming about my secret plans!”

Gaits turned to get back in his prius, while his blogger interns held the door open for him.

“Wait!” Said Patrick Kaine. “There’s something I need to ask you!”

“… Yes?”

“Why are you using IPhones? Aren’t they, like, a different internet company?”

Will Gaits laughed. Then his blogger interns caught on and began to laugh as well. “We’re the Illumicorsi. Acting in our own self-interests is what we care about i>most of the time, but what we truly value above all else, even that, is to look cool and be accepted and popular. That’s why whenever corsi gets mentioned on TSN or NBCSN by the analysts we constantly shiton, you see all of our bloggers orgasm all over twitter. We just want to fit in! AndTakeOverEverythingAndStifleEveryoneElse BYE!”

“But wait!” Cried Kaine.

Will Gaits: “… Yes?””

Patrick Kaine: “What does that have to do with your IPads?”

Will Gaits chucked again. “Because everyone likes the IPhone, the dumb bastards. When you can’t win people over on merit, stuff like that makes all the difference. And honestly, it’s so much easier. NOW STOP LAUGHING AND GET IN THE F***ING CAR, INTERNS! My toes need massaging!”

“Yes sir!” The Illumicorsi blogger-interns all said in unison, straightening up and wiping the grins from their faces. And with that Gaits drove off.

Patrick Kaine: “This is all getting so complicated.”

Teows nodded. “I feel like there must be a prequel coming.” (There isn’t).

They were all about to get back in Teows’ car when James Van Der Beak came running by them along the sidewalk.

Patrick Kaine: “Beak what are you doing here? How’d you escape? I thought you were pledged to stay with the Illumilucki?”

James Van Der Beak: “Yeah well so were you! But Michael told me what that other cop said about me at a station, about me joining Occupy Wall Street, and it gave me an idea. Occupy Van Der Beak. People will flood the streets until Hollywood agrees to give me a good role.”

Everyone laughed.

James Van Der Beak: “You’ll see. You’ll all see! I’m even going to f*** Katie Holmes. She’s on the rebound.”

That’s when Tom Cruz came flying down from the sky, creating a crater in the cement where he landed next to the group.

“You stay away from Katie! All of you.”

“You can fly???” They all said, mouths hanging to the floor.

Tom Cruz: “Bet you all feel stupid for making fun of Scientology now. Theta-level OT XV, b****es!”

And with that, he propelled upwards and back into the sky, as everyone watched in disbelief.

James Van Der Beak: “I’m still going to f*** her though.”

“I HEARD THAT!” Tom Cruz’s voice came bellowing down from the sky.

“God he’s cool.” Kaine said.

“I AM GOD!” He bellowed down.

Patrick Kaine: “He really is. And you know what? People like–”

John Teows: “GRRRRRRRRRR! Let’s just f***ing go!”

Patrick Kaine: “Bye Beak! Sorry we couldn’t hang more! It’s just how the random chance turned out, yeah?”

James Van Der Beak: “That and you’re a douche!”

John Teows: “James Van Der Beak just called someone a douche. Keep a lookout for black cats!”

Kaine looked completely demoralized. But then his level 90 defense mechanisms kicked in.

Patrick Kaine: “Oh Katie. Ohh… Yeahhhh. Just like that. Mmmmmmm. Yeahhhh. Getting you to sleep with me was so easy, but not even slightly less enjoyable for it! Mmmmmmmmm yeahhhhhh…

Van Der Beak was fuming. “You’ll see. You’ll all see!” And then he ran off.

Claud Gireaux: “Can we get the f*** out of her now?”

John Teows: “Definitely.”

Patrick Kaine: “She actually wasn’t that good, for the record.”

Claud Gireaux: “You’re so spoiled.”

Patrick Kaine: “Had a nice a**, though… Which reminds me! Johnny, before we get in the car, you have to feel Claud’s. It’s amazing!”

“At least before when this happened, I could say he was drunk,” Teows muttered to Gireaux.

“He’s done that before??” Gireaux said. “I thought I was the only one!”

Patrick Kaine: “If it makes you feel any better, when it comes to championships each of us here has won, you’re the only none.”

“YOU KNOW WHAT?” Yelled Gireaux, finally having enough. “F*** YOU, KAINE! ”

Kaine just laughed. “Your ass is really nice though. But you guys know what’s funny?”

John Teows: “What?”

Patrick Kaine: “I just remembered, I had a hidden camera on my shirt this whole time for the NHL Network. I got this all on tape! The boys will love this stuff!”

Gireaux’s eyes got wide and tense with surprise.

John Teows: “No, we have to get this to the mainstream media! The world has to know what’s really happening!”

Shark Circle: “Trust me, they couldn’t care less.”

“I don’t know, they’d never believe us anyway.” Said Gireaux, recomposing himself. “We should probably just go…”

John Teows: “No, Patrick has the footage. The world needs to know.”

Gireaux thought for a second. “Okay fine, fine. I met Andercon Kiper once. We can take it to him.”

John Teows: “Sure, seems as good as any.”

Patrick Kaine: “Fine… fine… I actually know where CNN is. Me and Erica Burnet had a thing. I can give you directions.”

John Teows: “Yeah uh… I’ll just use my IPhone’s GPS, to be safe. Let’s go!”

And they got in their car, drove to CNN, even though it took awhile, and showed Anderson Kiper the footage.

“Very interesting! Well thanks for showing us all this! You’ve really done the world a service,” said Anderson Kiper, as he raised his eyebrows in Gireaux’s direction. “Me and my staff will take it from here!”

“Thanks!” Said Teows and Gireaux, walking towards the exit.

“Wait,” said Kaine. “Where’s Erica?”

Anderson Kiper’s jaw tightened as his lips pursed and his eyes narrows.

“You stay away from her.”

Kaine gave Anderson a dirty look and followed Gireaux and Teows out the door. They went to their car and drove back to Gireaux’s house to catch the news at the top of the air. After getting situated in his home theatre, the broadcast started.

Anderson Kiper: “Welcome to Anderson Kiper 33° at the top of the hour, and boy do we have some important news to share, starting right now with tonight’s top story.”

Claud Gireaux: “Here it comes!”

Anderson Kiper: “… After being arrested for his gruesome binge-tempest of discrimination against a gay police officer earlier today, Claud Gireaux was released from police custody about two hours ago on bail, although he is still pending charges …”

“Hmmm…” Said Gireaux.

John Teows: “They must not have wanted to admit they let you escape and that one of the officers holding you was actually Michael Leighten.”

Claud Gireaux: “I guess so…”

Anderson Kiper: “To give insight into how you’re supposed to think on this story, we’re now joined by Kaandra Velena, a third-year psychology student at Smith College with an excellent resume in extracurriculars. She’s even directed student groups abroad and has been named the second Chester Bowles Fellow in history.”

Kaandra Velena: “Hi Anderson. So aroused to be here!”

Anderson Kiper: “Of course! Tell us all what really happened here.”

Kaandra Velena: “It’s what we in Ms. Penanimus’s class refer to as suppressed sexist inversion.”

Anderson Kiper: “Exactly. That’s exactly what it is. What is it? … For the viewers, if you could explain…”

Kaandra Velena: “The mathematical theorem of suppressed sexist inversion says it’s men’s nature to be evil and sexist, but that thanks to the saving grace of humanity, feminism, men like Gireaux have learned to never voice those innate sexist thoughts of theirs to women. However, since those thoughts are always there, irrepressible, one consequence of this which I actually find to be quite enjoyable and deserving in one sense, is that men are now releasing these thoughts in the only direction they can without being punished, other men.”

Anderson Kiper: “That just makes so much sense. Where would we be without psychology?”

Kaandra Velena: “Unfortunately where it gets less hilarious is that men find it much easier to release their innate sexism towards other men who are minorities. That’s why the discrimination we’re seeing daily now in the U.S. towards African Americans is worse than it even was during slavery. That’s why gays have never had a harder time, with less rights, and fewer places they could get married. Men just cannot help being sexist, and that’s the real reason Gireaux discriminated against that male police officer today. It’s a worldwide problem in the U.S., and it’s never been worse.”

Patrick Kaine had been nodding slowly this whole time. “That’s so true,” he said. “I remember one time at a bar, this guy finally asked out this girl, like officially, who we all knew he had like been in love with for a while, and she had to tell him she didn’t feel the same way and everything. The prejudice was blatant. Would he have asked out his male friend like he did with her? It’s like men think they are entitled to look for love and have feelings for women. I had to beat the guy up later, and then I banged the chick. Classic Kainer move. My boys gave me props for weeks.”

John Teows: “No no Patty that was just a dream you had, remember? I remember when you told me about this.”

Patrick Kaine: “Well whatever. The point is the guy in my dream was super sexist.”

John Teows: “Stuff like that is exactly why we need to keep moving forward, right? We can’t go back.”

Kaine sighed. “I don’t know Johnny. I don’t think I ever did get my hot chocolate today. And hearing about all the gay slavery happening now just really makes me mad. Not everyone knows but I’ve always had this innate sense of justice inside me ever since I was little. If I hadn’t turned out to be such a hockey prodigy, I probably would have been a superhero, like Tom Cruz.”

Gireaux’s eyes had been glued to the television screen with interest until now, only barely paying attention to the conversation around him, but he caught the end of Tewos and Kaine’s conversation.

“Well at least we know who their target audience is.”

Anderson Kiper: “… What do you think Gireaux is feeling right now? What advice would you give him? …”

“Well as you know, Anderson, I don’t claim to know everything,” laughed Kaandra Velena on the television.

Anderson laughed as well. “Of course…”

Kaandra Velena: “But what we do know is what he’s not feeling: guilt. This is a female-specific emotion, like compassion, ingenuity, and intelligence.”

Claud Gireaux: “The last two aren’t even emotions…’

Patrick Kaine shook his head disapprovingly at these remarks. “She’s right. You don’t sound like you feel guilty at all.”

Claud Gireaux: “That’s because I’m–”

Patrick Kaine: “SHH! I’m learning!

Kaandra Velena: “… All I can suggest for him if he’s watching is to turn himself in. If he acts soon, he can probably get off with sterilization and life in prison …”

Claud Gireaux: “Why would they need to sterilize someone who spends life in prison anyway? Who am I going to have a kid with in an all-male prison? It doesn’t make any sense!”

Patrick Kaine: “Doesn’t step them from trying.”

John Teows: “That’s actually a harmful stereotype. Gireaux at least deserves to be able to serve his time in peace, without getting attacked.”

Kaandra Velena: “… Although honestly Gireaux might be better off just taking the injection, because he won’t find much peace in prison. People in there don’t take kindly to homophobes. They’ll give him a real reason to be scared. But let’s be honest, that’s no less than Gireaux, and really all men, deserve because of their innate evil…”

Patrick Kaine: “Yuck. That’s definitely not my thing. Oh s*** now I’m homophobic too! I shouldn’t have said that! Johnny if they come for me, you’ll protect me, right?”

John Teows: “Will you promise not to start drinking again?”

Patrick Kaine: “Oh I promise! I’ll never drink again!”

John Teows: “Don’t worry, Claud’s the one in real trouble.”

Claud Gireaux: “Thanks.”

John Teows: “Sorry Claud, I’d like to help but I don’t know that there’s much I can do. It sounds like they’ve got you by the balls. You might want to go back to Leighten and see if the Illumilucki can’t help you.”

Patrick Kaine: “No, turns out they can’t do s***, actually.”

Teows raised his eyebrows. “I don’t know then. Have any ideas, Claud?”

Gireaux sat and thought for a second. “Well maybe once they get to Kaine’s video footage about all the crazy stuff that’s really happening, everyone will stop obsessing over ridiculous thought-crimes.”

Anderson Kiper: “… And that’s all we have for you this evening. Pretty slow news day, but we’ll be back tomorrow with our brand new special on what one psychology student are now calling “silent same race racism.” Can racist remarks actually cause more harm when you never say them and they don’t actually have anything to do with race? That’s the question on everyone’s lips. It’s a two-pronged question. We’ll have more tomorrow. Thank you as always for the wisdom, Kaandra …”

Kaandra Velena: “It’s my pleasure. The people deserve to know the truth on these important issues.”

Anderson Kiper: “This is Anderson Kiper for Anderson Kiper Thirty Three and CNN, signing out.”

John Teows: “S***! They didn’t even play it!”

Claud Gireaux: “Hmmm…”

Patrick Kaine: “Play what? Oh. I don’t even care anymore that Tom Cruz can fly or that Will Gaits has some master plan. If we don’t stop the sexist men before it’s too late, nothing else will matter.”

John Teows: “What will you do, Claud?”

Gireaux thought for a second. Then Kaine spoke up.

Patrick Kaine: “I know! Find the real Illuminati!”

Teows raised his eyebrows. “That’s actually a really good idea.”

Gireaux looked uncomfortable at the suggestion, but eventually composed himself.

“Alright, well… Patrick, you said that when you applied for the Illuminati, you saw Will Gaits there. Do you remember anyone or anything else?”

Patrick Kaine: “Honestly I was pretty drunk. But I know they mentioned Lebron and Johnny Football.

John Teows: “Yeah but they’re just the pawns, foot soldiers in the same way Gaits says he uses his bloggers, except Lebron and Johnny Football each have at least one talent. Claud needs to find the people in charge.”

“But how?” Said Kaine, as Gireaux looked at the ground, pensive.

John Teows pulled out his phone, dialing a number. “I think I know a way.”

The phone rang three times before someone picked up. Gireaux and Kaine listened on with curiosity bordering on suspicion. Then someone picked up, and a voice could be heard saying “Hello?”

“Hi Gary,” responded Johnny. “I need you to put Claud Gireaux in contact with the people in charge of the Illuminati, otherwise I’m going to the KHL next year.”

Gary Bestman: “F***! Claud’s in a lot of trouble you know, Johnny. Discrimination.”

John Teows: “Yeah well if he doesn’t get out of trouble, he won’t be generating revenue for the NHL next year, will he?”

Gary Bestman: “Fine Fine! Tell him to come to the Rittenhouse Hotel at 3:33AM, and they will meet him in room 66. Make sure he’s alone. That’s all I can do.” And with that, Bestman hung up.

Gireaux arrived at the hotel at 3:32AM, and the door to room 66 was opened for him at exactly 3:33AM as he could be seen walking through it.

“It worked, Gary,” a voice could be heard through the door afterwards.

Gary Bestman: “Good.”

“Your tip about the police station was dead on. It turned out to be Leighten! Crazy, right? But just like you said, it was the Illumilucki camp. I’m sorry Teows called you, by the way. Some coincidence, huh? I didn’t want to break cover so I didn’t say anything. But I didn’t just learn about the Illumilucki! Through some good fortune, I also learned more about the Illumicorsi. And Scientology! When they reach a high enough theta level, they can fly.”

Gary Bestman: “Interesting… We’d heard rumors about that. Tell me everything you know.”

And that’s exactly what Claud Gireaux did.

Gary Bestman: “Excellent. I will report this information straight to the top. Good job picking Anderson to show the footage too, by the way. He hid it so we can pick it up at a safe time.”

Claud Gireaux: “I knew he would. I’m glad you prepped me on what to do if someone had a camera.”

Gary Bestman: “We’re not who we are by accident. I just hope we get to see all the footage to add to your account of what happened, but from what Anderson was able to watch in-between tapings for his show, Patrick Kaine must have messed up the camera because the audio wasn’t working at all, and a lot of the tape, at least what Anderson watched, actually had the lens pointed at his feet.”

Claud Gireaux: “Figures.”

Gary Bestman: “I guess Kaine isn’t who he is by accident, either. But you handled that situation good, Claud. You really did.”

Claud Gireaux: “Thank you. When we were watching Anderson’s show, I even pretended to be frustrated when he didn’t play the footage during the broadcast, just to sell it to Teows and Kaine. In fact I tried to react and even think realistically to every situation that presented itself, although I did lose my way there for a minute trying to prove my hands were the best at the station. If Kaine hadn’t come along, I may not have made it to Leighton’s.

Gary Bestman: “We got his AA leader to convince him he needed to make amends with you. It turned out to only be two blocks away.”

Claud Gireaux: “Leighten was right about one thing, a little luck never hurts. But you might be interested to know, Van Der Beak said Kaine even took the Illumilucki oath.”

Gary Bestman: “Good. We can use that. And remember, Claud, what matters is it all worked out in the end. For us, it always does. But you did well. We’ll have the charges dropped tomorrow. Sorry if Anderson laid on the discrimination crap a little too hard, by the way. He was just trying to make sure you didn’t turn on us, plus he’s pushing programming like that for so long, he doesn’t know any other way.”

Claud Gireaux: “I guess. It was pretty harsh.”

Gary Bestman: “Don’t even worry about it. A few weeks on the PR trail and your image will be better than ever. We’ll tell our people on every station to react positively to your apology and give you the ‘sincere’ label, and you’ll be untouchable. Sound good?”

Gireaux nodded. “Appreciate it.”

Gary Bestman: “Great! Well, is there anything else you need?”

Gireaux seemed confused. “Uh, well, like I told you when you asked me to do this, all I want, all I’ve ever wanted, is some f***ing line-mates. And a better defense. And a goaltender. On second thought, maybe we better look at the GM…”

“Oh how could I forget!” Gary Bestman laughed. “We’ll take care of it. We’ll take care of it all, like always. See you next season.”

“Finally!” Gireaux jumped up with joy. “We might actually win the Cup next season!”

Gary Bestman: “I wouldn’t go that far… You still play for the Flyers.”

Bastard.

“Oh, one more thing!” Said Gary Bestman.

Claud Gireaux: “What.”

Gary Bestman: “Gloria wanted me to say hi. She’s a big fan. She called me because some punk hockey blogger called Shark Circle is telling people the truth about her, and she says that falls under my jurisdiction. You familiar with the punk?”

Claud Gireaux: “Yeah, Shark Circle is the worst. You familiar with M. Night Shyamalan?”

Gary Bestman: “What does that have to do with anything?”

Claud Gireaux: “I don’t know. But yeah Shark Circle is the worst. Total sexist, right?”

Gary Bestman: “Don’t be silly. That stuff is for the peasants, distractions. You’re one of us now. Don’t get poisoned by your own product.”

Claud Gireaux: “Sure, sure, but I’m asking honestly. I mean there weren’t any strong female characters in this!”

Gary Bestman: “Yeah but that’s just because Patrick Kaine was involved.”

Claud Gireaux: “Okay yeah, you have a point.”

THE END

This concludes Part III of A Handsgate Exclusive. You can catch up on part I here and part II here. I hope you enjoyed this behind-the-scenes look at the Handsgate controversy, and all the other craziness that ensued! This entire blog-series was entirely fictional, and intended as humor and fantasy. The characters in the story are not intended to represent the true personalities or beliefs of any real people. Any perceived allusions or similarities to how the mainstream media operates in real life are entirely coincidental. Thank you for reading, and if you enjoyed it, please consider sharing it with your friends if you think they would enjoy it. One way of doing this is using the share buttons below the post.

Lastly, I am copyrighting the terms and “comic ideas” Illumilucki, its alternate spelling Illumilucky, and Illumicorsi. ©Illumilucki, ©Illumilucky, ©Illumicorsi. That doesn’t even mean they’re necessarily funny (some will hopefully find them funny, some won’t), but I may use them in humor blogs in the future, so I’m covering my bases. Everyone is of course welcome to use them in conversation. I just intend this so that if someone uses them to write a blog in the future, they link back here to credit me.

Thank you for reading!

Written by Shark Circle

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