Alex Tanguay, Marc Denis, Georges Laraque, and Robert Lang sit patiently, wondering what the hell they have put themselves into.
Today's debate is about whether or not they should have pepperoni on the pizzas.
"Kovy, you are the man. Tell us," says a voice somewhere in the crowd. It has got a very strong Russian accent, but most of the heads are nodding.
A very offended Saku Koivu stands on the bench, as completely hidden behind Ryan O'Byrne earlier. "Wait a minute. I AM still your Captain. I may not score as much, and represent the team as much, but I am still here for God's sake. So I get to decide."
"At least Alexei knows how to order in French. Merci Alex," says Brisebois from the other side of the room, trying to erase the wheelchair drawings Sergei Kostitsyn made on his locker.
"Shut it, grandpa. Don't think you're a Chris Chelios or something. Do it like your contract signing, wait behind everyone else!"
"Whatever. Anyway, you guys want to have 10 or 12, and classic or crispy?" Asks Kovalev, whose voice has arisen a deep respect in the room.
"But no peppers, they fall off. It's like Saku's career. It falls off pretty often," says a young man sitting deep in the corner, with a Red Deer hat on his head. If you take a closer look, he has got goalie pads on.
"Hey you, mister I-am-the-next-Patrick-Roy. If you did not choke during the second round, I would be in Finland now with my Stanley Cup ring. So stop being such a smart mouth, Lucky Luke."
"At least I am not the next Saku Koivu," replies the kid, as he reads the menu.
"You might need to," stops Jaroslav Halak, still wondering who has written "Forever Backup" on his locker. "I am going to get the first spot, Marco (Denis) will get the second one. You, bye bye!"
"See what happened to Cristo (Huet) and Yann? That is called the Price effect. I am so going to sit on you. Hum, not too much cheese please."
"Make it 12, please. Price is going to eat them all, so that he can just be down on his knees and fill up the entire net. You know, that is no accomplishment, you big, giant... elephant!"
"Nobody told you to be built up like a 12 year old. So shut it."
As the two goaltenders are about to throw one to each other, Kostopoulos jumps in. Always there whenever a brawl starts (please refer to Tampa Bay Police Department).
Hearing the call of this great hockey feature that is fighting, Laraque droped the golf gloves he was showing to Tanguay. "This is when I get into the picture. Back off Tommy."
"But that is the only thing I am good at," replies Kostopoulos, looking confused and about to be crying. "You can't take that away from me. I am this team's Gordie Howe. I am this team's Gggggg...mmmmmm," as Laraque puts one page of the menu in his mouth.
The entire room heats up, while Mathieu Dandenault tries to stick his picture on the Hall-of-Famers wall in the locker room. Next to him, Brisebois is drawing diapers on Sergei Kostitsyn's locker.
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