The Sports Daily > Days of Y'Orr
PURRGERON REPORT: The Great Sausage Caper


It's been a while since Ace Reporter and DOY GM has made a public appearance. He took an extended vacation during the NHL Lockout and barely gave us the keys to DOY HQ for work. But he's back in town and just in time. Last night some asshat threw debris on the ice during Tyler Seguin's shootout attempt. The reffs ruled that Seguin had to do it again. Luckily for Boston fans, Seguin is a beast at the SO and buried both attempts. But who was this douchebag? Why did he throw free food on the ice? And was he a Bruins fan? Or a Devils plant?

I had just returned to Boston from a trip to the Bahamas. It was nice there. Warm. Sunny. Beautiful women wearing nearly nothing and always willing to give a few scritches. A cat could get used to a life like that. And what was the rush? The Bruins were undefeated, DOY was running smoothly… or as smooth as possible anyways. But I started to get that itch. At first I thought it was just behind the left ear but then I realized it was an itch to return to Boston — to the cold, snow and grey. So I bought a ticket on the next flight and left paradise for home.

And a good thing I did.

No sooner did I get back into town when my new intern, Galena, appeared. She was cute looking, even though pain and distraught twisted her face into almost an evil hiss.

I went down to the Garden. Cam was busy in a meeting but I was told to speak with the players. Seemed logical enough. I headed for the locker room, and spoke with hearttrob and Ace shooter, Tyler Seguin on what happened. He told me the same thing he told reporters the night of the incident.

To Hell with this Devil's fan, I thought. There's a special place there for those who interfere with live hockey.

I then met up with Cam Neely. He looked angry, his knucles bloody and a gaping hole in the wall. Clearly he wasn't pleased with this Sausage Thrower… even if the Bruins did win.

He told me what he saw. A flyring piece of meat in the air, landing by Old Man Hedberg who didn't even notice it since he left his glasses at home. Still Seguin had to reshoot. It was bull. And Cam knew that.

Cam brought me down a long, dark corridor and into a large room. White and full of lights it was the brightest room I had ever seen. I can only imagine the horrors that actually took place in such a sterile environment. I wondered if Cam had thought of using it on the Bruins third line… or maybe he used it too much.

The room was barren except for a large table in the middle of the room and a plate. I eyed it curiously as I stepped into the room and toward the only physical evidence the Bruins were able to collect.

As I neared thet able I felt my fur stand on end… the sight I saw… the horror…

Asshole! He wasted a perfectly good food voucher.

I went back to my office to conduct some intricate online research. Surely someone on the Internet would know who the crooked fan was. The Internet never lies. As I perused the millions of tweets,  I came across this one:

Intriguing. I contacted the informant known only as Dafoomie. He directed me to his top secret YouTube page where he said he had video evidence of the perpertrator throwing the hot dog or sausage onto the ice.

I met up with this mysterious Dafoomie in his secret hideaway — a hub of technology and hockey. It looked like something from a Sci-Fi movie. I've blurred his face to keep his secret identy a secret. A cat needs to keep his sources private, too.

"At first I thought it was a woman wearing a long-sleeved Bruins shirt, but I started doing some more digging — video enhacements, triangluation, trajectory forensics and that cool ass shit Batman used in The Dark Knight," Dafoomie told me. "It all led to someone else… someone far more evil than I originally thought."

A dead-end. We had video of the villain who threw the hotdog but couldn't get a clear look at his face. Dafoomie did point me to another Top Secret website that deals specifically with this sort of crime- HFBoards. A man only known in the shady world of the Internet as LordStanely wrote this:

The scum had a black bandana on and walked toward my seat in loge 4 after he threw what looked like a JJ sausage toward the Jersey goalie First thing that came to mind was , what stupid Jersey boy threw that and would the B's lose a goal from this jack— . I wanted to just grab the scum and pound him for the B's , but with the way my day was going I would have been brought up on charges , considering i had my 12 year old son with me and a late 1 hour drive home. Glad the B's pulled this one out from you know where

Interesting. I wonder what he was lord of?

I returned to Dafoomie and he was able to use this info to find a possible suspect.

But questions still remained. Was he a Bruins fan? A Devils fan? He wasn't sporting any official team attire and black is in both team's uniforms. Either way, this guy was a rat and there's nothing I'm better at than hunting a rat. I went back to the scene of the crime and caught his scent. He wouldn't be able to escape me now.

I weaved through the busy streets of Boston, down Causeway Street, by City Hall and Government Center and back to the one place locals never go to:

Cheers. Meh. 

I stepped in. The lights were dim and only a few strands of faint winter sunlight made it's way through the dusty, glass windows. In the corner I saw a man in a black bandana, black t-shirt and neck beard. He didn't spot me but he paid for his Bard's Tale Gold and headed to the back room. I followed, moving as stealthy as… well.. as a me…

The jig was up. The knave gave up without a fight — not that he would've won anyways.

"Who are?" I asked. "What team do you root for?"

He flashed a sardonic smile and opned up his jacket revealing one of the worst t-shits ever made and worn at a Boston Bruins game…

Mike The Situation. Makes sense that some Jersey douche would come up to Boston to ruin a perfectly good hockey game. But something didn't feel right. There was a piece of the puzzle that didn't quite fit.

He scoweled and pulled out a small Lego piece that he thumbed. The child's toy's face was rubbed clear from years of fiddling. I chuckled. Faceless. Exaclty what Kaleta wanted to be after his crime. He stepped toward a window and leanded against it.