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Perhaps our dear friend Stan is packing a little more than a Kalashnikov in there … if you catch my drift. Or rather, if you catch my massive not-at-all-subtle gust of hinting.

Though I do apologize for this foray into school floor hockey, I do again want to note that very little, if anything, from this comic is biographical. Yes, we had a team, yes, we won some games, but I wish it was half as glamorous as it is here, because every shift used to end with me lying on my back in the parking lot trying not to die but being very excited to get back into the game. Damn my tiny puny heart. Anyway, enjoy this couple of weeks of hockey action, it probably won’t be back until at least next spring, or probably even longer.