Several weeks ago Master Zach returned home from the rink in a violently dark mood. The clear, wintry skies were swallowed up by roiling, ink-black clouds, and thunder rolled ominously as Master Zach stormed into his study and locked the door behind himself. Many hours passed as I fretted in the hallway outside, hoping to hear some indication through the heavy oak panel of what Master Zach was doing within. Finally the door was unlatched, and he summoned me in.
I had never seen Master Zach like this before. His countenance was changed, his features twisted with rage, his eyes burning with dark passions, and complexion appearing feverish as it was lit by nothing but hissing firelight. He settled himself in the creaking leather wingback chair behind his desk, and indicated with the slightest wave of his trembling hand that I was to pull up a chair opposite him. When I had at last managed that deed, he stared at me for what seemed like several eternities, his eyes searching into the very depths of my soul. He must have found what he was looking for there, because he suddenly broke the silence by saying, “Boxworthy, man, I trust you with every element of my being.” His voice was naught but a rasp, sounding as though it was painfully wrung from a bone-dry, tense throat.
I nodded at him to continue. I take my trustworthiness very seriously.
He slid a sheet of paper across the surface of the desk, the paper shaking slightly under his still-trembling hand and the gleaming mahogany reflecting the diabolical, dancing light of the fire. “This is the list,” Master Zach croaked. “Let no one see it. Memorize the names. And then destroy them.”
I did not want to believe what I thought he was asking of me. I pretended not to understand. “Destroy the list?” I asked with false obtuseness.
Master Zach’s eyes shone with a terrifying light. He whispered his response, the words not so much spoken as thought with so much venom as to be audible, “Destroy the men.”
The names of the men I am to destroy are:
Martin St. Louis
I committed the list to memory instantaneously, then put the paper into the fire. Master Zach didn’t say another word as I left the study.
I have called all the henchmen into action on this task. It will take every resource we have at hand to destroy each of these men sufficiently and in time to make it so the National Hockey League sees fit to name Master Zach to the All-Star Team. I would have suggested Master Zach simply work harder on the ice to increase his scoring totals, but I was afraid of what he was — and still is — capable of.