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Saturday, December 31, 2011

Oh Slado! The Arrival In Montreal

August 27, 2012
Jeremy Slado had a rare opportunity. At 15 years old, the aspiring professional hockey player signed a tryout contract with the Montreal Canadiens, who had signed him after a referral from a scout who saw him play in the youth academy for the Barrie Boars. He could become the youngest player in East Cup history, as, although he is not the youngest player on a tryout contract (the Buffalo Sabres are auditioning Danny Fox, who is two weeks younger), he has a good shot at landing a roster spot on a workmanlike Canadiens team with little star power.
Still, despite his apparent potential- he recorded an eye-popping 312 goals and 649 points for Barrie in 112 career youth games- Slado wasn’t a well-known name in Montreal. So when he went out on Crescent Street for his first night in the city, he remained largely anonymous. He did pretty well, meeting a large assortment of women on his night out and the next day he went on his favourite social networking site,, to add them all as friends- as well as a few more.
“Boy, she’s hot,” remarked an excited Slado, clicking “add as friend” while ogling over a woman whose profile picture was herself in a bikini.
“I want to put it in your five-hole.”
“Oh man…score!”
“She’s the one! I’m making her my wife.”
“Mmmmnnn…you can put your hands ALL over me.”
“Suck me baby! Suck me!”
“Kiss me until my lips become dry.”
“That’s definitely jack off material.”
“Oh yeah!”
Suddenly, the adding spree came to an abrupt halt.
“What the heck?” said a surprised Slado. gave him a notification saying that he could not add one lady as a friend, because the site concluded he did not actually know her.
“How can the site know whether or not I’ve actually met the person? That’s absurd.” Slado furiously clicked the “Add” button hoping it would work, but it didn’t. The site then asked him to log in again, which Slado did, only to find out it was wiping his pending friend requests and banning him from adding friends for over a week.
He then got a knock on his door. He answered it to find two men in black suits and dark sunglasses staring at him intently.
“Who are you?” asked Slado.
“We are representatives from and have come to take your computer away,” said one man.
“Um…why do you want to take away my computer?” replied Slado.
“It’s come to our attention that you have been adding way too many people as friends, so we are legally obligated to relieve you of your ability to add people as friends.”
“I’m sorry, but I didn’t agree to this; and how do you even know where I live?” Slado was now defiant.
“You did agree to it when you signed up for the site. Everybody did,” chimed the man on the left, sternly.
“…and we do know where you live. We know where everyone lives. We know everything about you. We have our ways,” said the man on the right, ominously.
“Well, I’m not letting you have my computer,” snapped Slado. “I need it, and legally you can’t take it from me. That contract is unenforceable- you can’t break the law in a contract.”
“Try us,” replied the ominous sounding man on the right, pulling out a document signed by Montreal Police allowing them to confiscate “any device that could be used to access”
“I will.” Slado was then hit with a stun gun, forcing him to the floor.
“I told you not to test us.” Both men proceeded to disconnect his computer and all its wires, while purposely mishandling it.
Slado recovered just as they walked out the door. He reached for his cell phone when he was stopped again.
“We will need that,” said the stern man, swiping the phone from Slado’s hand.
“…I…I…need that…” replied Slado, sheepishly.
“You can access with that. We must take it.”
“No buts.” The stern man stunned him again.
“How long will you have my stuff?” ached Slado.
“We will let you know,” said the ominous man. “I bid you adieu.”
The two men left, leaving Slado to writhe in pain on his apartment floor. He would be fine for his first practice with the Canadiens, but he was lost without his phone or his computer and no one knew when he would get them back.

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