Warm And Fuzzy

One

I cuddle closer to Patty. His bright blue eyes look like marble with the reflection of ESPN flickering in them. Little ESPN eyeballs. They’re so sweet.

“Look, Dommity, wee made ESPN,” he says. I look. There’s a whole bunch of shots of today’s game, from where we beat the Avalanche two-nothing. I got the shutout, Patty got the loss.

“Look, shot of me saving puck!” I say, pointing. Patty laughs.

“Yes.”

I snuggle up closer to his side, his shaggy brown hair is almost in my face and it tickles my ear.

“You know that when I come over and fight you fakely, I not mean it? I not hurt you ever ever ever,” I say. “Never never ever. I love you, Patty.” He smiles but doesn’t look at me. I can tell that he doesn’t ever like to lose.

“Eet ees OK, Dom. I steel love you,” he grins. He doesn’t smile with his eyes anymore, not at all tonight. I didn’t go back to the hotel with my teammates after our win, or out to a bar, I came to Patty’s house because I miss him so much. His house is empty, his wife and kids have gone away somewhere. I don’t care where. I just like to be here with Patty even though he needs a haircut and some anger management classes.

“Are sure? You look angry after fake fight today. I think you upset with me,” I say, sitting up. Patty sits up straighter.

“I am upset! Eet ees not OK! Eet ees not fair dat you get da shutout and I get stuck wit da loss! I ANGRY dat I let down my teammates! Dey need me just as much as your stoopid Wings need you!” he screams. He jumps up and hurls a pillow off the couch at me. It misses its mark, though, because Patty isn’t very good at throwing things. He’s strong, though. When he tore the door off of its hinges he said it didn’t feel like anything. But I wouldn’t know, since I need to spend more time in the workout room. Shanny says I am too skinny for my own good. Patty says that too, but he’s upset with me now.

“It not my fault your team not able score goals at all. But Patty, calm down. We not let one game upset our love, right?” I ask. Patty thinks for a moment, then sits down and smiles.

“Dat is right. You are da best.”

“No, YOU best!” I squeal. Patty tickles my ear (my only ticklish place) and we roll on the ground laughing like a few schoolchildren.

It’s OK. For the moment, I don’t care that I’m too skinny or that I let in soft goals or that there are lots of people who don’t like me. Patty likes me.

We sit back on the couch while ESPN finishes their hockey news. They flash me on screen again. I look very bad in that picture. Maybe I need a haircut, too. No, actually I need more hair. And a shorter neck. Maybe I can get some plastic surgery with my eight million dollar contract…

“Patty, is there a neck-shorter surgery?” I ask. He looks at me oddly.

“Not dat I know of.” Damn. Maybe if I grow my hair out, my neck will look shorter. “Patty, is my neck too long?”

“No, eet ees da right size. Stop worrying,” he says. OK. I stop.

“Patty, I love you. Even when you do bad in game,” I say.

“You are not sympathetic. You won da game,” he points out. He’s right, actually.

“You right. I love you anyway?”

“I love you, too. Dat’s always good.”

I kiss him and I feel all warm and fuzzy inside.