Work Text:
SHANE: You just gotta take it one game at a time. One shift at a time. One microsecond at a time. One breath of the universe at a time. One infinity at a time.
Welcome to Centaur Vale.
ILYA: Today’s story happened yesterday.
The Dionysian Mystery Chalice was carried in grand procession through our city, to mark another passing year. Listeners, I don’t have to tell you what happens on our most sacred holiday. How an offering is made to the Hockey Gods, along with our hopes and wishes for the coming year. No one knows what the offering will be until it is made…and no one knows afterward, either, as people forget what was offered and has now gone missing.
We all remember past years, and some things that might once have been. We maybe had a respected logo for our hockey team, instead of this…terrible horse man. Or a meaningful goalie helmet, with artwork to honor indigenous heritage. Or, that one year, a whole arena.
Sometimes, things stay forgotten. That is good…after all, the mysteries are the mysteries. Sometimes it’s hard for an entire city to forget a huge fucking stadium. Even one so far outside the city that no one wants to drive out to it, because it’s so fucking inconvenient. Anyway. We may never know what was sacrificed yesterday. We can only be glad that our offering was accepted.
Listeners, I drank from the Cup, the same as all of you. Probably more than you. Maybe a lot more. I don’t remember much after the pretty tulips and the McDonald’s. But I have this feeling that something important is missing.
I know, it’s wrong to think about this. The mysteries are the mysteries. No one wants to anger the Hockey Gods. But still I have this feeling. Like wiggling a tongue against a loose tooth. This morning, I looked in the mirror at my mama’s cross, and on the chain, there was…a ring.
I don’t remember this ring.
And now, A Word from Our Sponsors.
HARRIS: Hi. This is Harris Drover, of Drover Family Orchards. Today’s show is brought to you by Drover Family U-Pick, where it’s all about the apple ‘you pick.’
It’s a perfect day for apple pie. You use your grandmother’s recipe, handwritten on a worn index card; the one with no measurements or oven temperature. The secret ingredient is molasses.
To make the perfect pie, you need the perfect apple. Drover Family U-Pick is where you pick that apple.
You twist the stem and tear the fruit from its life-giving branch. You sink your teeth in to gouge the tender flesh, masticating slowly as you consider the flavor.
This isn’t the perfect apple. It isn’t your apple. You drop it callously to the ground and move on to the next tree.
Behind you, birds descend in a dark, ominous flock to peck at the fallen fruit. Ants march forward to suck at the sweet juice bleeding from the wound. A worm wriggles inside...or was it always there? Was it there when you bit into the apple? Where is the worm now? What have you done to its home? What will the worm do to your home, in revenge?
This message was brought to you by Drover Family U-Pick: Wholesome fun for the whole family.
ILYA: Listeners, I can't stop wondering what went missing. Since everyone is too hungover for real news today, I’m opening up the phone lines. Tell us if a landmark vanished. Did someone boring leave your life? We’ll figure it out.
Caller, you've reached Centaur Vale Community Radio.
DALLAS: Rozanov, I have a bone to pick with you.
ILYA: Oh, we have an asshole.
DALLAS: You have no right! No fucking right to spread that malicious lie that that jealous backstabbing bastard Barrett made up.
ILYA: How is it a lie when you have five women saying the same things Troy did?
DALLAS: Those bitches—
ILYA: Not very creative, are you, Dallas Kent?
DALLAS: How dare you—?
ILYA: I'm not giving a platform to rapist pieces of shit.
DALLAS: [begins to scream before the line goes dead]
ILYA: Sorry about that, everyone! Luca, block Kent's number and reroute him to Management if he calls again.
LUCA: You got it, boss!
ILYA: Luca Haas, you're the best intern in the entire station.
LUCA: I'm the only intern you have.
ILYA: Listeners, I am getting a call from brave grandpa Scott Hunter. On my own phone, not the radio line. Probably it’s the wrong number and his phone is too smart for him. I will put it on speaker.
Hunter! Why is the best-preserved mummy in the league calling me?
SCOTT: Rozanov. Kip just told me you’re on the radio, talking about Ottawa’s cup parade. I don’t know how he’s even tuned in to a Canadian radio station.
ILYA: Internet, Hunter, even you have heard of this. Podcast format, broadcasts world-wide. You know about podcasts? Does Kip teach you this?
SCOTT: I know what a podcast is, asshole. I listen to a lot of true crime.
ILYA: This is the most interesting thing I have heard about you, including what Kip told me about your honeymoon. You are a secret serial killer?
SCOTT: No! Anyway, if I was, I wouldn’t tell you about it. Boasting, baiting law enforcement, and keeping trophies are how a lot of those guys get caught. I’d want a signature, though. Something like bog bodies.
ILYA: Bog…?
SCOTT: Yeah, it’s like a natural way to chemically preserve corpses. The bones dissolve, but soft tissues, skin, and hair survive. Even facial expressions in death. Hang on…Kip just asked if I knew I was saying this on your radio show.
ILYA: Broadcasting world-wide.
SCOTT: God help us all. Since when do you have a podcast?
ILYA: Since the move to Ottawa. Part of the contract: Team captain hosts the community radio show.
SCOTT: Look, I was calling to say the Admirals won the cup this year. I know you know this. You texted me to suggest I put my dentures in it, when it was my day with the cup.
ILYA: Very funny of me, I know. But no, that is the other cup. This is Dionysian Mystery Chalice. Not the same.
SCOTT: I guess it works out, since the real cup never comes to Ottawa.
ILYA: We are coming for it next year. Then we will have two cups and you will have none.
Hunter, listen, I have lost something important. Do you know anything about this ring?
SCOTT: No, man. I've never seen you wearing one. Come to think of it, though, you did keep touching something under your shirt, last time we met.
ILYA: This ring is a plain black band. Gold on the inside. Engagement ring, maybe?
SCOTT: It sounds like congratulations are in order, then. You know, you stop by the Kingfisher whenever you’re in town, but I’ve never seen anyone with you. Honestly, you usually seem pretty…lonely.
ILYA: There should be someone attached to this ring, I think. Is that what is missing this year? A person?
SCOTT: I dunno, man. Your crazy Ottawa cup stuff makes no sense to me. Good luck with it.
ILYA: Goodbye, bog body Scott Hunter. Tell Kip I am younger and prettier and not at all lonely.
Now, best goalie in the league Wyatt Hayes with the Traffic.
WYATT: Hey, thanks, man. Let me know if you want help trying to figure out what’s up with the mysteries this year. I’m not a big puzzle guy, but you never know, sometimes an outside perspective can help. Another outside perspective, I guess, you did get some phone calls. Don’t know how helpful they were. And look—before you say anything, I promise I didn’t mean to spy on your cell phone earlier when we grabbed breakfast, but you’re usually getting all those texts from Jane, right, they’re pretty hard to miss? And I didn’t see any today. Not even one. So maybe you’re missing that outsider view more than usual! Speaking of which—what I’m actually here for! Outsider view on traffic.
Well, there’s a big pileup at the blue line. Pretty typical for this time of day, honestly, take care when going around it. It looks like it’s being cleaned up pretty quickly, but might be best to steer clear anyway, you never want to get mixed up in that kind of scuffle if you can avoid it.
Down by me, the traffic is pretty light. Quiet night over here so far, which has its pros and cons. I mean, visibility is great, so that’s helpful. But you know that feeling you get when you’re driving somewhere really familiar? Maybe you drive the same way every time you go to work, or to visit your parents, or to wander aimlessly through the suburbs, waiting and hoping for something to grow and change in front of you like we all do? And you’re so very used to it, and you get to work and can’t remember anything you did while driving, and you hope it was normal. It must have been normal, right? If it wasn’t, you’d know. You’d know… wouldn’t you? So, anyway, sometimes it’s nice to get a little commotion in front of you to wake you up and keep you sharp.
Why is being sharp the same as being alert? A needle is just a tool, it’s not really alert at all. I don’t know if porcupines are all that alert, either, to be honest. Of course, it’s hard to know when no one has ever seen a porcupine up close and lived to tell the tale. But then again—HEY! Watch it, man! Don’t go parking yourself in my personal space, there are lines for a reason! Jeez. Glad he’s gone. To listeners, remember that safe stopping distance is a lot further away than you think from whoever is in front of you. Inertia is real, and you don’t want to crash into the guy in front of you because you forgot about physics.
There’s some stop and go happening in the neutral zone at the moment, with movement in both directions being affected. No one is crossing the line at the moment but it could develop into a real shut-down if the guys can’t pick up steam out there.
Someone asked me the other day what superhero would make the best goalie. It’s a complicated question, in my opinion. Would the league allow someone with superpowers to play? Would inherent superpowers be allowed, but not ones coming from an outside object? Would the Hulk still need to wear pads and a mask? Anyway, they got bored before I came up with an answer, but I think it’s probably Wonder Woman.
Oh! Someone’s speeding into the O-zone—don’t worry, he’s in full control, no handling issues to speak of. He’s found a nice open lane, making a sharp U-turn to set someone else up to pass, and—ah. Stopped down at the other end. As everyone wheels around to head back to their normal routine, the other goalie is giving his crossbar a kiss. It’s always nice to see that kind of thing out on the road, just a reminder that everyone else is their own person with their own little habits even as you watch everyone rushing past each other.
That’s all for traffic.
ILYA: Thank you, Hazy. Wow, we are so popular today, everyone is calling. Who is this?
SVETLANA: Ilya Grigorivich, what the hell is going on here? I know you like to do some elaborate nonsense but this is too much even from you.
I know you want to keep the engagement a secret–though that ring is too beautiful to remain on your neck–but it's one thing to do this to prevent poor Jane from getting, how you say, overwhelmed by well wishers, but this? No, something strange is happening.
Even worse—you didn’t send me my daily Anya update! You know I can’t have a dog in my building! I need to vicariously live through you!
What happened, Ilyusha? I'm worried about you.
ILYA: What do you mean I have a dog named Anya? I have never had one in my life! My father, he— Sveta, I— I’m taking this off the air, but I’m not leaving you listeners alone.
Here’s Rose Landry with Horoscopes.
ROSE: Hi. I'm Rose. I'm here to read your horoscope.
No one remembers when I was born. I sprang to life fully grown, like Athena from Zeus's head. One day you'd never heard of me, and the next day, you knew everything about me. You had opinions about everything I said and did; what I wore; who I spent time with. You understood me better than anyone else. We became parasocial besties overnight.
You probably want to hear your horoscope. I'll do mine first. That only seems fair.
Ophiuchus. The serpent bearer. Your intuition will lead you to the heart of the truth, even when it hurts you. You won't always feel like a chapter in someone else's story. You're destined to write your own story. In your version, you won’t get kidnapped.
Gemini. Be more mindful of your diet. You don’t need that extra McGriddle. You know what he’d say, if he were here. Have you found him yet? Don't give up on him now. You'll never forgive yourself if you do.
Cancer. Some people might consider you past your prime, but secretly, you're kind of a superhero. Actually, it's not that much of a secret. Pretty much everyone knows. And you look good in Spandex. If I'd known you a few years ago, I probably would have dated you. You're definitely my type.
Leo. Enjoy brunch with your friends. This is your moment to shine. Put on a show. You're the star of brunch.
Virgo. You should enjoy brunch too! Though, diners with laminated menus are more your speed. Does everything here have powdered sugar sprinkled on it? Why is everyone wearing scarves?
Libra. Consider your life. Consider your choices. Consider letting the Ottawa Centaurs do the Buzzfeed puppy interview. Think of social media. Think of the engagement. Think of the puppies.
Scorpio. Communication is really blocked for you today. You’re not listening to what the universe is putting down. It’s just a waste of energy. So is this. You’re not going to listen anyway.
Sagittarius. You’d probably love to be invited to brunch, but you’d get in your own head about being too uncool for it. You can’t picture yourself relaxing on a patio and sipping a mimosa. You’re going to talk yourself out of it, but you’d probably have a pretty good time.
Capricorn. This month’s full moon is the Strawberry Moon. It’s a lucky one for you. These are some unlucky months for you: Wolf Moon. Snow Moon. Harvest Moon. Tarantula Moon. Panopticon Moon. Existential Dread Moon.
Aquarius.
Goosey goosey gander,
Champion backhander,
On the ice and in the crease,
No soulmate shall escape the geese.
Honking ever coarser,
Feathery enforcer,
Try to flee your fated cords,
A goose will check you through the boards.
Pisces. Whoever said ‘man cannot live on bread alone’ clearly didn’t have your imagination. Pancakes. Biscuits. Bagels. Scones. French toast. Avocado toast. Breakfast sandwiches. You could go to brunch and never leave. Ever.
Aries. Do not pass beneath the Golden Arches, or you will never return. Let the raccoon win.
Taurus. Are you out there? Can you hear me? Do you remember us? Where did you go?
LUCA: Hey Roz, that blocked caller is back.
ILYA: Reroute him to Management.
LUCA: Management said to put him back on.
ILYA: Management said?
LUCA: Management—
ILYA: Haasy, step closer to your mic. We gave you one for a reason.
LUCA: Sorry. Um, Management said that this was actually a guy named Kent Parson, not Dallas Kent. So he should be allowed back.
ILYA: Who the fuck is Kent Parson?
LUCA: I don't know. I think it's some blond guy from the Las Vegas Aces with an inability to move on from a toxic, codependent relationship from an old Juniors buddy.
ILYA: Uh…
LUCA: It wasn't easy for Jack to carry his father's legacy around, weighing like an albatross around his neck. Kent, I know you're hurt, but lingering on something that happened when you were a teenager is not healthy either, bud. You don't need to throw Bitty—
ILYA: Luca!
LUCA: Oh, I'm sorry. Don't know what happened there. Um, am I good to transfer the call?
ILYA: You good?
LUCA: Yeah, I'm fine. Everything is fine. That was a little weird—maybe that alternate universe escaped the storage closet. But Management is going to get angry if you don't entertain this guy.
ILYA: Sure, put this "Kent Parson" on.
Caller, you've reached Centaur Vale Community Radio.
DALLAS: FINALLY! You self-righteous prick. You think that because you were the captain of the Boston Bears—
ILYA: Raiders.
DALLAS: Then the goddamn Boston Raiders—
ILYA: You mean the Bears, dipshit.
DALLAS: Bears, Raiders, who fucking cares? I—
ILYA: If you drop another ‘fuck’ over the air, I'm going to have to hang up and block you from calling in again.
DALLAS: You just said fuck, you goddamn—!
ILYA: Oops, I'm sorry, but you violated our station's code of conduct by saying fuck over the air. You'll now be blocked from all future calls until the heat death of the universe.
We don't need that fucker anyway. So sorry to have your ears ruined with naughty words. Management finds that kind of fucking language intolerable, as only men with receding hairlines, helmet acne, and tiny cocks say those motherfucking phrases so carelessly.
LUCA: Uh…Roz…
ILYA: We don't tolerate bullshit here at the station, and please accept my deepest apologies for the simply disgusting, abhorrent language coming from a spoiled little boy who ignores anyone who tells him no. Get fucked, Kent.
Time for The Weather.
Stepped on the ice
Something caught my attention
Up in the rafters of the barn
Little brown shape
Flickering glimpse of movement
Atop the darkened jumbotron
Wings
Fluttering
Peekin' down
Watching me, watching you!
Mystery bird!
Wonder how you got up there?
All lines are blurred
When you're in the rink somewhere
And now I
Can't forget you
Up higher than the nosebleeds
Can birds be fans of hockey too?
D'you want to play?
Or would you rather go home?
Is someone waitin' up for you?
Round
Nondescript
Little guy
Snuck inside, stuck with us
Mystery bird!
Wonder how you got up there?
All lines are blurred
When you're in the rink somewhere
Mystery bird!
Wonder how you got up there?
Mystery bird!
Now you're in the rink somewhere
Mystery bird!
Wonder how you got up there?
ILYA: Welcome back, listeners. For anyone just tuning in, today we are solving a missing persons case. There is a ring I don’t remember, and apparently I am not getting enough texts from someone named Jane.
There’s another caller now. I hope they’re more helpful than the last one. Hello, who is this?
ZANE: Hello, listeners. Welcome to Barbecue with Bood. On today’s episode, we’ll discuss a common backyard hazard: pit barbecue. Earth ovens are a tasty way to prepare meats and root vegetables, but they’re not without their pitfalls.
It’s important to dig deep. Keep branches and broad, thick leaves on hand to trap the smoke and camouflage the hole. Line your barbecue pit with smooth wood or stone, so nothing that falls in can escape. Cover the bottom with sharpened stakes. The pointy ends will take care of the exsanguination, so you can focus on what really matters: the right rub.
ILYA: Bood. This is not an audition tape, you cannot call in to a live radio show with your own segment.
ZANE: Roz, the people deserve to make dynamite piri piri. Do you know how essential a malagueta pepper can be? I have this whole segment ready on the history of the horno that I…
ILYA: You cannot fucking say ‘horno’ on live radio. And no ‘right rubbing’, either.
ZANE: Come on, Cap, you let Hazy do the traffic.
ILYA: Traffic is relevant and Hazy never goes off-topic. Very focused. Since you are here, though: You are on my team. We see each other every day. What do you know about Jane?
ZANE: Nothing. I mean…the ring is pretty new. A couple of guys asked about it, but you wouldn’t give them a straight answer. We figured it was related to wherever you run off to all the time. Maybe why you came to Ottawa in the first place.
ILYA: What do you mean, I run off?
ZANE: Every off-day. Sometimes on half-days, too. It’s even odds whether you’ll make an optional skate. You’re gone all summer to some mystery spot. As soon as our season ends—which is a lot later than it used to, thanks to you—we don’t see you until the next pre-season. We don’t know where you go, but you miss most of the team hangouts. That’s probably why you don’t appreciate my barbecue tips. And…look, I don’t know if I should say this on the air.
ILYA: Tell me. Right now, this is the most important thing.
ZANE: Okay. We’ve never said anything, because we respect your privacy. But we have been over to your place, you know. The whole team has. And it kinda looks like…well. Like you don’t live alone there. Only you’ve never mentioned a partner. Roz, are you sure you want to go down this road? It’s the day after the Cup Parade. The mysteries are the mysteries.
ILYA: I… need time to think about this. Bood, thank you. You are still not getting a cooking feature on my show.
ILYA: In a slight change of our usual corrections corner, we have a few announcements from Management.
Cука блядь, иди на хуй! Dallas Kent has submitted an appeal to return as a caller. Management would like to remind both staff and listeners that Troy Barrett's accusations have not been verified by a court of law. Management maintains that all are innocent until proven guilty.
The New York Admirals, Boston Raiders—wait, sorry, Bears—Montreal Metros—sorry, Voyageurs—and Ottawa Centaurs are pooling resources for an on-ice bounty for Dallas Kent. First player, and yes that includes you, goalies, to get Kent onto the LTIR list for the Toronto Maple Guardians wins the pot. The winner will receive a gold chain that will enhance the blessings of any charms, crucifixes, and iconography you already have. Please note that if you've been cursed, the chain will also amplify whatever you've been hexed with.
Good luck out there!
Ottawa's senators have declared that the local hockey team is now safe from a small family of American rats declaring the country as the 51st state. The last remaining member of the Tkchkchkchks, pronounced ka-chuckle-fucks, family, who declared himself captain of the legislative body, has been exiled to Florida. While the Centaurs are unsure why there was ever a talking rat and how it relates to our hockey team, they welcome the good news anyway. They are proud to announce that the Ottawa metro area joins Alberta as a rat-free region of Canada.
Ilya: Haasy!
Luca: Roz?
Ilya: Learn something new today. Take the rest of the corrections.
Luca: Uh…
Ilya: You're the rookie. I have to teach you something.
Luca: I don't know about this. I really don't have a radio voice.
Ilya: And that's why you're taking the rest of this. You just have to drive to the goal and get that puck deep.
Luca: What does a hockey puck—
Ilya: Luca.
Luca: Sounds good!
And now our corrections.
Reports that Metros head coach Theriault and Cens head coach Wiebe are engaged in a verbal feud have been greatly exaggerated. While the two of them have been previously seen arguing about the treatment of a player, no one knows the player’s name. Neither Theriault nor Wiebe recall but maintain an extreme dislike for each other.
The O-Track Line 1 is not the railway that is currently closed for repairs. That is O-Track Line 4. I repeat, the repairs are for O-Track Line 4. If you see signs for a Line 3, please immediately vacate the area. You have slipped into a pocket dimension and must return within 81 seconds of entering. I repeat, return to your original entry to Line 3 within 24 seconds of entering the pocket dimension unless you want to be stuck in the liminal space.
LUCA: Oh, whoops, there's some papers stuck together. There’s another new correction.
ILYA: Haasy, you need to have the corrections in before I start the segment.
LUCA: I know, I know. But it seems important, you know?
ILYA: …Fine. You did a good job. I'll take it over from here.
LUCA: Uh, wait. There's two. Not sure how that second piece of paper got there but it's two.
ILYA: Luca.
LUCA: Won't happen again, Roz!
ILYA: First new correction.
Mr. 24 would like Mr. 81 to know that loons are not stupid wolf-birds and he resents any implication otherwise. If Mr. 81 taps his bicep tattoo four times, which by the way is a fucking loon, he can speak to Mr. 24 about it further.
Listeners, I try not to comment on things like this but clearly, this was supposed to go into our missed connections. Our intern Luca is going to need some retraining about what material goes where in our program before Management starts handing out warnings.
LUCA: Don't you have a loon bicep tattoo?
ILYA: No.
LUCA: And a bear tattoo? On your chest and everything.
ILYA: Why would I have a bear on my chest? I know I'm Russian, but even that's too much of a stereotype for me.
LUCA: Huh.
ILYA: And now for our last correction.
Hayden Pike, terrible Montreal Voyageurs player and suspected Mormon—Christ, you have so many kids—has always been a center. Any stats sheet or roster that has listed him as a wing for the Metros is incorrect. There has never been a time he has been a winger, in any life, and especially not to…a beautifully freckled—
What is this?
I can’t think on an empty stomach. Haasy, important intern duty: Fetch a McGriddle. Maybe two. And a milkshake. Wait, put the next caller through before you go…ah, too late. That kid really is fast on skates. Let me see here… Caller? Ah! No, no, no. Wrong button. How does this…? Hello?
HAYDEN: Hey man, it’s Hayden Pike from the Metros. Fuck, I mean, the Voyageurs. Really don’t appreciate the chirping when we’re not even playing a game. Montreal is weird enough today.
You know I got a call from JJ this morning? He asked me about a Capitaine, and I said that must be him, right? Because he’s our captain. And then we started talking about that third goal from game five, but neither of us could remember it right. I know I shot the puck towards JJ, who tipped it in for the goal. But who set me up with the pass? Plus, I play center, right? Like you said. Why do I only remember taking, like, two face-offs all season?
Why am I even telling you this? Why am I listening to a radio show from fucking Ottawa? My car was tuned into this when I got in, and I turned it on in the gym without even thinking. It’s like I’m brainwashed to listen to your shit-talking when I could be jamming out to Carly Rae Jepsen.
That isn’t why I called, though. Tell me why there are photos of you on my phone, hanging out with my kids? I don’t even know you, man. It’s fucking weird. Shit, can I say that on the radio? Okay look, I’ve gotta go. Jackie wants to know why our fridge is full of Canada Dry, and I don’t know what to tell her.
Stop talking shit about me on the radio, asshole!
ILYA: As useless as Pike is, we are getting closer to something. It’s right there. I can almost feel it on the tip of my tongue.
Haasy, take over for a few minutes, I want to… Huh. He must not be back yet. I didn’t think that would take so long. I wonder…wait. What’s this? Someone slipped a report under the door. There are grease spots on the paper. Why does this smell like French fries?
Oh, no.
Listeners, some bad news concerning our station intern, Luca Haas.
While inside the McDonald’s, placing an order for two McGriddles and a strawberry milkshake, Luca was challenged to a caricature drawing competition by three raccoons wearing a trench coat.
After winning the contest, Luca was appointed director-in-chief of the Golden Arches Trash Panda Art Institute. There is no word on when his term might end. The raccoons say it may be indefinite.
I guess I’ll handle the calls myself. There’s another one coming in now. I hope this one is nicer.
ILYA: Caller, you've reached Centaur Vale Community Radio.
DALLAS: Roz— [screams]
ILYA: I told you, Dallas Kent, I don't give a platform to rapist pieces of shit.
To cleanse our airways: The Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner.
DAVID: David Hollander here, to tell everyone a few things about loons. Now, some people believe that loons are birds. That’s a common misconception, but it isn’t true. We know from history that birds were exterminated by the government between 1959 and 1971, and replaced with surveillance drones to keep us all safe. Every one of those beady little eyes is a camera, watching over us.
Loons appear on our money, which is why we call a one-dollar coin a ‘loonie.’ Well, I don’t, personally, but then I work for the treasury. Loons have several distinct calls. One of them is the tremolo. That’s a good one to remember if you’re into crossword puzzles. My wife and I have a cottage near Ottawa, and we’d hear loon calls sometimes on family trips, when we’d take our…
Huh. Sorry, I don’t remember who I was talking about just then. I must have meant Ilya. Yuna and I joke that he’s like the son we never had.
Back to loons. The name comes from the same root word as ‘lummox’, meaning clumsy or awkward. You could call out to a loon, ‘Watch where you’re going, you great lummox!’ Only I wouldn’t, because of the government surveillance and all.
Loons have red eyes and night-vision cameras. They prowl around lakes at night on sharp-clawed feet, howling at the moon. They hunt in packs to take down larger prey, and can move swiftly, even in deep snow. They’re apex predators. ‘Apex’ is a good science word. It means none of us are safe.
Well, I hope you’ve enjoyed these fun facts, children. Now back to you, Ilya.
ILYA: Listeners, I have been thinking. The shape of what is missing—the person that is missing—is someone very close to me. A partner who sometimes lives with me, who has a permanent place in my life. I miss him when I travel to New York and we are apart. We are engaged to be married. I wear his ring on a chain next to my mama’s cross.
Also, someone is missing in Montreal—Hayden Pike, fifteenth best Metro, is not the Voyageurs first line center. He does not keep ginger ale in his house for other teammates. And Boizeau is not the team captain.
I think these are the same person.
Maybe I have kept this hidden because it’s not safe to love this person, out loud, in our world. But if he was taken—if he was the sacrifice chosen by our Hockey Gods, it is because he belongs here. He is building a future here in Ottawa, with me. We are making a home.
Listeners, there are things I remember—distant memories, like waking up from a dream. Loons on a lake, outside a cottage. A bed with too many pillows. Freckles.
I think… if we all remember together—different things, every piece like a jigsaw puzzle… I believe we can bring him back. Think of a memory you might have of this person. Remember who beat me for Rookie of the Year. Who plays against me in Montreal, who plays with me at All-Star Games. Who runs charity hockey camps with me. Who keeps a place for me, somewhere we can be together. If you have other memories, think of them now.
Are you thinking of him? Do you remember?
Listeners. Someone is calling.
SHANE: Ilya?
ILYA: Shane. Oh my god, Shane. I remember now. I remember everything.
SHANE: I can’t believe you forgot me. You’re such an asshole.
ILYA: This is not my fault. Only very boring people get themselves sacrificed to Hockey Gods and end up…wait. Where are you?
SHANE: Uh, I’m on the O-Train. Line 3, I think? Yeah, I see a sign.
ILYA: Shane. O-Track Line 3 is a pocket dimension. This was said on the radio.
SHANE: It definitely wasn’t. You said Line 4 was closed for repairs!
ILYA: Line 1 is closed for repairs; Line 3…never mind. Sweetheart, stay where you are. I am coming for you.
SHANE: Okay.
ILYA: Okay. Fuck, I miss you. I’ll be there soon.
Listeners, I need to go.
Stay tuned for secret messages spelled out in tulips blooming along the Rideau Canal in shades of mauve and yearning.
Good game, listeners. I love you.
NARRATOR: Welcome to Centaur Vale was originally conceived by AirgiodSLV and created for Pod-Together 2026.
Cold Opening and Traffic were written by deepestbluesky. Corrections and Calls by Dallas Kent and Svetlana Vetrova were written by Meteotsunami. Main Story and Finale, A Word From Our Sponsors, Horoscopes, Intern Update, Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner, and Calls by Scott Hunter, Zane Boodram, and Shane Hollander were written by AirgiodSLV. Proverb and additional contributions by Meliager. The Weather was “Mystery Bird”, written and performed by minnabird.
Shane Hollander was played by dairaliz. Ilya Rozanov was played by wilfriede0815. Harris Drover was played by sunlightsymphony. Luca Haas was played by Freitzeit. Dallas Kent was played by deepestbluesky. Scott Hunter was played by MistbornHero. Wyatt Hayes was played by celli. Svetlana Vetrova was played by edible_chemistry. Rose Landry was played by xia pods. Zane Boodram was played by sisi_rambles. Hayden Pike was played by semperfiona. David Hollander was played by AirgiodSLV. Credits and Proverb read by vexbatch.
Soundscaping and beta work by deepestbluesky, wilfriede0815, and AirgiodSLV. Cover art by semperfiona.
NARRATOR: Today’s proverb: We just had to go out there and play our game, and we didn't. I don't know whose game we played. If you find them, let me know so we can give it back.