Exterior: THE OOKIES, looking remarkably like D.B. Sweeney, step off a bus on a desolate stretch of highway in Minnesota after a long absence.
They look nervous, almost squeamish, as they take a long look across the highway at their final destination. The camera cuts away from their face to show the end of their long journey is a rough-edged bar called IPB’s Penalty Box.
The camera cuts back to THE OOKIES as they swallow hard, build up their confidence, and start toward the bar.
Interior: The bar is packed and hopping. Some good ol’ boy rock ‘n’ roll is blaring from the jukebox and trays of longnecks are being slung around by buxom, hockey-lovin’ barmaids. Mullets abound. THE OOKIES sneak tentatively in the door, glancing about, hoping no one will notice they’ve arrived.
The camera pans the crowd a bit, then settles behind the bar on THE OOKIES’ conscience, a burly guy who bears a striking resemblance to WALT DORSEY, Doug “Machine” Dorsey’s brother in “The Cutting Edge”.
A foxy BARMAID notices THE OOKIES, leaps up from where she has been toiling to draw drafts for the festive crowd, and squeals with delight.
BARMAID: Ookies? She runs to THE OOKIES and embraces them, seeing as how they look like D.B. Sweeney. OOKIES!
Another girl, this one faceless and uncredited in the film, races over to fling herself into THE OOKIES’ arms, too. WALT pushes his way through the crowd and gruffly but kindly chatsizes the women.
WALT: Okay, okay, let ‘em come up for air here. C’mon…
WALT and THE OOKIES face each other, WALT happily and THE OOKIES nervously, reunited after a long time apart.
WALT: I’ll be a son of a bitch!
THE OOKIES look for a moment like they are about to puke copiously…
…But then THE OOKIES and WALT embrace heartily.
WALT, after the embrace is broken: Man, it’s good to see you.
THE OOKIES, sounding hesitant and awkward: Yeah, it’s good to see you too.
WALT, jubilantly announcing to the rest of the bar: Hey! My Devils bloggers, the Ookies! Home from the Merchant Marine!
The bar erupts into applause as the crowd celebrates the return of their beloved Devils bloggers to the fold. WALT claps THE OOKIES heartily on the back and grins from ear to ear.
WALT: What, when you joined the Merchant Marine did you forget how to use the phone? To the crowd blocking the way to the bar: Move back, move back. C’mon! Cruisin’ all over the world and they can’t even get to the bar! Hey, hey! “Ensign Ookies”! No, no… “Lieutenant” — “CAPTAIN Ookies”!
THE OOKIES look increasingly uncomfortable.
THE OOKIES, leaning toward WALT and speaking sotto voce: Cool it with the… uh… Merchant Marine.
WALT, confused: What? He hushes the noisy crowd, then turns to THE OOKIES. What?
THE OOKIES, squirming: I didn’t join the Merchant Marine.
The bar is silent, but for a COMEDIC OLD GUY WITH BEARD. The crowd stands behind WALT and THE OOKIES’ confrontation, pressing forward to hear the exchange.
COMEDIC OLD GUY WITH BEARD, hilariously deaf: Still got your sea legs, Ookies?
WALT hushes him angrily, then turns back to THE OOKIES.
WALT: Well if you weren’t with the Merchant Marine, then where the hell were you?
THE OOKIES, tortured, throw an arm over WALT’S shoulder, plaster on a false smile for the crowd to see, and speak just to WALT through clenched teeth.
THE OOKIES: Let’s go outside to talk about this, okay?
THE CROWD: What’re they saying? We’re all family here!
GUY IN CROWD WITH GLASSES: Tell us about it! Tell us about it!
OOKIES spluttering pathetically to WALT: Well…
WALT, spreading his arms to indicate that THE CROWD is right, and they are all family here, and he’s eager to hear the exciting news of where THE OOKIES have been all this time: C’mon. Tell me now!
The camera pans THE CROWD and we see many eagerly expectant faces, as one voice is heard in the background, “C’mon Machine.” The camera pans back to THE OOKIES, and they look despondently resigned.
THE OOKIES: Well… actually… it’s… kinda interestin’.
More panning the crowd as THE OOKIES stall.
BURLY BEARDED GUY, growing anxious: Tell him!
THE OOKIES, sighing heavily, stammering uncontrollably: We’ve been… we… well… we’ve been… watchin’ a little Flyers.
THE CROWD is stunned.
CROSS-EYED DUDE IN GLASSES: Daaaaaaamn.
WALT is puzzled.
WALT: You been doing what?
QUERULOUS, BEFUDDLED OLD GUY, OFF-CAMERA: Finger paintin’???
GUY IN CROWD WITH GLASSES, chortling with condescension and pity: Oh-hum-hum!
Exterior, out behind the bar. WALT and THE OOKIES are finally getting to talk about this outside, away from THE CROWD.
THE OOKIES, pleading and explaining at the same time: These Flyers. They’re just so appealing!
WALT, not having any of it: Appealing at what?
THE OOKIES, pacing like a spectacularly bad actor unsure of what to do: At… at… it doesn’t matter! They’re fun to watch! Walter, they’re fun… you just don’t understand.
WALT, attempting to make some peace: Was it me? Was it something I did?
THE OOKIES, defiant: We’re tellin’ you, they’re fun.
WALT, thinking of THE OOKIES’ mental well-being: C’mon Ookies, you’re Devils fans. How fun can they be? Heavy sigh. Look, face it. If you’re lucky, a year from now you’ll be wearing orange and black face paint, throwing batteries at Santa Claus.
THE OOKIES: You know us better than that! You think we’ve been Center Ice subscribers for 13 years just to take on the personae of the douchebag fans of secondary teams we start watching? We’re talking about Mike Richards! Jeff Carter! Gazillions of shorthanded goals and sassy, uptempo games!
WALT: That’s it! It’s the hotties! You got mixed up with these… these hotties! That’s it, isn’t it?
THE OOKIES: It’s a cute team!
WALT: It’s THE FLYERS!
THE OOKIES, snapping: AND WE LIKE IT!!!
WALT is horrified.
There is a long silence as THE OOKIES’ words resonate through the cold night.
THE OOKIES, determined: It’s a lot goddamned different than watchin’ the Devils. We don’t care if they lose. We don’t actually want them to win. It’s just about liking the personality of the team, enjoying watching some cute players, not being wound up in the end result of everything all the time. It’s about having a team that we don’t need everything to be serious for. They’re fun. They’re fresh. They’re different. You’ll see.
WALT, after a very long, contemplative silence: Are they going to make you kill puppies?
THE OOKIES: Screw this. We don’t even know why we bothered…
WALT cracks up.