Shares

The one about…the stinky tongue

Jean-Francois was ready when the question as asked.

“You want stories, oh I’ve got stories,” he laughed, moments after sitting down to join us for breakfast Sunday morning.

“We were playing junior together in PEI,” said JF. “We got creamed the night before by Rimouski and we weren’t supposed to practice the next morning, we were supposed to travel to Bathurst, but Alain Vigneault, he was our coach back then, wasn’t too pleased with our performance so he made us skate the next morning.

“He didn’t think we were tough enough the night before, so he made us do all contact drills in practice. We were doing this one drill and I was going up against one of our big goons and next thing you know I’ve got a puddle of blood in my mouth. I didn’t know what was going on so I went back to the line and Max told me I didn’t look too good. I opened my mouth to talk but I had bit through my tongue and I had no tongue left. They had to stitch it back together.”

The table fell silent.

Yuck.

Then Maxim Lapierre chimed in with the icky details.

“I used to pick him up for practice from his billets house and when we were driving in the morning, we had to put the windows down and put our heads out of the car because it was so stinky,” roared Lapierre.

“He couldn’t open his mouth because of the stitches and it was infected and he couldn’t brush his teeth. It was terrible. It was that stinky.”

Added Jean-Francois: “That’s a story for all you ladies at home.”