Last night, I fell asleep with a rerun Criminal Minds playing on my TV. This probably tells you a little too much about me already. If you have never seen the show, it's a procedural drama that involves FBI profilers hunting for serial killers, generally, with their various quirks of victimology or methodology. They use the term "un-sub" quite frequently.
So that was my state of mind as I drifted off to sleep. In my little dream world I recall receiving a phone call from the sheriff (I live in a large enough town that we have a police department. This, apparently, was a county matter). Did I hear that Kevin Schultz was DEAD? What about Ryan Boyd, my fellow writer at Ice Insiders? DEAD. MURDERED. BOTH MURDERED.
It became apparent to me, just as it had to the police, that there was a serial killer going after hockey bloggers. They took down two guys that I worked with closely over the years. I MUST BE NEXT. Then it came. A knock on the door. Could it be? Had the killer come for me? Feeling rather cavalier about the whole thing, I opened the door, and waiting there was.... Loser Domi?
"They're coming to kill us!" She said. I remain confused as to how she found me, because she now lives in the mythical land of Tampa Bay. Regardless, she knew what was up. Someone was killing hockey bloggers. That someone was coming after us.
"Come inside! They will never find us here" I assured her.
After she came in my house, she said "Why wouldn't the killer be able to find you in your home? Besides, you live on a main road."
In waking consciousness, I realize how silly it was that, if she found these flaws in hiding at my house, then why did she try it? Anyways, at this point, someone was trying to break into my house though my glass patio doors. It was the killer! It was....
Wyshynski! Wait... Wyshysnki?
Anyways. That's when I woke up. The offseason can't end soon enough.
PS, I fell back asleep and dreamt that my girlfriend was pregnant. Infinitely more terrifying.