A letter from Sean Avery



Dear internet fuckwads,

Guess who’s back? Avery’s back. Tell a friend.

 

 

I guess you needed me after all, didn’t you, Torts? I know Tortorella hates it when I call him Torts, so I’mma keep doing it.  You sent me down to the whale? IN HARTFORD?  You guys know how I feel about whales.  You know I have a strict “no fatties” rule.

But it’s good to be back with the Rangers again. I’m very thankful for this opportunity, because I love New York.  I am very glad to get another chance with the organization, as opposed to getting stuck in some backwater place like the KHL or worse, Columbus.

I know Torts only called me back up because Mike Rupp’s knee is hurt.  Word of advice to Rupper: use some kneepads when you’re blowing dudes in back of the Wendy’s.  Glass and stones can hurt—that’s what Taffy and Kira tell me, anyway.  I mean, you’re getting 1.5 million a year for 3 years.  I don’t know what you had at the Devils, but that’s not a half bad paycheck.  You’re no Brad Richards, but he’s a real doucheknocker.

I know I seem a bit more controlled and calmer than I used to be.  That’s because I keep getting my ass served with suspensions and counseling and all that other bullshit. It’s not me being all nice nice, it’s me not wanting to have a target on my back all the time.  That’s bullshit.  From now on, I’ll only do that shit when there are no cameras or refs around. For example: you know Wayne Simmonds? Wayne Simmonds is a real…class act.  See? I’m all reformed now.  Even though in announcing, “class act” is just code for “black guy”, it sounds really nice. It makes me sound like a great guy even though I’m really thinking he’s a total turburgler. 

In closing, bite my ass, everyone.  
avery finger 

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