When confetti runs out during victory parade, workers toss files, documents

The city had been waiting decades for their hockey heroes to bring back a championship. Each and every one of those years they had waited they had also been the laughingstock of the united haymakers hockey league.

But not this year. Ownership had sunk tens of dollars into the team, giving them the best and newest water bottle collection of the whole league. This proved invaluable when, in the finals, the other team came down with the flu, owing in large part to---shared water bottles.

Now, the hundreds of fans, or people who wanted to skip work for the morning, had gathered on the town's main street to watch the ticker tape parade.

The parade route was going to take the winning team from the curling club all the way to the local get-it-all store, a more than 800-metre distance that would have them treated as though they were the Montreal Canadiens. Since they were traveling by tractor, the trip was likely to last three or four minutes.

As the players huddled close to one another outside the curling club, they planned to soak every second in.

"How many people do you think there will be?" the goalie asked.

"At least fifty," the team captain promised him.

"That's awesome."

For most of them it was indeed awesome, and as the piled onto the tractors, smiles could be found on all their faces. Except Jim, one of the defencemen who was afraid of tractors.

Only slightly further down the road, the parade watchers watched for the first signs of the tractors.

"So what is ticker-tape?" asked one man who was waiting with his daughter.

"I have no idea," answered the local get-it-all store owner. "I think it's something the players throw at us as they ride on the tractor."

"That sounds fun," the man said back.

"No, no, I think you're wrong," said the insurance company owner who has holding a pile of shredded documents in his arms. "Ticker-tape is something you have to make and throw at them. I used some insurance claims to make mine."

"Really?" asked the get-it-all store owner.

"I'm pretty sure. So you'd likely shred some invoices or some old cheques."

"I just got some invoices today," he said. "There still in the envelope and everything."

"Enveloped make the ticker-tape even thicker," the insurance man explained. "Look at the claims I received today," he added, holding out some thicker pieces for the men to see. "See how heavy they look? I'll easily be able to hit some of the guys with these ones."

"Hold my spot," the get-it-all store owner told his friends. "I'm going to go get some ticker."

"Get me some too!" the man with the daughter yelled.

As they waited, they had little trouble holding the spot since nobody was within one hundred feet of them. finally, they saw the yellow tractors in the distance and waited as they slowly crept forward.

The get-it-all store wonder returned not long after with a garbage bag full of shredded paper.

"I just shredded up everything from our accountants office, I hope it's enough ticker-tape."

The insurance man, who had become the ticker-tape expert examined the contents of the bin and deemed that they were good.

"We might even get a paper cut out of this," he suggested.

"And that's good?" the man with the daughter asked.

"It proves that you are fan enough to use expensive ticker-tape."

With that, they waited some more. Then they waited a little longer because one of the tractors broke down and all the players needed to get on the one tractor that still worked.

And then the yellow blobs int he distance started to take focus and the tractors were nearly within ticker-tape throwing distance.

"Wait for it, wait for it," the insurance man instructed his fellow throwers, knowing they were anxious to rid themselves of their ticker-tape.

"Thanks for comin..." the captain of the team started saying to the three men and the little girl waiting on the side of the road.

"Now!" yelled the insurance man and the four of them started pelting the tractor, and the people on it with their shredded documents.

"Oh my god, we're under attack," one of the defencemen yelled from the bucket of the tractor. "The paper cuts! The paper cuts, I'll never play again," he added holding onto his now bloody hands.

"Good lord what are they throwing!?" the captain yelled, grabbing a piece of the paper.

"It looks like insurance claims," the goalie answered. "Dammit, they're recent ones too, I just sent this today," he added holding up one piece of an envelope with a partial claim in it. "This was for the teeth I lost in the finals."

The garbage bin was quickly emptying and the tractor was almost past.

"Keep throwing, look at them waving their arms in thanks," the insurance man encouraged his fellow revellers.

The players were almost out of reach of the ticker-tape and they huddled nearer each other hoping to shield some of the more injured players from further attacks.

"Good parade boys," the captain said to the team when they finally escaped their fans. "Let's make a good run at it next year."

The End

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