"Guys, can you please hold him still?"

"We are trying but he doesn't seem to really actually want to do this."

"It is team tradition gentlemen. It has to happen."

Mac watches the young kids eyes pass from the blowtorch to the branding iron. Back and forth, back and forth. This kid is so scared he is likely wetting himself Mac thinks to himself as the bag is pulled over his head.

"Don't do this! PLEASE MAC!"

Mac sighs deeply, as if in regret and replies "Look, it wasn't my decision either to have this done but you'll come to forget it and look upon this day as the day you truly joined our organization."

"Organization? It is flippin' hockey team! I am not being branded!"

"Guys, could you gag him. I don't want anyone calling the police once he starts screaming."

"Help!!!!!!!!! HELP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! JESUS SOMEONE HELP ME!!!!!!!! hghgghghgh---"

The kid is fighting with everything he has when Mac slowly approaches him.

"This is for your own good son, you'll be a stronger man and a part of the team."

Unable to really understand the unintelligible response, Mac motions to his assistant, Rose.

"He is a lively one, Mac."

"I know, I don't think there has been anyone this resistant since we had Mikey Abdalla in here."

"Well I'd say you were right but didn't he shit himself once the branding started?"

"Yeah, I think so. I'd have to ask Raycroft or Chiclets. I think they were the ones who initiated him."

By this time, the young guy managed to loosen the gag.

"You people are sick, this is why you never win a Cup. You spend all your time torturing peo---"

He is quickly shut up when the gag is placed back in his mouth.

"I don't know what to say. I could have sworn that was on tight."

"And him atttritubiing our losing to this. For shame. If anything I should chase some of these lazy bastards around with this thing, might get them to start training."

"You know Mac, we still have that cattle prod we used when Gibby was getting rambunctious. You could do that if you weren't lazy yourself and chased them with it."

"You are talking to a man holding a red hot branding iron, Rose. Careful what you say."

"And you'll do what with it, brand me again?"

"I am not quite certain you have been the first time. I have yet to see it."

"They got me somewhere I'd rather not show to the public, thanks."

"Anyway, shall we get to this?"

Mac reaches over into the barrel of ice that the beer is sitting in and grabs a branding iron that had been in there all day. He hands the red hot one to Rose, smiles and presses the frozen one against the kids rear.

"Ah, he pissed himself. Didn't you do that too Mac?"

"Hmmphh. Not this much."

Mac takes off the blindfold and the kid looks at him, at the poker, at him and back. To Rose. To the red hot poker, to Mac and to the cold poker in his hands. Mac looks him, smiles.

"Want a beer?"