The Cup

The next morning Judas and I felt pretty bad. The place was a wreck from the party the night before and no one had cleaned up from dinner.

As we start to clean, our heads throbbing, Judas turns to me and says, “Check out The Cup.”

There it was on the table, all silver and pretty. What was at the bottom? Wine? Champagne? They must have even passes it around to one another.

“You know what would be cool? If wee took The Cup around to people and let them pose with it” says Judas.

“They’re going to pose with it? Then what?”

He thinks for a moment “Pose with it. Touch it. We say a few nice things. People want to see The Cup.”

“Well,” I say “if we are going to do this right, I am going to change my title… to Sir Stanley.”

“Sounds good” Judas says “give me a hand with this.”

And that is how I got to see the Stanley Cup at work this afternoon. If I cared for hockey I would have had a chance to get my photo with it. But to see it live was enough.

To think of all the famous people who have touched it makes me want to get a bottle of Purel.