Charlie sat in his dorm room where the Mighty Ducks were housed. Busy typing a book report for English, he barely glanced up when Goldberg and Averman walked through the door after being gone on an extended lunch hour.

"We're back, Charlie," Goldberg said as he entered.

"So I see," Charlie said, sparing the pair a brief glance before returning to his keyboard.

Goldberg and Averman sat down on the bed and Averman took out a magazine from the paper bag he had brought in with him. He started reading the magazine intently. Charlie looked up and noticed his enraptured face. Probably the latest edition of Adult Video News, he thought with a grimace. How Averman could read that smut was beyond him. He shook his head and continued with his report. The room was silent except for the sounds of his typing and Averman turning the pages of the magazine.

"Hey Goldberg, listen to this," Averman said suddenly. "An autopsy was done on a deceased man in New York City and a Junior Mint was found inside of him."

"Inside his stomach?" Goldberg asked.

"No inside him," Averman replied.

"A Junior Mint?"

"Yes."

"The candy?"

"Yes, the refreshing candy," Averman said, nodding his head.

"Not digested in his stomach?"

"No, it wasn't in his stomach, it was inside him."

"Inside him?" Goldburg asked, confused.

"Yes. Sewn up inside him, like from an operation."

"Averman, quit reading that trash," chimed in Charlie.

"Charlie, it's not trash. This tabloid has the inside scoop on everything and they're right ninety-nine percent of the time."

Charlie shook his head and grinned, "Are you guys ready for our trip to New York tomorrow?"

"The Big Apple. I can't wait," said Goldburg. Charlie looked down and then up at him again.

"Goldberg are you wearing a new cologne?"

"Yes, I am Charlie. Do you like it?

"Yeah, it smells like the beach."

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New York City

Monk's Restaurant

Dwayne, Ken, Russ and Banks sat in a booth in the small diner. They were just finishing up the hockey tournament that had brought them to NYC two days previously. Before going back to their hotel to pack, they had decided to grab some lunch.

The diner was quiet except for the foursome seated behind Russ and Banks. They were somewhat loud, and oblivious to anyone else in the restaurant. As the boys waited for their lunch order they couldn't help but overhear the foursome behind him. Russ kicked Ken under the table and when he looked up, startled, he motioned with a quick jerk of his head to the people sitting behind him.

Ken cocked his head as if it would allow her to hear them better. A short, bald man with glasses was talking.

"My mother caught me," the man said sheepishly.

"Caught you?" The guy behind Banks said, "doing what?"

"You know....I was alone...."

As Ken, Russ and Banks got the meaning of what he was saying, so did his companions at the table.

"What are they talking about?" whispered Dwayne. Russ motioned for him to be quiet.

"I stopped by the house to drop the car off and I went inside for a few minutes. Nobody was there.....they're supposed to be working. My mother had a Glamour magazine.....I started leafing through it..."

"Glamour?" said same man behind Banks. Russ, Ken and Banks looked at each other trying not to laugh.

"So one thing led to another and..."

"So what did she do?" his friend asked.

"First she screams, George, what are you doing? My God. Then it looked like she was gonna faint, she started clutching the wall trying to hang on to it. I didn't know whether to try and keep her from falling or zip up."

"What did you do?" George's friend asked.

"I zipped up."

"She fell?" The dark haired woman at the table asked.

As his friends looked at him incredulously, he cried, "Well, I couldn't run over there the way I was!"

Laughing, George's friends nodded in agreement.

It was all Russ could do to keep from bursting out laughing as George described how his mother hurt her back from the fall, was taken to the hospital and put in traction.

"Maybe we shouldn't be eavesdropping," Ken whispered guiltily.

Russ and Banks were still listening to the conversation. "Shhhh...Ken," Russ whispered back.

"I tell you this, though, I'm never doing THAT again," George said.

"What, you mean in your mother's house or altogether?" the woman asked.

"Altogether," said George.

"Gimme a break," his friends said in unison.

"You don't think I can?" George asked his friend.

"No chance," his friend replied

"You think you could?"

"Well, I know I could hold out longer than you."

"Care to make it interesting?" George challenged his friend.

"Sure, how much?"

"Hundred dollars."

"You're on," George's friend accepted the challenge.

"Wait a second, wait a second," George's other friend, a man with very high hair said, "count me in on this."

"You? You'll be out before we get the check," said the guy behind Banks. Russ choked back his laughter and Ken kicked him under the table.

"I wanna be in on this too," the dark haired woman said.

"You're a woman. It's easier for a woman not to do it than a man. Men HAVE to do it, it's part of our lifestyle. It's like, ah, shaving."

"Oh that's baloney," the woman replied. "I shave my legs!"

"Not every day" said the guy with the high hair.

"Look, you wanna be in?" George asked the woman

"Yeah"

"You gotta give us odds. At least two to one. You gotta put up two hundred dollars."

No, a thousand dollars!" chimed in the guy with the high hair.

"I'll put up one fifty" the woman replied.

The men seemed to agree that that was acceptable. Russ and Banks seemed mesmerized by the conversation, and Ken had to admit it was the most bizarre conversation he had ever heard. Dwayne was just sitting there with a puzzled look on his face.

The foursome continued on, unaware that their conversation was being overheard.

"Now how are we gonna monitor this?" George asked.

"Well, obviously we all know each very well. I'm sure we'll all feel comfortable within the confines of the honor system," said the man behind Banks.

Ken saw all of them nod in agreement, then all four of them put their pinkie fingers up and did some type of pinkie swear ritual, and they all let out a little squeal. The bet was on. Ken shook his head. Didn't these people have lives?

The foursome resumed their lunch, as the boys' lunch arrived.

"Did you guys hear that?" asked Banks.

"Yes, I couldn't help but hear it. They were pretty loud," Ken replied.

"What were they talking about," asked Dwayne.

"Um, we'll explain it to you later," said Ken. Dwayne shrugged and continued eating his meal.

Banks continued on, "I think it's a great bet. I wonder who'll win? My guess is the woman. She should be able to hold out for months."

Ken smiled as he picked up his fork to begin eating his big salad, "You think so, Banks? My pick would be the dufus with the high hair. He probably doesn't know HOW to do it."

"Who do you think would win if we had that bet?" Russ asked the others after taking a bite of his sandwich.

"Russ!" Banks replied, "that's absurd."

"Banksie, c'mon," Russ grinned at him. His hazel eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Russ, between your video collection and your 976 numbers you wouldn't last a night. The answer is obvious," Ken grinned back him and took a bite of his salad.

"Are you willing to put your money where you mouth is Wu?" Russ asked.

"Russ, you can't be serious. We can't bet on a thing like that!" Banks exclaimed.

"Why not? Are you afraid you'll lose?"

"This is a sucker bet, Russ. You couldn't make it till dawn."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that Banksie. I think you might be the one to cave first."

"I don't think so Russ."

"Then let's do it."

"Forget it, Russ."

"Spoilsport."

Ken smiled and continued eating his salad. Russ, realizing they weren't going to give in, took another bite of his sandwich.

Before long, the waitress came over and after inquiring if they needed anything else, left the check. Dwayne glanced at her and then did a double take. Then he looked around the whole diner like he was casing the place.

"Dwayne, what's going on?" Ken said looking at him quizzically.

"Do y'all notice anything strange about the waitresses here?"

They looked around at the waitresses as they served the other patrons. "No, I don't notice anything out of the ordinary, why?" Ken said.

"Check it out boys, ALL of the waitresses here have rather large, uh, chests."

"Dwayne, do you have a one track mind or what?" Banks said indignantly.

"Just check it out, y'all!"

They all looked at the waitresses. Dwayne was right, all of them were very well endowed. "Dwayne, you're right," Russ said grinning. "Are you sure we aren't in Hooters?"

"It sure looks like it. You must have to wear a D cup just to get an interview in this place."

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John F. Kennedy Airport

New York

Portman sat in the boarding area waiting to board the plane back to Minnesota. Fulton had gone off to buy some food at the snack shop. Portman glanced at the other passengers waiting to board. They looked about as excited as he did.

"Portman, catch!" Fulton's voice came from his left. He tossed something towards him and his hands automatically came up to catch the article. It was a small snack size bag of pretzels. "In case you get hungry on the plane, dude"

Fulton sat down next to him and opened the bag of chips and the soda he had bought for himself.

"I'm a hungry now Fulton. We haven't eaten since lunch and it looks like they are holding up this flight for some reason." He opened the bag of pretzels and began munching on them.

"You're right Portman, I heard the boarding agent talking. It seems that some weirdo got on the previous flight at this gate and started harassing another passenger. The guy insisted that the passenger owed him some money. They finally had to escort the guy off the plane. Anyway, that incident is what is holding us up."

Fulton continued popping the chips into his mouth. "And you know that killer that was just caught? The one on Time magazine? He was on the flight too. I'm glad we weren't on that flight!"

"Yeah," agreed Portman, still munching on the pretzels. Fulton turned to look at Portman. He was staring at him, his eyes wide and watering a bit, "Portman, what's wrong?"

"These pretzels are making me thirsty," he croaked.

Quickly Fulton gave Portman the can of soda he had also purchased. He took a big swig. "Thanks Dude."

"No problem."

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The boarding agent's voice came over the loud speaker and began the boarding call. Guy looked a little sheepishly at Connie.

"Ah, Connie, I forgot to tell you something."

"What Guy?"

"When I was checking us in, they only had two seats left. One was in coach and the other was in first class."

"And?" Connie looked at him, her eyebrow arching menacingly.

"Well, I've flown first class before and you told me a while back that you never had, so I figured that since I know what it's like and you don't, that it would be easier if you sat in coach," he said matter-of-factly.

"Always the gentleman, aren't you Guy?" Connie said sarcastically and stomped off in the direction of the large window that overlooked the runway.

"What did I do?" Guy whined to nobody in particular.

Guy looked over at Connie as she stood by the window. She glared back at him. If looks could kill, I'd be six feet under, Guy thought. Better wait on telling her about that Christmas card she sent out to her friends, family and teammates. He didn't think she would be to happy to find out that part of her nipple showed through her blouse. He looked at her again, she was staring daggers at him. No, that bit of news could definitely wait.