There's A Shark In My Hockey Pool - Plot & Excerpts
... 1 ... Cars and pedestrians jostled for position in their respective rush-hour lanes outside the Herculean building. In the reception area on the sixteenth floor, executive types sat in the six available chairs, briefcases at the ready. Erskine's receptionist controlled the on-ramp to his door. She was a chic traffic cop who could type 80 words per minute and stop a yammering solicitor on a dime. Inside his office, Erskine backed away from the window overlooking Yonge Street and turned to his desk. The player agent wore a corporate blue suit and sat across the desk from Erskine. The agent stared at the mounted head of a shocked gazelle on the wall. Erskine had gunned it down on an African safari three years before. The final blow had actually come from the guide's gun, as Erskine only managed to clip it once out of four shots. His one scoring shot had creased the nose -- not an ideal kill location for those hoping for trophy-mounted material. Dr. Buck Schott, the famous taxidermist from White Sulphur Springs, West Virginia, had managed to repair Erskine's slipshod shooting.
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