Can we please face Josh Harding for all games hereafter?

So this is what 60 minutes of Red Wings hockey feels like.

Detroit defeats Minnesota 5-1 and sure helped people betting online.

Henrik Zetterberg played like a man possessed tonight. TSO particularly enjoyed Babcock's pairing of Eaves with Hank, which resulted in that fabulous goal by Z. Wow. Either Henrik heard the cries of all the Detroit faithful accusing him of selling out by selling short, or Emma began passing on sexual congress with him. Take your pick. Whatever it was, more, please. (Our apologies to the Wings whose amorous endeavors fail as a result of their fans' selfish requests.)

How about the Mule? Franzen earned himself two goals tonight, and how awesome was it when the camera caught him on the bench right after he scored the second one? I swear to Christ, homeboy looked like he was about to straight up eat somebody. (Kings of Leon: You know that I conSUMED someBODAAAYYY...) And to be honest with you, I then did a five-second mental rundown of all the horrible things I've done lately, just to make sure I hadn't double-crossed Johan by hooking up with his significant other or relieving myself in his water bottle. My conscience is now at ease.

And what about that Miller/Filppula shorthanded rush, which resulted in a goal by Drew himself? Brilliant moves by both men. Not only was it awesome for scoring purposes, but it also proved that Miller can be just as adorable knocking a goal into the net off his own person as he is doing anything else. When Buffalo comes to town on Saturday night, not only will there be some good ol' sibling rivalry on the ice, but it'll be an adorable-off competition of epic magnitude between the two brothers, kinda like stumbling upon the Gerber baby playing peek-a-boo with the terrier group from the Westminster Kennel Club in a Dutch tulip garden while butterflies, bumblebees, and bubbles float through the air on a sunny day with just the right number of clouds in the turquoise sky to remind you of fluffy cotton candy. Siiiiigh.

We can't leave out Darren Helm from this one, either. How many times has he stepped into the crease at juuuuust the right fraction of a second to prevent a puck from sliding across the line? Genius, my friend. Jimmy had a good night, as well; he looked stronger tonight than he did two nights ago, stepping up to provide several clutch saves.

Anyone (Krononymous? Dena?) want to speculate on the over/under of the odds that our bud Marty Havlat sharted big time when he heard the thunder that could ONLY be the sound of KRONWALLING?

How sad is the state of Minnesota's power play? I'm not even sure I have the words to describe it. But, at gunpoint, I could make an attempt:



On an unrelated note, anybody else watching the game on the NHL Network catch that commercial about the journey of sperm through the conception process? Because, yeah, the one thing I was missing from that whole birds-and-the-bees convo my mom had with me back in the day was a militia of people dressed in riot gear to imitate the archnemeses of the little one-eyed snakes on their trek to sperminize the ova. Can you imagine what sex ed class in 7th grade would have been like if we could have reenacted that? Classic. So, uh, yeah, I'll probably tape it or something, if you want to come over and watch it with me.

Last but certainly not least, how's about dear Homer's efforts tonight? Mickey was right: Striking from that distance on the ice is definitely a rarity for #96. As Homer's gal Friday, I'm going to interpret his actions tonight as a preemptive measure to annex additional office space, so I'll be working the phones bright and early tomorrow morning to make sure we get all our building permits in order to comply with the zoning codes.

You're fucking out!

...As in out of the playoffs! For now, anyway. I would rather have been dropping a hard Kenny Powers line after a win, but I think it fits tonight. Fair warning - I think Nat and I both were irrationally angry after this game.

So tonight's game was absurd. Maybe I'm a completely crazy fan, but this loss made me mad. You are battling for a playoff spot. A spot in the playoffs that the team you're playing can take from you by beating you. In this scenario, you are leading the game 2-1 at the start of the third...get outshot 15-4 in the last period and lose 4-2. That, to me, is a big sack o' horseshit. Where was the effort? I believe it was the good folks at Helm Street today who stated that this Wings team can be the best team in the league for about 20 minutes, and it's a pretty true statement. The second period? Amazing. Third period? Oy vey. My timely observations, with a few questions sprinkled in:

1. I'd love to hear someone who actually plays hockey on this (Chris from NOHS, Petrella, I'm looking at you, and probably others I'm forgetting ) - Was Jimmy kind of suspect tonight? He looked out of position a lot early, seemed to fight the puck a lot and have rebound issues. Maybe I'm crazy. Though I'm saying this, I don't think you can really blame him for the goals tonight....and this isn't pro-Ozzie-he-should-be-playing-right-now crazy talk. He shouldn't. Jimmy is our goaltender, for better or worse, and I think for the better. Jimmy just seemed shaky tonight.

2. I know it was mentioned a lot at the end of the telecast, but Hank, um, doesn't really look good. I mean, the guy is a warrior, so I don't judge. I think any of us would rather see a half strength Hank instead of, oh, I don't know, Jeremy Williams. But it is what it is.

3. Pav, Homer, and Franzen - Domination. Franzen looks great.

4. If only the Wings were in the East...

5. I can't even count for you the amount of swearing I edited out of this. This game was sad. It just makes you think - how can this team have a third period like this? NOW? At this point in the season?

I know I'm not even coherent right now so I turn it over to you the readers. Talk me, Brian, off my over-reactory ledge.

A welcome-back to Lilja, and oh, yeah--how about that game yesterday?

If hockey fans are the best, then Red Wings fans are the most awesomest times infinity.

Our pal saraneuie, owner of her own photo blog, has generously agreed to continue sending her welcome-back montages to us to post on here. A million thanks, Sara, and without further adieu, I present you with a collage of Andreas Lilja's first game back at the Joe:

Even still, seeing him back in the Winged Wheel feels too good to be true, like I'm imagining it.

***

And yeah, how about that game yesterday against our nemeses? Felt pretty fucking good to win 5-4 at the United Center, didn't it?

My favorite part, other than Datsyuk's amazing breakaway goal and the fantabulous Franzen interpretation of a diving motion (LOVE how Chicago brings out the best in terms of the Mule's antics), was how the Hawks didn't really seem to get that the game was over at the final buzzer.

Because I'm pretty 'hood, I had to think long and hard about what gangsta song I would use to describe how I felt following yesterday's victory. I think I've chosen a solid one:

Welcome back to Homer & the Mule.

Once again, our fabulous readers @saraneuie and @nursenitz have plied us with collages of Homer's and Franzen's first games back at the Joe after the 1,000-year road trip. Alas, like the elusive butterfly he is, Homer exacerbated the knee injury during Saturday's game, and it looks as though the Mule will play for him in the Olympics after all. Egg on your face much, Sweden?

Poor Homer, though. That's gotta be beyond disappointing for him. (Anybody want to speculate on what Homer's favorite form of exercising his demons is? I'm guessing it probably has something to do with eating cats or perhaps steel wool granules while donning a Moses-style headpiece and screaming into the night wind.)

On a brighter note, here are some visual snacks for your enjoyment. I'm pretty sure the Homer one is going up in my place of employment. Sara titled the one for #93 "Franzen and His Mustache." I gotta say, I'm digging the mustache, but then again, I like Franzen's red playoff beard. It makes him look like even more of a badass.

A night of effort, heebie-jeebies, and frustration.

So as you saw tonight, the Wings lost to the Sharks...

...fuck a bunch. The Wings played a great game overall tonight. A ton of effort, all kinds of chances, and they just couldn't get it done. Tonight's game was maddening. This might have been one of the better efforts all season, and it wasn't to be. This is all at the expense of our sanity. I don't get it. I know they played a good game tonight. Why, however, is it always the Wings who have a ton of chances but just cant get it done? Why can't these guys light the lamp? So, so many open chances. Whatever. I guess it doesn't really matter. Some of my highlights from the game...

1. Franzen looks like a ginger possessed. For all those who wondered what state he'd come back in, he's told us - super bad ass. That's the state.

2. I'm pretty sure Darren Helm has not had a bad game yet.

3. Jimmy certainly saved our ass countless times. I have no idea how he can do the things he does.

4. It's good to have a top line back.

5. Bleh. They really have to start getting some WINS on the board, right? Great effort, great chances, but came up short. I'm too sleepy for this.

6. I'm prone to overreaction, but shootouts. What's up with that? How are we THAT bad at 'em?

Is it Olympic time yet?

"Recap" & Waylon Wednesday.

So, there was a game last night. Against the St. Louis Blues. No, we didn't watch it. Versus + dial-up internet at home = no dice for such games. But here's what we learned from monitoring the game summary and reading other people's recaps:

1. We earned a point last night because the game went to OT, and, eventually, a shootout. Commence celebrations in the form of nipple clamping and bukkake sandwiches.

2. According to The Triple Deke and The Production Line, Johan Franzen rocked a sweet mustache. And in addition to feeling distraught over missing the Mule's first game back since his 1,247-year-long stint on IR (no, seriously, doesn't it feel like it's been that long?), we're equally disturbed we missed out on that, as well. After all, TSO is your one-stop shop for all things mustache rides and dirty Sanchezes, which are a form of mustache, if you think about it. (Go ahead and think about it. You know you want to.)

3. Further according to TPL (in a guest post written by Chris Hollis of Motown Wings and The Obstructed View fame), Henrik Zetterberg should not be allowed in a shootout ever again. Not seeing the game last night, I can't judge his effort; however, he has not had a particularly strong year when it comes to shootouts. Ballin' B and I talked about this yesterday while we awaited the results of the riveting game summary during the shootout (refreshes every 30 seconds for your convenience). The last time I saw, his shootout success rate hovered somewhere in the early 30% range. Far be it for me to question seriously Babcock's judgment in selecting his shooters (oh, puh-leeze, like anybody takes this site seriously, anyway), but it does get frustrating to watch the same players fail to convert time and time again (ahem, Dan Cleary, during all the injuries, way back about 3+ weeks ago). Then again, how shitty would it be if Babcock replaced his star players with under-the-radar guys and still came up short? Six in one hand, half a dozen in the other. Shootouts suck; I have no problem watching other teams participate in them, but when it comes to the Wings, my heart sinks every time the OT clock winds down.

4. Jimmy Howard stopped 42 of 45 shots on goal last night, including the 5:00 of OT. Twenty of those shots were in the first period. The mind fucking reels.

5. Kris Draper's persistence as of late paid off last night in the form of scoring the first goal of the game.

Questions I have for people who caught the game:

1. How the fuck did Todd Bertuzzi manage to commit a penalty only 0:28 into the game? Did somebody urinate on his skates? Threaten to force him into a glass-bottom boat scenario? Taunt him with accusations of his mom smelling like cheese?

2. Brad May got into a fight. How did that work out?

And that's all I really want to know. No, seriously. We're going to adopt the motto of the drag queen/transvestite in Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil: "Two tears in a bucket, motherfuck it." The Wings take on the Sharks on Thursday. Go big or go...home? How does that work if they're already at home? I guess it's go big or leave home, in that case? Whatev. Our satellite is still jacked up (SNOWPOCALYPSE!--no, really, we now have 4+ feet of snow and counting...I'm 99% sure I'm going to build an igloo and live in it for free or else charge someone for all my construction labor), so you may get another fantastic recap like this one or one of our oh-so-awesome real recaps when we watch it and still have nothing productive to say. Gear down!

***

Let's get to the point with our Wednesday question. This one's been asked all over the blogosphere, plus we delved into it the other week in our Wednesday comments, but it's hard not to bring it up formally since we're only two days away from the Opening Ceremony:

Which men's ice hockey team do you hope wins Olympic gold?

This is a toughie for me; I've been all over the place with my loyalties. Obviously, I'm an American and would be proud of my home country for winning the gold, despite Patrick Kane's craterfaced presence on the team. (No, seriously, there are no cab rides involved in ferrying the players about Vancouver, right? Just checking. Don't embarrass the stars and stripes, assfuck, or you'll have a lot to answer for 'round these parts.) We've got Rafalski on the roster, plus players TSO likes in the form of Ryan Miller, Tim Thomas, Jonathan Quick, and Jack Johnson. On the other hand, we also have Brooks Orpik, who annoys us only because he plays for Pittsburgh, and Ryan Whitney, who plays for the Ducks and has a girl's last name. I'll be happy enough if Team USA nabs the gold, but I won't be surprised if they don't because the competition is stiff.

Like many of you, the only thing I care about regarding Team Canada is Stevie Y and Babcock. Other than that, the team at large makes me ralph. Sidney Crosby, Ryan Getzlaf (who may return from his injury for some of the games), Scott Niedermayer, Chris Pronger, Duncan Keith, Brent Seabrook, Corey Perry, and Dany Heatley? Words fail me. How are Canadians dealing with this level of code red douchiness? I know Olympic gold is more important to our neighbors to the north than sex, air, or water but...blehhhhhhhh.

Team Sweden is stacked with winners, never mind the controversial snub of one Johan Franzen. Despite the annoying Sedins' presence on the roster, it's damn near impossible to find any reason to dislike the blue-and-yellow rascals, considering how many Wings made the cut. The only thing is...they've already won the gold.

Other than being inherently biased toward Team USA, I'm rooting for Team Russia. Their roster is stacked with fantastic NHL-ers: Our own Pavel Datsyuk, plus Ovie, Semin, Kovalchuk, SNB, Nabokov, and Bryzgalov. The only downer is that Russian gold means Malkin and Gonchar benefit, which is a bonafide tragedy, but really, I would love to see Pasha with a gold medal.

In any event, there's obviously a lot to root for--and against--each particular "powerhouse" team. Any of the aforesaid four countries taking home top honors will bring some sort of happiness, as well as a teeny, tiny iota of strife, to our lives. One thing I think we can all agree on is hoping that Team Slovakia is a wash; Marian Hossa, Marian Gaborik, and Tomas Kopecky with a gold medal in their hands? I'd rather watch somebody sign my own death certificate.

And now, a little mood music...because nothing gets me fired up for Team America (fuck, yeah!) quite like Waylon:

It's TWENTY-ten, and I've packed my game face.

We at The Scrappy Octopus turned over the calendar yesterday and, after getting over our epic but much-deserved hangovers, performed an ancient, spiritual ceremony to cleanse both our physical and mental selves of the toxins of the year past. In other words, we collected the following items, grabbed the closest metal barrel, and lit the motherfucker ablaze:

1. Our Owl City CD. (Just kidding. There's no way we'd torch this. We're getting into this all-natural trend and trying to avoid ingesting excessive chemicals, so we use "Fireflies" as our own panacea for impacted bowels. Works like a charm.)

2. Our first-aid kit--because we're fucking sick of injuries, and we're outlawing them. I'm not going to try to make a joke here because this isn't funny.

3. Our stalker-esque diary we've maintained, chronicling our unrequited correspondence between ourselves and Georges Laraque. Ever since we stumbled upon this website and realized that the love of our lives had been so close, and yet so far, for so long, we've been unable to sleep at nights. So many restless evenings, I've found myself pacing in a dreamlike state on my widow's walk, wearing my very best prairie cult frock, performing an interpretive dance of the fury that rages both in my heart and in my loins for Mr. Laraque. I've written him many times, setting my words of passion and truth onto parchment with my finest quill pen set, only to get in return, at first, mere silence, then a stern warning from Mr. Laraque's alleged "legal counsel", and, finally, a formal writ to cease and desist from the proper authorities. Sigh. Such is the rollercoaster that is love. Alas, we're moving onward and upward, the details of which shall be discussed anon. Now that I've set afire the record of my blunders of the heart, maybe I will be able to achieve a peaceful state of mind once more.

4. Our Stanley Cup Finals 2009 gear. Yeah, it qualifies, even though it feels like a lifetime ago. Gone in the fire--now it officially never happened.

5. All whistles have been sent to the furnace. Got a problem with it? Intend to blow me.

6. The memory of Tomas Kopecky ever playing for the team. Why now, of all times, to choose to forget about him? Because he hasn't done shit for Chicago. I know, it seems counterintuitive, but trust me: The way my petty brain works, if he had been succeeding under Q-Factor's tutelage, I would vow never to back down and never to get scared.

7. Wait, Claude Lemieux was on a figure skating show? And he almost won? HilARious. Balls, I must have forgotten that already. Thank Christ for my lame but apparently crucial "Octopus Ink" to remind me of all the things that have pissed me off in my time writing here. To the fire!

8. Once upon a time, I publicly proclaimed that I fucking hated Ville Leino. I was wrong. My tortured soul confused "hate" with unadulterated, animal lust. (Yep, this counts as discussing it "anon".)

9. I once posted a photo of Finn the Whale on here. I apologize profusely. Never again.

Tonight, the Wings play their first game of the new year in Phoenix; most recently, they trumped the Avs at home with a 4-2 win on New Year's Eve. Mr. Leino himself netted a goal, and while I don't want to toot my own horn, I would like to say that I got a direct Tweet from him after the fact saying that he credits his good luck with wearing his lady's favors beneath his armor (read: he totally had the panties that I sent him on his person).

A few New Year's resolutions on TSO's part:

1. To write more consistently than we have over the past month or so. The fact that we won't be tripping off candy cane highs and eggnog lows should help.

2. To figure out finally how to pronounce Mattias Rittola's name. For shame, I never know if I have it correct.

3. To reenact this with Vilster (Did...did they just say what I think they did? It couldn't be...):



4. To live to see Nicklas Lidstrom score a goal. I'm beginning to believe Johan Franzen Halley's Comet Jesus Christ will return sooner.

5. Can January be the next April?

Yippee! Wings win 3-2 over Caps.

To be honest, I wasn't feeling this game at first; I was far too nervous about the absence of Johan Franzen and the addition of Patrick Eaves and the presence (again) of Derek Meech. You know how the universe will implode if too much awesomeness occurs simultaneously? Yeah, the exact opposite of that is what I'm trying to say.

The Wings really got going during the 3rd period, though, after the 1st and 2nd periods being kinda flukey and weird, and ended up on top at the final buzzer.

Quick thoughts on tonight's game, in no particular order:

--Homer scored a GOOOOOOOOAL! His second of the season. This brought a huge smile on my face.

--The first Caps goal was complete junk, and I was mad at Ozzie for letting it in. I got over it eventually because he made some great saves tonight, but ugh. So goes the plight of every Wings fan--we all understand this.

--The Datsyuk/Zetterberg/Bertuzzi line seemed a little rusty at first, but ended up playing pretty well. The Twins had some great scoring chances, particularly in the 3rd period, and they had me out of my seat, jumping up and down, on more than one occasion. Bert is looking far better than I had anticipated, also; so far, he is my favorite of the new additions. Zetterberg skated much better tonight than on Thursday against the Hawks.

--I wish Dan Cleary would do more of what he did during the playoffs. This guy is so good at those gritty goals. We need some of that.

--Jason Williams reminds me of Mikael Samuelsson in that he has a strong slapshot that sometimes finds its way into the net. Jason Williams reminds me of Mikael Samuelsson in that he has a strong slapshot that sometimes finds its way into 4 or 5 people in front of the net. Tonight, it was the former; therefore, he does not receive any of my wrath.

--Valterri Filppula had a great hit on Alexander Ovechkin. It's gotta feel good to topple that guy.

--I wonder who woke up Tom Poti and Brian Pothier for the game.

--That whole dislodged net/lack of whistle thing irritated me. I guess it's negated by the questionable call on Mike Green for slashing Ville Leino in the 3rd period, but it still pissed me off.

--Ville Leino had another stellar game. His skating had stood out for me after each game so far this season; in fact, he is one of the most memorable skaters on the team. I'm glad he is proving wrong my initial worries about him.

--Still on the fence about Patrick Eaves. He skated well tonight, made some good passes, but overall, I feel pretty ambivalent toward him. Time will tell.

--I can't believe Derek Meech and the boarding penalty. I hate it when people on our team play this way. As a Wings fan, I'm spoiled by our team not having stereotypically dirty players, so I don't like it when one of our players commits a dirty penalty. Boo to Meech for this one.

--I miss Johan Franzen.

That's all for now. I'm pumped that we won the game tonight, but the Franzen news still = a dark cloud over the future. It's one of those things that can't be changed, and the best thing to do, as a fan, is just focus on the awesome members of the team who are making things happen. But it still sucks ass. Bleh.

Who wants a beer?

I don't even want to talk about it.

Per every news source ever, Johan Franzen has a torn ACL and will miss at least four months of the season.

Fuckity fuck fuck fuck.

Five Things I Heart About Sweden

Other than, obviously, the fact that so many members of the Red Wings squad hail from there. My theory is that Sweden just might be heaven on earth; its awesomeness and badass-ish-ness are truly unparalleled:

1. VIKINGS.

Need I really elaborate? Vikings will kick your ass. Everybody has gotten so excited over the past few years over pirates, ninjas, and vampires, but Vikings were the original badasses. Not only did they school much of Western and Central Europe, as well as the Middle East, with their pillaging and plundering ways, but they also beat Christopher Columbus to North America by almost 500 years. Have you ever seen a replica of one of their ships? To be honest with you, I'm not even sure I would feel comfortable using them as a paddle boat on a pond in a state park, let alone sailing across a fucking OCEAN in one of these joints. Vikings have balls of steel:



2. Aquavit.



This shit is hardcore. My friend is Swedish, and her family toasts with Aquavit on holidays and special occasions. If you've ever taken a shot of vodka, imagine a similar flavor, with the added bonus that you can literally feel the liquor crawling down your esophagus before it hits your stomach like a lit match. Each Scandinavian country has its own method of producing aquavit (or akvavit). This shizz will definitely keep you warm on a frigid Nordic night--or at least get you all jacked up enough to make some questionable decisions.

3. Umlaut and Kroužek.

Hmmm...sounds sorta kinky, right? Like maybe some sort of outrageous, inappropriate, Nordic S&M? Settle down, sickos. The umlaut is actually the formal name of the two dots over letters in certain languages (ä), and the kroužek is the name of the ring atop other letters (å). I knew the name for umlauts, but I just learned the word "kroužek" today; actually, the word itself is Czech (Jiri Hudler would be proud). I couldn't find the Swedish name for it online. (OK, fuck it: I am just far too lazy to browse more than three or four links down on Google.)

So, why am I so crazy for a little U&K? Because our language is so boring in comparison. We don't have ANYTHING nearly this interesting to spice up our writing. The Spanish get the tilde (~), and the French hyphenate practically every other letter in every single word, while several European languages, Swedish included, get the umlaut and the kroužek. So. Not. Fair.

Not to mention that in addition to serving as confetti for the written language, these marks make Swedish accents sound amazing. How many times have I watched a Zetterberg interview and found myself nodding off to sleep courtesy of his lullaby of a voice?



Ahhhh, Zetterberg. Which brings me to...

4. Swedes grow freakin' sweet beards. Enough said:









And, my all-time favorite:



5. The cultural contribution that Swedes have given the world for decades. I give you the following:







You're welcome.

Post Numero Uno

The very first post of the blog I've been contemplating the creation of for the past several months: The Scrappy Octopus. Truth be told, the biggest hang-up I had was that I couldn't think of a name awesome enough to be worthy of writing about the best team in hockey. I kept mulling over creative plays on words, but nothing really stuck until I thought of combining one of the best traditions in all of sports--octopus-throwing--with one of my favorite characteristics of hockey players (and people in general): scrapiness (is that a word?). Hence, The Scrappy Octopus (the "the" at the beginning is to give it a little pizazz, to make it official...you know, to put some stank on the entire idea).

So, here it is. The first post. So much pressure...

.......................................................................................................

Well, to break the ice, I suppose I can introduce myself and explain what the purpose of this thing is. In case the vermilion-adorned octopus in the banner didn't grab your eye, I am a Red Wings fan. I love them more than life itself. I love talking about them. I love thinking about them. I love reading what other people write about them. As a matter of fact, during the roughly 3/4 of the year that comprise the hockey season, I turn into a mindless drone, capable of conversing about non-hockey-related topics for only brief interludes--basically just enough to keep myself gainfully employed. So, I figured, what the heck? Instead of alienating people I know personally with my nonstop, ad nauseum hockey obsession, why not give a good ol' college try to this blogging thing? It can only improve my personal life, right? We'll see how this experiment goes...

Oh, and speaking of the banner: If it looks like it costs $5, that's because it pretty much did. It cost me the $4.45 I spent on a tall "harvest moon" latte at the local coffeehouse, where I went to obtain quality internet access (dial-up at mi casa = major fail). Also, don't be fooled by the fancy shmancy font on the banner, either; far from being classy, this blog strives to be super tacky and uber offensive, so get pumped about that. If at any point this blog comes across as educational or useful, you should ask for your $5 back.

So...30 +/- minutes until the puck drops on the first meet-up with the Pens since...eh, still don't wanna talk about it. Sadly, according to the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, Sidney Crosby won't be on hand today. That's ok, we still have this:



Oh, and maybe we'll get lucky, and those two trolls Chris Kunitz and Sergei Gonchar will cease stabbing our goaltender between whistles. And while they're at it, maybe they'll both go eat a dick.

Welcome to The Scrappy Octopus!

Let's go, WINGS.