The Barnstormer has secured the cooperation of a locked-out NHL player who has agreed to document each day he is kept out of action on the condition that we do not reveal his identity. Ever. Read all the daily diary entries of “Cheap Throat” here.

8:31AM — I shat my pants. There, are you happy? I shat my fucking pants.

8:32AM — I shat my fucking pants on the late train to Vienna last night and now my shat pants are in a railyard in Vienna.

8:33AM — Fuck Vienna.

8:34AM — And fuck Austria.

8:35AM — I could have stayed in a hotel. Buut fuck it. My asshole basically told me to forget any intention I ever had about seeing anything in Austria. Why? Because I shat my pants. They shouldn’t even call it that. Like it way a choice I made. Like I decided to. Fuck you Austria, and your stupid mountains  and your K120 ski jumpers. I hope you all crash and shit your ski suits when you land.

9:41AM — I feel like I’ve been butt-humped by a horse.

9:42AM — And was forced to shit a hairbrush.

9:43AM — Backstory. Fine I’ll give you backstory. It started with the currywurst and the cheeseplates about five days ago which blended together to form unbreakable lock in my anus. The condition was made worse by dehydration. Do you know what happens when you’re consitpated? Like actually? Your body takes water from the coiler you should be plugging toilets with. When it takes water from it, it becomes harder. The longer it’s in there, the harder it gets.

9:44AM — I’m not religious. I’m sometimes religious on airplanes which is partly why I would never play in the K-Hole. I feel like God would catch on to my hypocrisy. Like he’d be all why do you only ever contact me with some personal CBA when you’re on a Russian plane. But this time I wasn’t on a Russian plane. I was on a Czech train, where I partially tore the sink from the bathroom wall mid prayer.

9:45AM — It wouldn’t come. I pushed until I was shaking. I know this is a lot of detail but I need to tell someone. This really affected me.

9:46AM — Sonja sent me a text mid prayer. Me: X((   (I was trying to make a  squinty face frowning) Her: Awww I miss you too.

9:47AM — But it’s true. I actually prayed to Jesus. I prayed for Jesus to pass the thrashing badger that was lodged inside my lower intestine.

9:48AM — Have you ever shaken while taking a deuce?

9:50AM — After 75 minutes I shat what sounded like a toonie.

9:51AM — Whoa. Naptime. And I need to soak my ass in warm water.

2:31PM — Did everything I could. Ran on the spot. Did squats. Nothing. Nothing. So I gave up. Then I put my thumb up my ass. Used to know a girl in the Sault who always did this. She was on top – boom – thumb up my ass. I was on top – boom – thumb up my ass. Anyways this one time when she did it I nearly crapped all over her hand. Can’t remember her name, but I’ll never forget her. She saved me on the train.

2:32PM — Hour later, train pulling into outskirts of Vienna. Intense abdominal pains. Intense. Bathroom door: locked. Some British girl doing her makeup. As of ten minuites after that, I officially hate anything that comes from British. Everything. Especially that woman.

2:34PM — Found an empty car. Well almost empty. Some folks at the front. I went to the back. And shat my pants. Real bad. But I got the badger out. And then squeezed my shat pants out a small window. Quickly redressed. Found an open bathroom, cleaned up. Blew a blood vessel in my left eye.

2:35PM — Only one place for me now. Italy. In Genoa now. I need oils. And hills for running. Hear there’s some nice villages here for that. I need to put on some skates. I need to stop hating Gary Bettman. I need to believe hockey will happen this season. I need to believe my asshole will work again, I need to believe I don’t need to fear eating. I need to eat salad. Lots and lots of oiled down salad. I need to think about what I’m going to do after hockey. I need one of these girls I’ve been undressing with my eyes to actually undress before my eyes. I need to finish high school. I may need to go to college. I need to find a way for my money to work for me. I need to know what that even means. I need to fire my agent. I need my asshole to stop stinging. I need to do laundry. Fuck it. In Italy I will re-fill my suitcase. After all, I just shat my pants. And now everything is different.