Breaking Hazel: A Guy Germaine Story

Prologue: Scoring In My Spite
By Funkiechick

(There are NO Guy fics out there. I mean, there are plenty of Guy and Connie's, but nearly all of those are from Connie's perspective of what Guy is. I decided to write a Guy fic-he's my favorite character. This will be a loooonng fic. It will go on from Guy being about three years old to being eighteen years old. Yes, the other ducks are in it. Yes, Connie plays a big role. But this a story about Guy. Because it has never been done, and he is my favorite. So enjoy!)

He hadn't even been interested in hockey at the beginning.

When Guy Germaine started playing hockey at six years old, with a pathetic home made stick in hand, and an old empty can as the puck, it had not been because he had dreamed of being a hockey player. But Guy had never remembered dreaming of being anything. Not really. So forcing this hockey dream up out of nowhere had been better than nothing at all, especially considering the circumstances. But as soon as he started playing with his pathetic 'equipment', something happened.

He fell in love with the game.

And what reactions were caused because of his minor obsession with the sport, made him love it more.

His step-dad HATED hockey.

Guy did not remember his real father. His 'birth-dad' as his mother so strictly told him as soon as Guy could speak english. He had run out on them when Guy was born, despite the fact his mother said he had wanted a boy. So there were no small memories of playful afternoons at the park, or playing horsie, or anything. Not even photographs. His mother hated dwelling on bad thoughts.

Guy had been fine with it. Just him and his mother. But six months after Guy turned three, his mother married a man named Maxwell Ryanson. Even before the wedding took place, Guy was dead set on keeping his own last name- Germaine. His mother had allowed this wish as long as Guy promised to be as wonderful to Maxwell as he was to her.

That was the last real happy time with his mother that Guy could remember.


"He's a runt, Laurine!" Maxwell boomed, poking three-and a half year old Guy Germaine in the stomach. They were in the living room-a room Guy had never been in before- the day after Guy and his mother moved in with Max after the wedding. "Look how small he is."

"Oh, he'll grow Max." His mother smiled. "Runs in the family. My eldest sister's son was just about Guy's size when he was Guy's age. But as soon as he turned thirteen-WHOOSH. He's now nineteen years old and 6'3. Guy will grow."

"Well, what happens when Guy is thirteen doesn't matter." Max retorted. "I want him to start playing football when he turns six! He better be bigger by then, or the little guy will pay for it." Max guffawed. "But maybe that'll do him good-get him used to the rough and toughness of football."

"Max." Laurine said, her voice breathy. Her voice was always breathy when she was a little nervous. "Guy doesn't have to start football unless he wants to." She smiled at her son. "Right?"

Guy smiled slightly at his mother. The first smile he'd given her in a week. "Maybe." He said quietly. "Can I go play outside?"

"I don't think so." Max said, interrupting Laurine. "Get used to the house, boy! And we'll be sitting down to dinner soon. I want to show you my power saws while your mother cooks." He knelt down to look in Guy's hazel eyes. "How does that sound?"

Guy shrugged. "Maybe."

Max's face changed. "You don't say 'maybe' to your father, son. Strait answer!"

Guy cowered slightly. "Okay..."

"Good." Max nodded at Laurine. "He needs some discipline. It's a damn good thing you met me Laurine, or he might have turned out homo!!"

"Max!" Laurine shrilled, appalled. "Don't use that word. Besides, there is nothing wrong with homosexuals."

"Flamin' freaks is what they are." Max grunted. "Come on, boy. We're going to the tool shed."

And reluctantly, Guy followed his soon to be nightmare for the rest of his life, into the tool shed.


Guy rammed his toy firetruck into the side of the sandbox. He laughed as he made the crashing sounds. From a park bench nearby, his mother smiled.

Max had finally went back to work after a week. With Max working, Guy could finally go back to some of the things he used to like to do. Until Max came home anyway. And Laurine loved seeing her son enjoy the outdoors. Max had thrown a fit when Guy hadn't wanted to watch a football game with him, but thank God Guy had enjoyed tossing a miniature football back and forth. If he hadn't, Max had sworn Guy would be hopeless as a man.

"VROOM!" Guy shouted, ramming the truck into the sandbox again.


He looked up slightly, still quietly banging the firetruck at the box, to see a small little girl with short brown hair glaring at him.

"This is MY sandbox."

Guy blinked. "It is?"

"Yes. Avermen and Goldurg and Peter said so." The girl then gave him a smile. "I had to punch and punch them, but then they said it was mine."

"Oh." Guy sat back on his rump. "Well, I didn't know."

"I'm Connie." She smiled again. "My mom says my name starts with a C. No one else my age knows how to spell their name in my neighborhood!"

"I do." Guy replied. "G-U-Y."

Connie glowered at him. "I'm free..." She held up three fingers. "How old are you?"

"Three and a half." Guy said, speaking almost perfectly for a three year old.

"Well, that explains it." Connie nodded. "You're a whole half year older than ME." She smiled. "Come on, you can play with me if you want. You'll be the only kid my age in my neighborhood that I let in my sandbox."

And thus, Guy was smitten as she stuffed sand down his overalls.

As Connie and Guy played, the mothers of the other neighborhood children (including Connie's mother) became friends with Guy's mom. Guy's mother was the only one out of all of them who wasn't with a career. Max said it wouldn't do for a woman to do a man's work.

Guy supposed that was supposed to be romantic, but he didn't really think so.

Laurine had talked and laughed with the mothers the whole afternoon while Guy and Connie played in the sandbox. And his mother hadn't kept track of time.

When Max saw Guy playing in sandbox, he almost lost it. But when he discovered it was with a girl, he just couldn't hold it in.

"Your son is like a little GIRL!!" Max yelled. "How have you been raising him!!? Did you give him DOLLS to play with!?"

"Max, he's three years old!!"

And while Max insulted his mother's raising children abilities, Guy watched on, sitting on the kitchen floor. He hated Max.

He was four when Max started hitting. It started with a hard slap to the shoulder when she failed to have dinner ready at six. Just a little slap that was to be followed by many others as Max temper with both Laurine and Guy started to rise.

Guy had changed. He was living in a poor neighborhood, with only one parent working. He wasn't wealthy. He was a poor kid, like the others. So he started acting more like the friends he had met when he was three. Tough. Mouthy. He was growing up in a dirty environment.

Connie had taken the liberty of introducing him to Greg Goldburg, Les Avermen, Charlie Conway, Karp, Peter, Jesse and Terry Hall. And soon, he started to act like them.

And after he witnessed Max's hitting his mother, Guy became very protective of Connie. If you laid a hand on her, Guy took you on. Hell, if Guy saw any female being hurt, he would jump to her defense. He was determined not to turn out like his step-dad.

Finally, after he turned six, his step-dad tried to start him on football. Guy wasn't bad. But he wasn't interested. Black eyes had been part of last night's dinner-because apparently Laurine had been buying Guy presents with Max's money. Guy had found an old green-handstitched hat in the attic the night before. Max wouldn't believe that it was old. Guy decided not to listen to Max, and wore it everyday. Soon, Max let it go and stopped blaming it on Laurine. Football became the antidote for Guy's 'girly fondness' of his hat.

"Boy." Max said to Guy. "Football is the American sport. I always dreamed I'd teach it to my son. And now I will." He handed Guy a football. "Just like my dad taught me."

Guy tossed it, and it landed in a satisfying thump next to Max's feet.

"Good toss." Max nodded. "Football is the way to go. Not like golf, or HOCKEY." Max growled. "Hockey is a damn Canadian, pansy ass sport." He shook his head. "I hate hockey." Max started to go on about how Hockey required a girl's skill-skating. And that hockey was as easy as 'putting on shoes'.

The next day, Guy had suggested to his friends that they start a hockey team. And as he put a stick together with some old wood from Max's tool shed, Max didn't speak to him for a week.

And thus, hockey became an everyday part of Guy Germaine's life.