The lights flickered on in the locker room, and Paul was immediately assaulted by the smell. That rank, powerful stench called hockeymusk that he was so aversed to. It offended him. Deeply. Just being in the locker room of those chauvinistic, cis-gendered pigs made him furious. See, Paul was something of a social justic warrior. Not the kind that would go out and fight for the homeless, oppressed, or misunderstood. He was the SJW that demanded the great Red American Revolution, thinking himself a nouveau Lenin. What was the cause this time? Sports. Evidently sports caused a hierarchical class system that placed the well-abled above the common man, and it oppressed the weak of the populus. Welp, it had to go. His plan was to sneak into the local hockey team’s locker room, and destroy all their gear, making it impossible for them to play the next day. However, the actual task was proving to rather more difficult than he expected, as the famously rancid hockeymusk defiled his nostrils.