Canada: The Thrilling Pre-Pre-Denouement
-Look. Look here. I was trying to have some sort of legitimate establishment, and then you. You and your madcap adventures, clefted robots, and other sorts of madness come and start a kerfuffle (which is nothing like a chinaman riding about in a carriage in the likeness of an orange). If I let you tell your tale, will you leave never to return?
-Most likely not, sir, for I am a man of taste and refinement and
-Fine, then. Just tell the story before my porters arrive and forcibly eject you through the uppermost window of the North-West tower.
“Well, then. Ahem. Where was I? This was last touched upon so many months ago I cannot bring myself to recall the idiocy that occured upon this hallowed parchment. Having newly acquired quotation marks and a codpiece of genuine Pewter, I believe I shall simply concoct a new bunch of ridiculous lies.”
“Uncle Maurice! Why, shame I do cry! Never! Tut tut! Such impertinence, and to have so unfashionably left us pondering your fate for so many months-”
“Nonetheless. Now where was I? Ah, yes. Beginning anew, rising from the ashen hills of Dunkirk like a bedraggled hatchling Phoenix, as though o’er the furthest hill-top Athena too rose fully formed of Zeus’ brow! God’s areolas could hold no smaller glory than that of this beginning, for in the East there rose a full sun-”
“Uncle Maurice, is there such a thing as a sun half-poured?”
“Children, I have but little time for your queries into the overindulgence which is delighted in by many a man, for wither th’ glass is half empty, half full, or even hemming one in on all sides, one can rely upon the near-clockwork precision of the assembled aeronautical associations of the world’s nations to awaken one with great, joyous rumblings from deep beneath your fishing trawler.”
“Uncle Maurice, Great-Grandfather says that was the A.T.F. dropping depth charges below your houseboat.”
“I can’t see why the A.T.F. would be interested in a stock pond. Anyhow, as the story goes, ’twas morning, and the sun rose in the East, to a certain quotient fulfilled in its rotundity. The sounds of cock’s crows and sodomy with goats issued forth with great authority from the farmlands yonder, and I marveled at man’s industry! It is told in some halls that there are some who would say in certain company that a select people speak in dulcet tones, behind closed doors, of the raising and issuing forth of deformed goat/human hybrid foetuses.”
“But what does this have to do with the gold mine in Alaska and the wicked Canadian Clefty Francoise?”
“Ah, that villain. When was I telling you of him?”
“This is useless.”
“No, no. Come back by Uncle Maurice’s feet. The fire burns yet, and I’ve a yarn to spin…”
