| CANADA'S SOURCE FOR HUMOUR, PARODY, AND SATIRE
 by Fubrics Short
It is with
a sense of alarm that your scribe, esconced as he is in his tower on the
banks of the Rideau Canal, here in the fair capital of our great country,
begins to fear for the possible attack of those rebels even now carving
new territories and provinces out of the vast hinterlands to the West
of here, territories that, until now, were the home of peoples we civilized
politicals called heathens and barbarians, their customs not understood,
their language foreign, their dress strange, but now demanding attention,
and wanting to be heard, I look nervously out of my garret constantly
now, alert for the signs of approaching aircraft, I've memorized the number
of stairs to my Audi in the basement and am religious about recharging
my cell phone, I don't understand, are we not helping by organizing trade
and buying their beaver pelts and lumber, by giving them blankets and
guns for hunting more efficiently, why would they be asking for more,
if they were never organized with their own parliaments before why would
they want them now I ask, and all my colleagues are as perplexed as I
am to understand the mindset, the thinking involved in these desperate
acts so far removed, I think that's just the regular flight I hear, it's
pretty high up, but when they come close I sometimes make that a good
time for break and run down to the car for a few moments, ostensibly to
make sure I locked the doors, but really I am not even fooling myself,
and yet I can not help it, I don't understand my own motives, much less
those that are driving the rebellion near Winnipeg, I am afraid
fubrics@thetoque.net
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