Canadian Politics Today

“...and that's how I got the nickname Sexual Tyrannosaurus,” I explained to the Admiral and Sheikh Ahmed al-Shabbaz, who were listening with rapt attention. I beckoned the bartender for another beer and continued my story.

“So anyway, there we were: Fukamo Joe Tanaka and the Irate Eight. It was just before Fuckface McGillicuddy got pregnant and married a Pacific Islander named... Prince Pelakomoko-Kua I think was his name. I forget what his island was called, but it has a volcano. When Fuckface left--”

“My dear,” the Admiral interrupted. “I appreciate a war story as much as anyone, but I thought we were to discuss our problem in the Caymans.”

“Yeah yeah,” I replied, and took a deep gulp of my Seaport Vanilla Stout. “I was just getting to that. So when Fuckface left, we became the Seething Seven. Not long after that, Frenchie and Dutchie left to chase their dream of starting an authentic Belgian waffle house. So then it was Fukamo Joe and the Furious Five... later Fukamo Joe and the Fuckin' Mad Foursome, and eventually Fukamo Joe and the Angry Bunch. Of course by that time--”

“It sounds like a surly group, to be sure,” Sheikh Ahmed al-Shabbaz observed.

“Joe was always pissed off,” I agreed. “Fukamo-- rhymes with Shoe-ka-mo, not Book-a-mo or Suck-a-mo. He'd get so mad when people called up and asked for Fvck-a-mo Joe-- and of course when Joe was mad, he made sure everybody else was mad too.  So anyway, we're pinned down by enemy fire from a sniper tower. Joe says to Hellcat Meg, he says 'Meg, I need you to get to that bunker, squeeze through that ventilation grate, get to the electrical room, and turn off the power to that search light.' It was dangerous, but Meg was the only one who could fit into the vent. So she  says 'Yes sir! Right away sir!' She turns around and slams face-first into the breech-block of The Newf's bazooka. And falls face first in the mud.  Splat!”

“Oh my,” the Sheikh sympathized.

“You're so drunk you can barely sit upright, my girl,” the Admiral added.

“I did not,” I protested. “So Meg gets up on her hands and knees, barfs, and says 'my keys, I can't find my keys.'  So Joe gets her to a sitting position and gives her his canteen. She washes the barf out of her mouth says 'I don't want to go to school today, mommy.' She's got that glassy unfocused stare we'd seen before.  This wasn't Meg's first visit from the concussion fairy, so Joe had been reading about concussion safety. He holds up three fingers and says 'Hellcat! How many fingers am I holding up?' and she says 'Yes sir! Right away sir!'  And Joe says, 'Close enough. Go get em, soldier!' and she gets up and says 'I'm gonna go get 'em chief!' and runs right into the breech-block of Leprechaun Shawn's recoil-less rifle. And falls face first in the mud.  Splat!”

“Oh dear,” the Sheikh remarked, sympathetically.

“So she's on her hands and knees, saying 'I can't find my car, where did I park my car?' over and over. Joe runs over and sits her down and gives her his canteen. She washes the barf out of her mouth and says 'Did I get 'em chief?'  and Joe says 'Yep, soldier, you got 'em good.'   And she says 'Oh good, I get a free cookie,' and falls asleep. So that was concussion number eight for Meg. Concussion number nine came a couple weeks after that, after we'd moved on to the island of--”

“Kimberly,” the Sheikh interrupted. “Although I fear we may never get to the Caymans issue, I must ask... your friend Megan... after all of these concussions... what became of her? Is she alright?”

“Oh yeah,” I replied, and paused for another gulp of my Vanilla Stout. “Yeah, she's doing good. She's a Member of Parliament now.”

 * * * * *


Yep so tonight I drank most of a 1.5L bottle of Copper Moon "Moonlight Harvest" Malbec.  It was pretty good, I guess. I'm not a red wine expert, but this seemed good. Yep.  Go buy some. Get drunk.

Imma go fall down now.

 -k