Maybe it was the Ontario licence plate, so familiar, yet so strangely exotic. Maybe it was the jug of maple syrup, a marker of difference, uniquely delicious difference, that could be seen resting defiantly in the rear view mirror. Maybe it was the "I break for beavers" decal on the trunk, so suggestive of a more interesting life than one could have in the United States. Whatever the cause, it cau - it was responsible for an international incident at the Vesampuccerian border.
The northern border. You know, the one that nobody talks about because it's "imaginary" (unlike the southern border, which is marked by a wall...which is only largely imaginary). The border everybody in the McDruhitmumpf administration expects will soon be downgraded from national to state (against the will of most of the people on the other side, but sooner or later they will learn to love Big Bother - everybody does).
Oh, that, border.
John Philip O'Sousaphonehome had spent a pleasant weekend at his grandfather Ebenezer's funeral in Colorectical Parkway, New Yoricknuhemwell, and was driving back to Centre of the Universe, Ontario, when he noticed a vehicle following closely behind. Very closely. Close enough that O'Sousaphonehome could count the number of blood vessels that had burst in the driver's nose thanks to his alcohol intake. That's close. Thinking quickly, O'Sousaphonehome got his dog Oedipuss (he had really wanted a cat) to record the encounter on his pet cellphone (making O'Sousaphonehome grateful he hadn't gone with his original plan: a cat would have looked at him languidly and asked him, "What do I look like - a cinematographer?" before returning to licking the top of its head).
The car was being driven by somebody wearing the shoulder patch of a US Customs and Border Patrol agent (the rest of his uniform was apparently invisible). The driver eventually pulled up alongside O'Sousaphonehome and folksied: "Don't ever come back here, y'all. Y'hear me? We don't want no poutine-sucking platypuses round here! Eh?"
That last syllable was meant to hurt.
Somewhere in Vegas, a casino owner's heart had palpitations for 73 seconds (which at least made him a little money because he had a side bet that it would be under 75). There the matter have lain, except when he got home, O'Sousaphonehome uploaded the video to Instanoodles, the video sharing site, where it went viral. Rotten Potatoes gave it a 97 yum rating, with one user commenting, "Best! Pet! Video! Ever!"
Oedipuss (whose name would probably give it complexes if dogs were capable of advanced thought), demurred, barking, "I was just - SQUIRREL! - lucky to be in the right place - SQUIRREL! - at the right time. NEVER FORGET PEPPERMINT PATTY PUPPY MILL!"
Canada being Canada, the "international incident" consisted mostly of newspaper letter writers asking, "What did we do to deserve this?" and looking forlornly at the ground, as if the answer was written on the toes of their shoes.
In fact, Vesampuccerians seemed more angry on Canada's behalf than Canadians did.
"what the ferk ferking motherferkers?!!!" @stoneposes1989 wrote on Twitherd/Y. "canadians have been our best allies for centuries - millennia, even!!! when my aunt augie needed a hip replacement, she slipped into canada and pretended to be quebeckian to get it for free!!! would a ferking Vesampuccerian doctor do that? nyuh ferking uh!!! aunt augie can dance the funny chicken because of canada!!! so i say keep yor ferking hands off the ferking country, motherferkers!!!!!!"
In response, @JazzyBella wrote: "Whoa, steady on! Appreciate the enthusiasm, really, I do. But could you tone down the language a little, please? There really is no need for all the swearing."
"don't ferking tell me there is no ferking need to ferking swear, you ferkin gherkin!!!" @stoneposes1989 riposted. "when my best ferking friend is attacked by a ferking moron who has drunk the Reduhblican ferking cool-aid, I will not stay quiet!!!
"Alrightey, then," @JazzyBella acquiesced.
O'Sousaphonehome shrugged off the encounter. "I didn't realize that the platypus was a symbol of Canada. I'm going to have to look that up when I get home," he said. "I'll have plenty of time, considering I don't plan on going back to the United States again in my lifetime. I'll just have to do what my ancestors going back generations have done: get my cheap smokes from a Reservation!"