LiveWrong Entertainment Presents: Keeping up With The Canadians

Indifference’s headquarters rose like a territorial polar bear from the streets of Little Canadia in Bricktown.  A little maple leaf flag flew from the top of the building and one of the unofficial crew rules was that his minions had to salute it every day when they arrived at work…if they could be bothered.

Squirrel Nutkin, or Foamy as he liked to be called, scurried around inside tending to everything that Indifference had left on a list.

• Tidy up the coffee cups
• Vacuum up your acorn fragments
• Have someone do the dishes

Foamy had enlisted the help of one of Indifference’s other cuddly members, Winston_P_Bear to sort the dishes out.  Being from the vast wilderness north of the USA, Indifference displayed an affinity to all things animal and nature related – naturism included.  This was the key reason Foamy had been attracted to working with Indifference.  He, Foamy, loved any excuse to have his nuts on show.

Just outside the headquarters on the corner of Maple Leaf and Hockey Stick sat Tom Hostons coffee shop - a slice of Canada; as Canadian as curling, pot and free healthcare.  Despite Detroit being so close to the border, many Canadians stopped into Little Canadia on the way home or on the way into Detroit to work…the streets always full with people being oot and aboot, the air singing with the sound of apologies and tourists asking for photographs with the local Mounties.  Indifference had decreed that Little Canadia was almost a sovereign state of its own and so Canadian laws could stand but only if enforced by real Canadian police.

Hockey talk dominated the bars, particularly in winter time where thick plaid shirts were the epitome of fine evening wear for both men and women.  Residents of Little Canadia could never understand why people would go out ill-prepared for the ravages of winter but when someone appeared shivering, dressed in a t-shirt and jeans they did their best to apologise for the weather.

Indifference sat drinking a beer at the dining table in his private rooftop study; the empty dish that had just contained a stack of syrup drenched pancakes pushed ahead of him.  It had taken a lot of self-control to not lick the remnants off the plate but now it was just out of reach he really just couldn’t be arsed.  There was the sound of boxes being moved in one of the rooms below.  Foamy was on the hunt again; it was either porn, nuts or both on his mind.  Indifference loved the simplicity of his squirrel companion.  There was nothing complicated about his right hand man.  Nothing that an edition of Lumberjill*-Late-At-Night didn’t fix. 

*Who knew??

The oak tree editions were Foamy’s favourite as the lumberjills found time to show the world what was under the shirts and trousers while rolling around on acorns but the most recent edition had upset his nut loving sidekick.  It had been a lot more branch and trunk heavy than with lumberjills in various stages of undress.  Maybe it wasn’t the trees that did it for Foamy.

The door opened and Indifference looked up.  Amara poked her head around the door.  Always eager to impress, she surveyed the table and smiled.

“I’m off to the coffee shop boss, you need anything while I’m out and about?”

Indifference shook his head.

“Ah, ah, ahhh.  What do we say?”

He pointed at the rules.

“Sorry boss…while I’m oot and aboot.”

“No doot Amara, no doot!  I’ll have a Tom shake to wash my beer down.  Make it chocolate…oh and if you see Foamy ask him if he wants a donut.”

Indifference rummaged in his pocket and found some money and handed it to Amara.

“In fact get yourself something, it’s on me.”

One thing separated the Canadians in Little Canadia from the rest of Detroit was their generosity.

Foamy sat with his feet on the big crew meeting table and flicked through the October edition of Lumberjills with a lecherous look on his face.  This one was a classic.  Your bible could have fig leaves to hide modesty but nothing screamed take-me-behind-the-woodshed in a more alluring fashion than some strategically placed oak leaves with a couple of acorns hanging out the bottom.  Foamy drooled a little and quickly sat up properly when he heard someone coming.

Amara knocked on the door, Foamy's reputation round the headquarters preceded him like .

“Are you decent Foamy?”

Foamy thought briefly, was he ever really decent?

“Yes, yes.  Come in.”

“The boss is wondering if you’d like a donut.  I’m off oot and aboot to Tom Hostons to get myself a coffee, Bryan- is looking for a cookie but I'll have to get him some Tombits since they don't do cookies.”

“Oooh, I do love a tasty flavoured hole.  A maple syrup one will be fantastic thanks.  I'll get it in my office”

When Amara left, Foamy put Lumberjills down and went to his office.  There were piles of editions of Lumberjills going back years...back to when Lumberjills dealt with big thick bushes but since most people were into topiary these days recent editions were all showing big thick trunks and a lot less foliage. 

On his desk, amongst the pile of coffee, beer and poutine receipts was Foamy's copy of The Hidden Life of Trees.  He hadn’t yet got to any really raunchy bits yet but what he’d read so far was exciting enough.  Who knew they had a hidden life when people weren’t watching?

Amara walked out of the HQ and looked down the street.  The lights looked out at Tom Hostons, this did not look good.

Tune in next time for the next riveting installment of Keeping Up With The Canadians.  Would the Tom Hostons be open?  Would Amara have to get inferior coffee from outside Little Canadia?  Would Bryan- get his cookie after all?

Foamy sits watching, aghast that his sleezy secret was out

Yes, that's right, laugh all you want, I am in fact working for Canadians.

Now if you don't mind i'm going to take my morning constitutional, I had a ropey conker last night that's gone through me, and I'm taking this LumberJills with me for the article on classic bird........errr feeders and how to get into them, yes, nothing else to see here.

Bryan just go off from a long day, as he opens the door and walks straight to the middle, there's one on his mind, his cookies,

"Have any of you, seen my cookies?", as he stand and searching for any sign of his cookies.

Previously on Keeping Up With The Canadians

Indifference had just finished pancakes and was having a beer, Foamy was looking through old copies of Lumberjills and Amara was about to go and get some coffee.

Amara walked out of the headquarters and looked down the street.  The lights at Tom Hostons looked as if they had been switched off.  That was odd she thought.  Normally the coffee shop stayed open much later than this.  The shouting of the poutine vendors on the street corner masked the hurried sound of footsteps as she half jogged down to the front door. 

The lights were indeed out and the sign on the door was only turned to Closed.  There was no explanation and no signs of life inside.  She had promised coffee and the expectations had been set.

Foamy put the old Lumberjills copy back on the pile and flicked through the latest.  One of his favourites, Lumberjill Brenda was on the front posing with the latest in the Hultafors range of axes.  The main article was about the sprawling cashew nut trees of Brazil, a subject Foamy was always interested in.  Normally Foamy would flick past these but anything nut or Brenda related held his attention for more than normal, and the size of these nuts were mesmerising.  What Foamy didn’t know about nuts probably wasn’t worth knowing.  Not because he was a nut aficionado, which he was but because other than being tasty what else was worth knowing about nuts? 

He walked out of the office and past the tea room.  Jen was in there tidying up.  That was Foamy’s idea, having the newest recruits tidying things up and learning that it isn’t all drugs, lazing about, gambling and glamour in Club Dilligaff.  She was sweeping the pizza crumbs, pancake fragments and wiping down sticky maple syrup residue and picking up empty coffee cups.  He wandered up the stairs and went into Indifference’s private study, a room decked out in pure Canuckiana…hockey sticks, curling stones, pictures of maple trees and pines.

Amara looked around, she knew of Tammy’s delivery service that was keeping Detroit’s citizens all coffee’d, custarded and steroided up.  She found a way to get word to Tammy.  Her bestest delivery cyclist Lance was bombing through the streets in his standard Tammystripe uniform and Amara waved him down.  He was close to flying past in a flash, stuck in a trance of imagining himself racing through the streets of Paris but there was something in the pleading eyes that stopped him.

“Help me, I need…” she counted quickly on her fingers and hastily trying to remember the order, “…a…a chocolate milkshake, one…no two coffees actually make it three, a doughnut and a cookie please.  If you could just deliver it to me at that building over there…Club Dilligaff.”

Lance made a mental note, nodded and cycled off.

Amara ran back into the HQ and quietly went inside.  She sneaked up to the tea room.  Finding Jen there, she looked her up and down wondering if she could trust her.

“Can you rinse me out four of those Tom Hostons cups please Jen?  Also, did the bottle of maple syrup get finished?  I saw Winston_P_Bear dipping his fingers in it earlier?”

“I think there’s some left in the bottom.  I hadn’t quite got round to throwing it out.”

Amara rushed back down the stairs.  Lance, being so awesomely fast, had almost returned and screeched to a halt outside Club Dilligaff as she closed the door.

“That’ll be…”

Amara stuffed a $100 bill into his bib shorts, grabbed the container and slammed the door behind her.  She sneaked back into the tea room and started pouring the coffees into the Tom Hostons cups. 

The milkshake was a problem, it had a different lid and a hole for a big straw, it wouldn’t fit on the normal Hostons coffee cup.  Indifference was generally chilled out about everything so she banked on him not noticing.  Who was she kidding, these kind of fake outs never worked, she couldn’t tell him the truth though. 

Despite not looking like he couldn’t be arsed, Indifference’s number one rule had always been eat and drink Canadian or go hungry.  She remember the story about the delivery boy who had turned up with a Budweiser delivery…who knew a case of beer could actually fit in such a small orifice.  She smeared the last of the maple syrup on the doughnut, Foamy wouldn’t know any better.  She set off with a small tremor of fear.

She dropped off a coffee for Bryan- and handed him the cookie she had got.  He looked pleased but a little quizzical.

“What happened to…”

“I’d rather not say”

She left a coffee for herself and headed up the stairs.  When she got to Indifference’s study and knocked before walking in.

“…and they all started singing about bare naked ladies!”

Foamy and Indifference laughed and turned round.

Tune in next time for the next instalment of Keeping Up With The Canadians.  Would Amara get away with serving substandard* coffee in Club Dilligaff?

*It’s relative, Tammy’s coffee is the best-ish in Detroit.

Can Bryan- keep his cookie secret?

It was a little far for her to hear, but Tammy was utterly intrigued as she heard her very own name connected with substandard coffee serving. She stepped closer to try and hear more, but was disappointed when she realized that the Keeping Up with the Canadians episode had already finished. With her elbow, she bumped into a woman that seemed extremely aware of anything that was going on everywhere.

Hey Jen, Tammy said, what was that about? Is there a competition for the most mediocre serving of coffee, or did I misinterpret? Is it just for women that participate? Will you also join the competition?

Unconscious of her own hands, Tammy was clapping as she got excited about to the competition. Will you join the race, too, Jen? Will you?

I mean.. At the moment you surely will be more mediocre than Amara.. So the second place is for grabs. Unless Belle- decides to compete of course.. It seemed like someone had turned on Tammy's rambling button I can tell you.. She is the best at anything she does. She even extorted a million dollars from Evil_Clown.. Well.. It seemed like there was a little pause coming, but Tammy went on Yes we cooperated, but still! I bet you that she would even be the best at mediocre serving if she tried!