Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Is that some sort of puppet?

*** continued from previous post ***


Behind the bar is a man.

At least, I think he was a man. But he seemed like an empty shell of a man. Zombie like. He wouldn't look at us. Just stood there, pouring frothy pints as Mom and I cleared our throats and looked at the menu. Not even a "Y hallo thar." I don't know for whom he was pouring the beer, for there was no one picking them up once they were tall and frosty. I believe it may have been a rote action.

The minutes ticked by. Curiously, and pointedly, he would busy himself at the counter, then wander away. Then come back. Nary a word escaped his mouth. When he did cast a glance at us it was less than friendly. Blank tinged with contempt is more like it.

Come to think of it, I didn't look for strings. He may have been a life-sized puppet. This whole experience could have been grand performance art, and we were just too stupid to get the joke. That would explain the bunching. Everyone wanted a good seat to the show.

After a while, (and it seemed like an eternity), Mom tugged my arm and said "This is just weird. Let's get out of here."

I believe she summed this situation up rather nicely. Time to get the Hell out of Dodge before there was trouble. As we began to make our way to the door, a man walked over to us and said, "The food is actually pretty good here."

Too late silly Canadian. The whole place had taken on a creepy 'Invasion Of The Body Snatchers' vibe. The crowd may have, I fear, on some unspoken alien-commander type cue, silently, and in unison, stood up and stabbed us in our red-blooded USA lovin' hearts with sporks, then later served us on toast to other unsuspecting tourists. If they ever got around to taking their order.

By the way in case you didn't know, sporks are the national utensil of Canada. It's true. Sporks are also, regionally, referred to as "foons' or 'runcible spoons'.

See, this is why I can't remember my address half the time - my brain is chock-full of useless, yet somehow mildly amusing knowledge.

Anyway, We left post-haste.


*** the journey continues tomorrow ***

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