The President of Canada

“I just don’t like it,” she said, staring at him with those big brown eyes under smoldering eyebrows.

“You think I like it any more than you do? But what choice do I have?”” he asked, his blue eyes wide.

“You have no choice.”

“I have but one choice – to die for my country.”

“That’s not a choice, that’s a path.”

“Yes, I have but one path – country-death.”

“So it’s not heroic, it’s just tragic.”

“Yeah, I’m a tragic hero.”

“You are tragic.”

“Heroically.”

Actually, I take it back – you always have a choice.

Yeah, to starve or to do the devil’s work – some choice.

Weaker men than you have chosen the former.

DUMBER men than I have chosen the former.

I can’t tell you what to do.

Seems like you are.

Well, I can’t make you do what I want.

Not for lack of whining.

Where’d u hear that?

The president of Canada.

Canada doesn’t have a president.

Then I declare myself President of Canada!

You’ll have no power.

Neither do those Windsors, but look how famous they are.

Technically, they do, but they’re only to be consulted when all else has failed.

Like Bush!

I guess so.

So, that’ll be me, minus the power.

I don’t see the point.

It’ll be great! You can be my mistress!

Mistress?

Yeah, I’ll need a respectable wife, but you’ll provide just that hint of scandal that keeps people interested – you’ll be my Camilla.

Your Lewinski.

Exactly!

Fat chance.

Ha ha!

My gosh – let the poor woman rest in peace!

I’m pretty sure she’s still alive.

I should hope so – she’s sleeping on my couch.

Oh, is that who that was? I thought it was your sister.

My sister’s in another state.

Which one?

Shock.

What happened?

She fought the law.

And the law won?

Yeah, the law of physics – she was fixing this one outlet – turned out it was a live one.

Was she like, “We’ve got a live one here!”?

No, she was like, convulsing.