Canadaland Episode II: Attack of the Scones

This is a continuation of the short fiction piece I'm putting together for Blogagon.

"...CKER, EH!" I screamed as the coach flew at what felt like Mach 1 over the beautiful landscape below. I was utterly confused why I said "eh" at the end of that sentence; it felt strangely necessary. I didn't ponder it long though, as this crazy flying coach was scaring me shitless with its reckless maneuvering.

We passed over more hockey arenas and molasses distilleries as we went screaming through the air. To be honest it looked like candy land if someone had spilt their breakfast on it and threw in some moose for good measure. I believe at one point I saw a forest of waffle sticks next to a lake of syrup. It didn't help that Jacques sat over there on the other side of the coach laughing like a madman.

"WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU LAUGHING SO HARD, EH?" Once again that last bit was involuntary, "AND WHY THE FUCK AM I SAYING EH SO MUCH, EH?"

"That is something I never understood about your world, eh. How do you know when your sentences end, eh?"

My good lord, they actually vocalized punctuation here. I realized my anger was getting me nowhere. This Canuck just found it funny. I realized I had to calm down if I ever wanted to get out of this place. "So I'm here for a case, right..." I tried to hold it off, "...eh." It came out like a sneeze.

He stopped his giggling and fell back into a reserved smile. "Yes, I told you I lost something valuable, eh? What I lost was my kingdom, eh"

"Your kingdom, eh?"

"Yes, I'm afraid I have not been totally honest with you, eh. My name is Tim Horton, former King of Canadaland, eh."

"Tim Horton, like the coffee shop, eh?"

"I am assuming you are referring to my foreign embassies, eh? Yes, the delicious Canadian food and drink seems to have reduced anti-Canadian sentiment amongst your people, eh."

"So, who took this government away from you, eh?"

"William Shatner, eh."

"WAIT?! WHAT? EH?!"

Hundreds of miles away in the Castle of Ottawa, sat the new King of Canadaland. "So...whenwill this...castlefly, eh?"

"My lord, this is a castle, it has difficulty going to space, eh."

"Indeed, eh! But, Iwill...soon...have my placeamongst... the cosmos, eh. Is...theCanadaArm, ready, eh?"

"We now have full access my lord, eh."

"Fire photon torpedoes, eh."

"Sure, eh." said his servant as the monitors in the King's chamber showed members of the International Space Station being thrown into space by the CanadaArm.

"Beam me up, eh."

"Sir, how many times to I have to tell you that you'll be flying up, eh."

"There will be more time for questions later Mr. McClane, eh. We are touching down here to transfer airships, the moose require their rest, eh."

We got out of the flying carriage in a town that literally had houses made of molasses cookies. The smell was intoxicating, the cookies were seemingly kept at their fresh-baked odor. "Look, Mr. Horton, I get you have problems but how the hell is a private detective supposed to help, eh?"

Suddenly a baguette went flying past my head and stuck into the wall next to me. I turned to see dozens of people jumping off rooftops and heading towards us. They were, well, they were fucking French. More French than a curly mustache. More French than a beret. More French than socialized medicine. More French than banana tarte tatin. How did I know? They had all of those things.

"You really should not have said my name, eh. The King's agents lurk everywhere, eh."

"Are they all this French, eh?"

"Le Quebecois have been sympathetic towards King Bill, eh."

They were running at us waving their delicious looking desserts threateningly and something inside me snapped. First of all, I hated the French, it's built into by red, white and blue DNA. Second, my anger over Timmy dragging me into this dream world had not receded in the least. Now this hellscape provided me with something to take my anger out on, and bless God they were French!

I tore the baguette out of the wall and met their charge with my own. I yelled as I ran at them with anger, pride and passion mixed into the beautiful sound of glorious battle. "YOU FUCKING FRENCH COMMUNIST FAGGOTS! HERE COMES UNCLE SAM TO EQUALLY DISTRIBUTE YOUR PETITE ASSES ALL OVER THE PAVEMENT!"

They suddenly stopped. "NOUS NOUS REVENONS, EH!" I only understood their surrender based on my own prejudice and the white flag they produced. They ran into the night whimpering in their silly hats. I turned around to find the whole town bowing to me.

"Okay what the fuck? That cannot be the first time you've seen the French surrender."

"ALL HAIL THE ONE, EH!" said the crowd in a very creepy monotone. This must be what it feels like to be Pope. The only one not bowing was Horton.

"What are they doing?"

"I knew you were the one all along, prophesized to save this land, eh."

"The who?"

"The One Who Never Finishes His Sentences, eh."

"Never finishes his wha... Oh I stopped saying 'eh' didn't I?"

"And now you are ready save the world, eh."

TO BE CONTINUED