'O...(So It's)...Canada...

The answers to the puzzle arrived on my mental doorstep in staggered formations and out of sequence. A clue here...glimmer there...finally...the thesis arrived, fashionably late...and all was revealed. My thought process crystallized. Disbelief was not only suspended...but expelled.

Canada is actually the internet. The internet is actually Canada. They are in reality...the same entity. You can imagine my excitement.

Please...stay with me...

The internet mysteriously shoots through the air before landing in my computer box thing. Things shooting through the air (mysteriously or otherwise) do so by antennas. Antennas are kept on the roof. America has a roof. It is called Canada.

That must be where the antennas are kept. Questions of infrastructure are answered.

Prior to my entry onto Hubpages.com...I didn’t know any Canadians. Suddenly, now that I am on the internet, there are Canadians everywhere...

In an examination of ratios...staffing concerns are addressed. With over two-hundred thousand Hubbers (In Hubsville), being serviced by two dozen staff members, it would stand to reason that nine million Canadian technicians could service the six billion world wide internet users.

Additionally...it is my understanding that ninety percent of the population lives within a hundred miles of the border. It makes sense. They must sleep in the attic and only go on the roof to service the antennas. It’s pretty cold up there. Questions of staffing have been laid to rest.

Services rendered. I can get prescription drugs, concert tickets, and blueberry extract over the Internet. I can also get these things in Canada. Coincidence? They would have you think so; however, I proved not quite so gullible. Questions of duplication of services...examined and put to bed.

Internet payment. I don’t use real money when I buy stuff on line...I use a fake kind of money. It is almost like monopoly money.

I pull out a Canadian dollar bill that I received at birth from Uncle Chuck and Aunt Mary. I don’t remember Uncle Chuck and Aunt Mary...but I have been carrying around this un-spendable Canadian dollar bill for over forty years. In fact...it’s almost like Monopoly money. Monetary linkage is self-evident.

Currency manipulation would seem the easiest route. I am working under a deadline. I am unemployed with only about nine weeks of unemployment checks left...It was time to make my move. It would require moving some assets and liquidating others...but if I planned it properly...it could work.

(Knock-knock)

“Who’s there?” I call out...

“Thesis.” Answered the caller at the door. He was fashionably late...

“Thesis who,” I ask as I sought to delay his entry.

“Thesis the worst excuse for a story I ever saw!”

I sighed. It was going to be one of ‘those’ stories...

Thesis Statement was fashionably late but...for one of my stories...he was still about two thousand words early. It was a battle I had fought with my favorite English professor, Barbara Morrison, many times.

My preference is to add Thesis towards the end of the tale rather than the traditional ‘beginning’ of the story.

It allows for flexibility and lets me mold Thesis around the story...as opposed to the other way around. Needless to say...English professors prefer the ‘other’ ‘other’ way around and they really hate the type of sentences I just typed...

Still...I respect Thesis and understand his role. That is why I called him in earlier than normal. As I mentioned...time was an issue...I had to get something going prior to those government checks being cut off. Besides...I’m planning on pulling off the biggest financial coup in history! Timing was of the essence.

It’s a matter of personalities. The other half of my writing team, Creative Voice, is a primadona. His preference is to produce prose which he likens to poetry. If an ending to the story is secured...it’s usually more through happenstance than design.

He delights in inserting double entendres into unlikely places in hopes that a future reader will stumble across it and crack an unexpected smile, like an innocent child, after finding a painted egg on Easter morning.

He usually achieves this through surprise and loathes Thesis’s tendency towards ruining surprises...

Thesis is always very clear in his intentions.

Knowing that Thesis Statement was on his way over, I had dispatched Creative Voice to go price Monopoly games. I wanted to discuss organization without the typical rancor. I also didn’t wish to discuss it at my house.

With Thesis, to keep me grounded and Creative Voice out and about, I decided to go somewhere I had been avoiding due to embarrassment...

On the way over to the Hub-Pub, I filled in Thesis Statement on my plans for gaining control of Canada, by using Monopoly money, and thereby gaining control of the internet.

I also alerted him to my concerns as regards my impending meeting with Betty...

The last I had seen of Betty was when I watched her drive off, after having made a complete ass of myself, awhile back.

I had gone for the metaphorical yawn...stretch...arm around her shoulder only to discover that she already had a beau...

As I recall...I played it off pretty well. Cool and aloof were my partners as I absorbed the news of her impending nuptials. No...She wasn’t engaged or nothing...but really...matter of time reasoned my subconscious...As I recall...

I really like Betty.

If I were to give my feelings a name...I don’t know...I would probably sum them up as...The Betty Situation.

Calm, poised, funny, engaging, and absolutely beautiful. This would be the best seven word description of Betty. I could do better with twelve words and less so with five...but you get my point...

To say that she’s out of my league would be suggestive of an archeological dig into understatements. Still...I am drawn...

We enter the Hub Pub.

The drinking establishment represents a mental construct I had invented awhile back to provide a sense of place in my writing. This is where I met Betty. She’s the owner...

Large and airy, the room projected warmth in its low-key ambiance. Comfortable chairs were arranged around tables and scattered about while indirect lighting threw a warm soft glow over the proceedings...

The warmest part of the room came from Betty’s smile when she saw me.

“THOUGHTS!” She yelled as she hurried from behind the bar. She ran over to me, threw her arms around my neck and held on for (in my mind) an eternity...

Beyond the scent of her hair and the press of our bodies...nothing else existed...or mattered...I mentally nestled into her arms for the duration of the winter...

It was like hugging an angel...

Important planets collapsed upon themselves. The sun explodes. Species evolved. Ecosystems fall. Famine is eradicated...famine explodes. Who the f**k cared? Not me, certainly.

Our balance shifts slightly...we continued to hug...her arms around my neck...a little tighter...my arms tighten around her slim waist as I nudge my face deeper into her lustrous black hair...

A million hydrogen bombs cook off, simultaneously, right outside the door. I fail to notice. I feel a brief heat source from that direction...I assume it's reflective heat from the glory that is...Betty.

The pleasure receptors in my brain were stuck, wide open, like the throttle of a 1970s muscle car on ten pills of pure ecstasy...

“Ahem?” The uncomfortable cough intrudes past the destruction of the cosmos into our embrace. “Ahem...?” It’s repeated...

Betty and I pull back from one another while still holding each other. Her stunning dark eyes pinioned my soul with her stare.

“Where have you been? What have you been doing? Why haven’t you come by?” Betty demands...

“Ahem! Perhaps I can explain.” This from Thesis.

As is his way...Thesis was dressed formally. Tuxedo, Kenneth Coles, cumber bun, cuff links, and bowler hat. I make the introductions...

“We are here to discuss plans to buy Canada with Monopoly money thus gaining control of the Internet. Thesis states mater of factly.

“We shall be doing so while ignoring your smoking hot beauty so my friend here will not suffer any discomfiture.” He pauses to indicate me.

I hang my head. Thesis is always very clear in his intentions and he makes for a brutally honest wing-man...

He continues, “In terms of organization you can expect that I will have two martinis (with olives), and following the second drink...I will use the restroom. After that...we will be going to the next part of the story.”

Betty stares at him. She stares at me...

“Smoking hot beauty, huh?” She asks coquettishly...

We were settled in at the end of the bar.

Thesis had his first martini and I had my traditional White Russian. Betty was sipping on a glass of house red. I explained my epiphany to Betty and how I was going to exploit it.

“And this is your response to running out of unemployment insurance? Buy Canada (which is actually the Internet) with Monopoly money...rather then getting an actual job?” Betty queries me with her pretty eyes and pouty lips...

“Yes.”

“I have some Monopoly money.” She volunteers brightly. “Would you like to use it to buy Canada which is really the internet?”

I was warmed by her belief in my vision and the beauty in her eyes...

“That would be swell Betty!”

After briefly discussing the obvious benefits of the plan...we considered the risks.

“Is this illegal?” Asks Betty in a whisper.

“Probably.” I confirmed. “I have to think that, since the idea originated in my head, and I am acting on that information...it would be a case of insider trading.”

Thesis was downing his first martini and requesting his second before saying...

“Pfft...I say good man...That will be the least of your concerns! I Imagine the Mounties won’t be too keen on your plan either! Also...your plan to enter Canada? ...Fraught with difficulties!”

We talked for awhile longer but I spent most of my time casting surreptitious glancing at Betty. Drinking in her mannerisms...marveling at her effect on my central nervous system. Trying not to twitch when my glances are caught or returned...

Thesis finishes his second drink...he leaves the olive untouched.

“See there?! I can be zany! I had indicated, to the young lady here, that I wanted to have two martinis with olives. The obvious implication was that I would eat both olives. Humph...tell that to your Creative Voice fellow! It is time for the restroom.”

“Yeah...you’re just a regular madcap there Thesis Statement.” I wryly say to his retreating back.

My attention is brought back to Betty as she takes my hand into both of hers and squeezes...

“I’ve really missed you Thoughts.” She begins earnestly...

Other planets collapsed upon themselves. The sun explodes (again). Species fall. Ecosystems evolve. A member of the Royal Canadian Mounties enters the bar...

Oh-oh...

“What’s he doing here?” Betty asks breathlessly in my ear. She squeezes my hand worriedly.

I seek to comfort her. “I’m not sure but I will go see what he wants.”

I walked up to him. He was resplendent in his crimson uniform. Blond curly hair, piercing blue eyes and a jaw line which strongly resembled a human buttock. Hanging from his tunic was Canada’s “Pretty Good Conduct” medal.

His nametag read, ‘Dudley Do-Right.’

“How’s it going officer?” I ask warily.

“Terribly...there is a miscreant tying innocent young women to Rail-Road tracks!” He declares loudly. “I must reach Mount Up before Sun Down in order to stop him! Where is my faithful steed?!”

“I think there’s a light rail station,” I informed him, relieved, “a couple blocks to the East of here.”

“That is most excellent...whoa...who is this enchanting beauty?” Dudley states flummoxed upon seeing Betty.

I bristle with jealousy...

That cartoon Constable Casanova...Dudley Do Right...began making moves on my girl. Well...she’s not my girl...she’s actually someone else’s girl...but still...

Thesis Statement emerges from the bathroom.

“OK...we are right on schedule.” He declares happily. “Let’s go meet Creative Voice and get this nailed down!”

“I can’t go.” I state simply as I cast about for a candlestick holder or a lead pipe to hit Dudley Do Right over the head with. You can never find a Game of Clue when you need one...

Thesis Statement was having none of that. “Well of course we are leaving! I indicated in the beginning of the story what the flow would be!” He drags me, protesting vehemently, out of the room.

The last I saw...Betty was fending off Dudley’s considerable charms...but how long could that last...?

We were back in my kitchen. Creative Voice had returned from his pricing mission. He had brought along Internal CD player who needed batteries. Creative Voice was surprised to see Thesis Statement already there so early.

“There are eighteen Monopoly games on local store shelves and they are about twenty dollars each.” Creative Voice reports. “Each game has $15,140 in the bank.”

We attempt to do the math. We are unsuccessful. We look to Thesis Statement for some help.

“Pfft...I’m a ‘big picture’ kind of guy. The answer to math problems is a ‘detail’ issue that is better left up to Topic Sentence.”

“Yeah, where is Topic Sentence?” Asks Creative Voice.

Internal CD player had taken the call and recorded the message.

He switches on, Sammy Hagar’s, ‘I Can’t Drive 55!’

“Oh...traffic problems, huh?”

We continued trying to fathom the math problem...Eventually...we gave up. Some math problems don’t have answers. Usually the hard ones...or the (even) numbered ones at the back of the book...

We discussed the hazards of crossing the border. Our plans were complicated by several factors. I didn’t have a passport and Creative Voice has a felony conviction that prohibits his entry onto America’s roof...Canada.

He got caught up in a weird sex/drug case that was initiated over the Internet. Canada seeks to prohibit the entry of perverts and druggies.

The border is porous, however. There are plenty of places where sex and drugs can be found on the internet. I checked...research is all...

We were going to force our egress at a remote section of the border...

We were opposite our entry point. A half moon and variable clouds made for just enough illumination to make out the entry sign into Canada.

We were a motley group as we crouched in the woods...preparing to move out. We had several suitcases filled with Monopoly money...

I was wearing my typical fare...t-shirt, flip-flops, and cargo-shorts. It was kind of cold... Thesis Statement still wore his tuxedo while Creative Voice had donned a sombrero, Mexican poncho, and a crookedly pasted on Pancho Villa mustache.

“Way to blend.” I note drily.

“Thank you.” Says Creative Voice as he peers into the darkness...

“I don’t see anyone.” Thesis Statement states nervously. He was right. This section of the border seemed unpatrolled or watched...

“Let’s do this s**t.” I initiate the proceedings...

As we were making our way through the woods...Creative Voice offhandedly mentions, “Hey, did you know that Betty broke up with her boyfriend?”

“SHUT THE F**K UP!” I yelled in surprise.

My outburst was, perhaps, a bit too boisterious for our purposes. I attracted some attention. Quite a bit of attention actually...

Spot lights were activated and turned in our direction. Alarmed voices were heard a short distance away. The ominous sound of automatic weapons being readied could be heard as their owners prepared for invasion...

Creative Voice grabs Internal CD player and escapes into the woods...

Important planets collapsed upon themselves. The sun explodes. Species evolved. Ecosystems fall. Famine is eradicated...famine explodes. Who the f**k cared? Not me, certainly.

Betty is single??

Our position is surrounded by Canadian Mounties. Real Canadian Mounties...

Thesis Statement explains his presence in a completely organized and precise fashion and is released.

I didn’t have a plan, alibi, character witness, or a cognizant excuse of why I was crouched, while inappropriately dressed, with suitcases stuffed with Monopoly money on an International border...

All I had were images of an unfettered Betty running through my head...

A number of jurisdictions were vying for a piece of my ass.

Turns out...Canada actually is a real country, with a fairly efficient National Police force.

Theirs was a policy of frowning on illegal immigration, currency manipulation with Hasbro-based currency, and reducing more than 150-years of national sovereignty into a mental caricature of the internet.

South of the border my legal problems include wire fraud, Security and Exchange violations and tax charges. Even though the money was proven to come from a children’s game...the I.R.S still wanted their share.

Betty knew a lawyer. His name was Mark. He was proficient at his craft and he (somewhat) resembled the American actor...George Clooney...although...that may have just been his haircut...

I signed a plea deal that guaranteed I would be incarcerated in the Monopoly game jail. Plea Bargain conditions stipulated that I would be unable to use a ‘Get out of Jail Free’ card or through the standard payment of $50 (Hasbro).

I was allowed to try for double sixes but this was only in an attempt to be included in a work party. A chance to get out of the dorm...

Incarceration. The primary concern was boredom and idle thoughts. Like Adolph Hitler did in Landsberg Prison...I got some writing done. A short story about Canada...

Mostly...I read books and thought about Betty...

My minds eye would continuously start at her perfectly coifed hair and trace down to her meticulously manicured toes. It would then begin the slow journey upward...only to be repeated a few dozen times a day. My mind’s ear would replay every scrape of conversation we ever had together...

The majority of my cell-mates were short timers with a few notable exceptions...

Colonel Mustard was brought in on charges of Capital Murder... (Using the rope in the Billiards Room)...The doctor from the Operation Game was convicted of criminal neglect for operating while under the influence of strong drink...

The cops would periodically set up a D.U.I. checkpoint on the other side of Marvin Gardens, right before it hits Pennsylvania Avenue, and that would fill the dorm up for a few weeks. Occasionally, a guy would get picked up on a warrant out of Community Chest or Chance...

Time passes...

Every now and then...Thimble would come and visit. These visits corresponded with trips to pay her bill at the Electric Company...over off Saint Charles Place.

She would sit on the other side of the table...sewing...as we chatted about things. I liked these visits. They reminded me of Betty.

Betty (I was surprised to find) likes to sew and has all the necessary equipment to complete any necessary ‘mending.’ My memory of her impassioned defense of the skill makes me smile...

Now and again...Battleship would stop by after passing Go and collecting his $200. He would put money on my books and regale me with exciting stories of exotic ports of call. He also let me know that a miscreant was tying innocent young women to the Short Line Rail-Road tracks across town...

Time passes...

After two hundred and forty two days...I was released. I had completed eight-months on a one-year sentence. I left the jail which was located in a seedy part of town...near Orient Avenue...just up the block from Baltic Avenue...a rough neighborhood...

The discreet toot of a car horn drew my eyes down the street. No way! I walked up to the shiny red Subaru parked across the street. The tinted power window glides down on the driver’s side. Betty.

“Hi convicted felon,” She says sweetly, “Do you need a ride?”

I smiled. I like Betty...