BEAVER VERSUS BUSH
“What are you dressed up as ?” she says with contempt. His costume does not follow any guidelines of how a costume should look. If anything his choice of costume reeks of weakness. She on the other hand is dressed up like a totem pole.
“I’m the guy who’s been sleeping in bed with the elephant,” he says with a hint of clandestine wit. He knows history. His costume consists of 1) a pair of pyjamas from Army and Navy purchased for 9.99 and 2) a fake flattened left arm made out of cardboard. His good left arm hugs his mid-section which is slowing filling up with beer.
“What’s that got to do with Canada ?” she asks with all the confidence of an interrogator one question away from proving someone is woefully inept at the whole business of life.
“Living next to America is like sleeping with an elephant,” he says, quoting his countries most infamous prime minister.
She stares at him like he’s spouting poetry from another planet.
“Get lost you creep,” she says. She walks away to join the group of guys dressed like beavers. They are talking about an imagined wrestling match between a man called the Beaver and a man called the Bush.
They laugh the length of their entire costume adorned bodies.
He leaves the party and walks out into the night. No more parties based on Canadian icons, he tells himself. He whistles Stompin’ Tom Connors songs on the way home.