Borderline insanity

“Oh, Bob, we couldn’t have picked a better time to visit your sister in Maine. What a beautiful summer this has become!”

“Yeah, I can’t wait. Love the Maritimes but Maine has always felt like a second home to me. Hang on, let’s do the security check. This shouldn’t take long.”

“Huh. That’s strange. I don’t recall these people wearing bright red baseball caps. Oh, well, I’m sure it’s just a coincidence.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t overthink it, honey. Good evening, officer.”

“Evenin’. Welcome to the United States of God Bless ‘Murica, Land That Ah Love.”

“What?”

“None of your lip, son. Let’s see your passport.”

“Um…I…Okay. Here you go. And this is my wife’s passport.”

“Hmmm….Let’s see now. Well, lookee here! Looks like we done got ourselves a couple of them there Can-ay-dee-ans!”

“Well, of course we’re Canadians. We’re crossing into Maine. Who else would we be?”

“Shhh, Bob…”

“If y’all are Can-ay-dee-ans, then what’s that there flag on your license plate? Ain’t never seen one of those before.”

“Really? That’s the Acadian flag. It represents French communities on Canada’s East Coast.”

“Did I say you could speak, trouble-maker?”

“But you asked me…”

“Out of the car, maggot.”?

“What? I don’t get it. We made this same trip just a few months ago and everything was fine.”

“That was before our Glorious Leader, President and Grand Poobah, Donald J. Trump, opened our eyes to the reality that all of you maple-syrup-suckin’ moose-lovers are actually a gen-u-whine, bona-fide, Grade A security threat.”

“Bob, just get out of the car. I’m sure this won’t take long.”

“You too, Ma’am. You’re as much of a freeloadin’, back-stabbin’ Justin-lover as that there husband of yours.”

“What? Well, all right, I guess. Can I take my drink with me?”

“Lemme see that…Tim Hortons! No Commie Canadian drinks allowed in the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave. You thought we were serious about our Freedom Fries? Wait’ll you see how we clobber them there Iced Capps!”

“Actually, Tim Hortons has 250 American locations…”

“You watch yer mouth, you Drake-dancin’, Beavertail-eatin’, toque-smugglin’ whipper-snapper. It’ll be Dunkin’ Donuts and nothin’ else for you traitors. You’re in the REAL world now!”

“You can’t do this to us. My lawyer will be hearing about this…”

“Oh, your LAWYER, eh? You go ahead and bring your fancy-pants Omar Kadhr-fundin’ lawyer down here, and see how he does against the awesome almighty power of the U.S. Supreme Court. You just wait ‘til Glorious Leader Trump’s nominee becomes a judge and he makes ‘Murican law great again! Yee-haw!!!”

“Jane, I don’t remember our last border security guard dancing around and firing his guns in the air.”

“Shhh, Bob…”

“Hey! You two talkin’ in them fake Can-ay-dee-an accents again? Y’all better start speakin’ ‘Murican and show some respect, afore I get my taser out and show you some bilateral exchanges. Use the best words, like Glorious Leader Trump does. Especially those double negatives. Man, I loves me a good old-fashioned double negative! Especially with some chili fries on the side…”

“Excuse me, officer. If you don’t mind me asking, why do you keep referring to your president as ‘glorious leader’?”

“Oh, we adopted that from our good buddies in North Korea. Ya know, we used ta be sore afraid of them fellas, but we’s the best of pals now. That Kim Jong-Un sure knows how to throw hisself a fine parade, don’t he?”

“But didn’t he order the assassination of…”

“Where’d you learn that fake news, boy? From your sparkly, shiny little smartphone? You hand over that piece of trash, right now!”

“We’d better give it to him, Bob.”

“Fine. Here it is.”

“Password?”

“Um…What is it again? Give me a second – oh, wait: It’s ‘bob&jane4ever.’”

“No, Bob, that’s our laptop password.”

“Oh, yeah, right. Sorry – my smartphone password is ‘bob&doug4ever.’”

“Really, Bob?”

“They’re funny guys, Jane. I could listen to their vintage back bacon jokes for hours.”

“Look at these here pinko terrorist apps! Newspapers! Public broadcastin’! Farmer’s market locations! ‘Find The Nearest Donair’! What in the Sam Hill is a ‘donair’?”

“It’s perfectly healthy…”

“No, it isn’t, Bob.”

“Okay, that’s it. You two are obviously a serious threat to our proud ‘Murican way of life. You’re goin’ in the pen with these here migrant kids we found down in El Paso.”

“What? That’s ridiculous! Don’t we even get a phone call to our lawyer, or to the Canadian ambassador?”

“Oh, you’ll get your precious phone call, all right. But it’ll be to the one Canadian we ‘Muricans can trust to tell us the truth about you igloo-buildin’, freedom-of-speech-lovin’ subervsives.”

“Who’s that?”

“I reckon y’all know a fella by the name of Stephen Harper.”

“We might be here for awhile, Jane…”