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Sep 18 , 2017


Wanker of the Week: Pillow talk

by wanker
Wanker of the Week: Pillow talk

The prime minister is padding around the master bedroom at 24 Sussex Drive as his worried wife looks on.
She can tell her sweet garcon is frustrated about something.
Justin stops at the foot of the bed and looks deep into her eyes. Sophie’s heart practically melts for him. He is clearly upset.
“Sophie, I don’t know what to do,” he says finally.
“Justin, what is it,” she asks.
“My Justin loves all the peoples of the world, mais sometimes, they do not love him,” she thinks as she regards the Haida tattoo on his bare shoulder.
“It’s the water, Sophie,” comes his answer.
She thinks for a moment.
“Are we out of San Pelligrino again ce soir?”
He sighs.
“No dear, my brothers and sisters at Potlotek cannot drink their water. It is black with manganese and iron. They cannot even bathe in their water. I do not know what to do. I have tried everything!” he says, his voice shaking with emotion.
“But, can they use the water for splashing onto the stones in the sweat lodge?”
“I haven’t checked into that.”
“But you’ve tried everything?”
“Yes. Everything.”
“So you found a place for the people of Potlotek to store their paddles and canoes, oui?”
“Yes, dear, I did that.”
“And you hugged them?”
“Yes, I’ve hugged most of them.”
“And did you do that forehead thing that I love, did you stare deeply into their eyes while you pressed your head against theirs?”
Justin can’t help but smile at the question.
“Of course I did that.”
“You are so good at that, mon amour.”
“Thank you, dear. But what else can I do? Their water is still not good, and it has not been for years. My government has committed $1.8 billion to fix this problem for reserves across the country by 2021, and we’re just not making any headway.”
“By 2021? And they are to wash in the river until then?”
She immediately regrets her incredulous tone.
“I do not know, my love,” he says quietly.
She sees that she has hurt him.
“All that money, plus the canoe storage place, plus the hugs, plus the forehead thing? Mais Justin, what else can one man do for those Indians?”
He stays silent, looking down at his slipper-moccasins.
“Perhaps it is a problem best left to the water goddess for tonight,” she suggests.
“I don’t know if there is such a thing as a water goddess...”
Sophie throws back the linens and pats the empty space next to her.
“Forget about the Indians and their Cantonese water for tonight and come to bed, mon amour.”
“It’s manganese, my dear,” he says gently.
“Whatever. I do not know these things. But I do know that I love you, my sweet Justin.”
“I love you, my sweet Sophie.”

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