All’s well that ends well, as they say. Our runaway bird situation resolved itself this morning when Bill Shatner made a final attempt to seize the microphone while cleverly disguised as a spotted snow emu.
Our snow emu was immediately intrigued, and in the shade of the giant Christmas Tree, it made… er… romantic advances. Then dropped dead of shock on discovery of the gallant captain under the feathered disguise. Bill was devastated. It was the closest he’d come to “third base” in years.
With that, we dragged the emu directly to the feast igloo, where Carlo Rota plucked and dressed the bird, then stuffed it with open beer cans. Bill looked on enviously, muttering, “I… am… Canadian… too. I… am… Canadian. Spock! Do… something.”
This afternoon the villagefolk and their children will converge on the feast igloo to festoon it with streamers and balloons. Well… strips of rabbit hide and inflated seal bladders, actually. But they impart a festive feeling, nonetheless. Tonight, we’ll pass around the Molson’s and listen to Bob and Doug (the other ones) sing the Twelve Days of Christmas until the wee hours.
And tomorrow… tomorrow Christmas Eve is finally here.