By Amelia Hankins
Dearest George,
I crave your bush and the fruits that hang within it. I know you are only a country away but it feels like 10 oceans divide us. I dream and dream and dream of you. I would do anything to have you back in my arms and to feel yours around me in return. The agony is shredding me apart. I can only hope that our plan will work, that our transformation of this country will be complete and together we can rule as kings of the new Amer-ican Empire of the North.
I have done what you told me. I have put forward the bill — the sister bill to your blessed Patriot Act. I have ensured that there will be only eight hours of Par-liamentary hearings before it is passed through. There will be no time for amendments or proper discussion. We will get our way. No one will be able to stand up to us. I will turn the people of this country against each other. Guilty until proven otherwise. And I will ensure no one bothers to prove anything.
No one will be able to protest our power once we’ve passed this through. “Terrorism” will mean whatever we want it to. Once the bill becomes law, our path to glory and triumph will be fully paved! We will sleep curled up into the crevices of each other’s bodies, night after night, knowing there’s nothing stopping us from domi-nating the Great North.
But I fear it won’t be as easy as we hoped, George. Two MPs have left my party. Thousands of peo-ple protested across the country on Saturday. They are angry with us, my love, and I can’t hide from you that I am a little scared. Four past prime ministers and five for-mer Supreme Court judges have condemned this bill. They wrote a letter along with nine other people with positions on national security and it was published everywhere.
One line about the bill still haunts me: “This results not only in devastating personal conse-quences for the individuals, but a profoundly negative impact on Canada’s reputation as a rights-respecting nation.”
George, I know we are superior to the mindless, stupid citizens that crawl all over our land like ants, but I worry about our reputation as a country. You and I both know what happens to countries that violate human rights. Things get violent. We could be put in danger. Our nights of steamy slumber will become restless and cold.
This is why I must pass this, fast and without forgiveness. I must be sure to suppress the Canadian people before they become too restless and I lose control. I can’t let them rise up because if I do I’ll have no choice but to give everything up; to give us up, to give up the juicy, juicy fruits of your loin. Don’t let me fall to this fate, my dear George. You are my better half. You are my inspiration. You are my heart, my soul, my mind.
Love always, Stephen.
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