Why Montreal is Cool OR A Tale I Pulled out of my Ass
So there I was, looking forward to another nice and quiet weekend, when my good friend, Pedro (all names have been cleverly changed to
preserve some shred of anonymity), comes crashing onto my desktop with frantic MSN messages about space aliens from beyond the asteroid belt. My sock drawer REALLY needed to be cleaned and organized, however, and I knew that to be a full two days worth of work, so I had to respectfully tell Pedro that saving the world would have to wait. Much to my surprise, however, I was informed that the aliens weren’t here to kill us all, but rather to sell cheep Tupperware. I immediately packed my bags because if I can avoid paying $99.95 for molded plastic, I would willingly brave the unknown. I dropped my socks and ran straight to Pedro’s house.The first thing we had to do was get ourselves equipped. Although the space aliens from beyond the asteroid belt were purported to be harmless, we figured it was better to be safe than sorry. The first thing we had to do was head for the local army surplus / dollar store.
Now that we were appropriately attired, there was only one last stop to make before we could head off. Our old friend and mentor, Superman, would undoubtedly have a few nuggets of wisdom to pepper us with, having fought aliens on a number of occasions, not to mention the fact that he is himself and alien. Luckily, I had my tape recorder with me, so I was able to record the conversation, which I will transcribe for you verbatim, exaclty as it happened, no word of a lie.
Knock, knock.
Superman: Ah! Pedro, and D.! Please, enter my classy downtown condominium of solitude.
Pedro and D.: Thanks, Superman.
Superman: I’ve told you before, please just call me Man, or The Man, you prefer.
D.: Thanks, Man.
Pedro: Yeah, thanks, man.
Man: Well, I was just reading the paper, about to organize my sock drawer, but what can I do for you?
D.: Oh, Man! Don’t get me started on sock drawers, I’ve been trying to get to mine for months!
Man: Me too. But, you know, life just keeps getting in the way. You’d think with super powers, I would be able to find the time.
Pedro: Why don’t you hire a maid?
Man: Well, I thought about it, but I hate the idea of someone else in my place all the time, and I’d feel weird wearing the spandex all day if someone else were here, and I love to wear the spandex. It takes me back. Besides, Lex is still trying to get at me somehow, although he’s mostly confined to that mason jar. But he's still dangerous! But what can I do for you? Wheel of Fortune is about to start. Love that Vana White. Fine slice of cake, isn't she?
D.: Well, she might have been, but she’s getting on in years.
Man: When you’ve been fighting evil as long as I have, D., you learn to appreciate a mature woman. Besides, my journalist fetish is starting to wear thin. Those dolls ain’t what they used to be.
Pedro: Man, we’re headed off to buy Tupperware from space aliens from beyond the asteroid belt. We’ve got plastic multi-action artillery with real sound, but we need some advice. We figured that since you were so old, you might have some?
Man: Well, Pedro, if there’s one thing I’ve learnt in recent years, it’s that no matter how super you are, eventually, everyone needs a little help.
Luckily, Pedro had brought his paint supplies and painted this picture while we were taking, complete with The Man’s inspirational quote. Now, no one can dispute our story.
Chapter The Second - Beer and Nails OR How I Leant To Stop Worrying and listen to Rock Stars
We had everything we needed at that point, and we were ready to go. Since the space aliens from beyond the asteroid belt were in Montreal, and we were in Ottawa, we
decided that the best way to travel the 180km was by rocket. Obviously, it was not the most practical, but we both agreed that it was by far the most appropriate. Luckily, the 20:20 direct to downtown was about to leave.
As soon as we arrived, Pedro remembered that he forgot the space aliens from beyond the asteroid belt’s cell number on his end table. It was Friday night, and they were only in town until Sunday, which seemed to be plenty of time for us to find them, I mean they would stand out, right? It didn’t take us long to realize that people in Montreal are pretty weird at the best of times and that we had our work cut out for us. Our first step had to be to get good and drunk so we could start fresh in the morning, so off we headed to the nearest public house to mingle with the locals.
A couple of ale’s into the evening, Pedro started getting anxious about finding the space aliens from beyond the asteroid belt, and stumbled off to ask some of the patrons if they knew where we might find them. He returned to our table about an hour later with a black eye, three phone numbers, and tickets to the Nine Inch Nails concert. When I asked him who gave him the tickets, he pointed to an empty corner of the bar. He claimed that there was a tall, skinny, big headed dude with a bad moustache and a trench coat who said that the tickets could help us. We immediately ran off the concert to see what we could find out - after finishing the six pints that Pedro also brought back with him.
It became obvious that there was a strong connection between the space aliens from beyond the asteroid belt and Nine Inch Nails. Pedro told me that the incubators that they used were very similar to the stage props and that the lights were part of their complex and ancient mating ritual. At this point, I was glad to be standing, let alone make sense of the world. It all seemed very probable to me.
We decided that we definitely needed to get backstage to talk to Trent Reznor and find out if he knew where the Tupperware party was. Luckily, the guy with the list wasn’t too bright. We told him that our names were Candy and Bubbles and that we were here to see Trent. After checking with the band, we were ushered into the back room to find five sweaty middle aged rock stars looking at us like we had no heads.
“Candy and Bubbles are our nicknames. I love candy, nerds especially, and Pedro loves his bubble bath soap.” I explained.
“My nickname is actually Bunny,” came a surprising reply from Trent. “I bit the head off one because Ozzy told me that decapitating small animals with your mouth was good for your mental clarity. Luckily, I stopped at one. I can’t say the same for poor old Ozzy. Come in, tell me more about candy and bubbles.”
“Actually, Mr. Reznor, we are here about the space aliens from beyond the asteroid belt. Do you know where we can find them?” asked Pedro.
“Me? No. But I do know who can. Go to this address,” he said handing us a small card. “They know all about them and the nefarious evil they bring.”
“Don’t you mean ‘the cheep Tupperware they bring’?” asked Pedro.
“Make no mistake, the Tupperware is a ruse. They true purpose is much worse,” he replied.
On that note, we made our excuses and left. Pedro didn’t know what this business about evil was all about, but I told him to keep his head up and imagine the prospects of keeping celery fresh and crisp for weeks on end.
It was at this point that we realized that we hadn’t remembered to find a place for us to crash for the night. Our only option was to stay awake and wander the streets. The best thing to do, we decided, was to buy a lot of booze at “le dépanneur” and find an appropriate park bench. Since the benches were only made for one, we split up. I have to admit that I don’t remember the rest of the evening, but I woke up in an alley drooling on a very strange homemade sign.
I don’t know who “Gaylord” is, nor do I know why he is the 29th. I still maintain that it is not me since a) it was not my birthday b) my handwriting isn’t as legible a
nd c) I am philosophically opposed to carrying any such sign, whether it be a sandwich board, a foam hand, or spray painted sheet. Pedro ended up sharing his bench but he claims to have no memory of the evening either. One thing’s for sure, however: there’s nothing better than that first cigarette in the morning.
Chapter The Third - Pedro and D VS The Aliens OR In The Morning After The Music
As soon as we had finished breakfast, after walking around for a few hours to get the circulation going, doing a bit of shopping, and taking in a few of the local sights, we resumed our quest to locate the space aliens from beyond the asteroid belt and get cheap Tupperware. The building that we found at the address that Trent Reznor gave us was an old “Masonic Memorial Temple” located at the foot of Mt. Royal. We walked up the door and knocked.
“Who goes there” came a high pitched voice. Pedro and I looked around to see if there was an intercom or something that we might reply to, but there was nothing in the smooth stone of the temple.
“We’re here about the space aliens from beyond the asteroid belt” replied Pedro, uncertain but very loud so that we could be heard through the heavy doors.
“There’s no need to yell!” said another high pitched voice. This time, we could tell that the voice came from above us. We looked up, but only saw a few pigeons.
“I hope we don’t get shat on” I remarked to Pedro. I have a slight fear of being shat on by birds. Actually, I have a slight fear of being shat on by anything. Actually, it’s not so much a fear as it is a strong aversion.
“We’d only do that if you keep talking about us as if we weren’t here” came the high pitched voice again. “What purpose do you have in seeking out the space aliens from beyond the asteroid belt anyway?”
“Well, we want the cheap Tupperware, of course” replied Pedro, still obviously trying to figure out if the birds were actually talking to us, or if I had slipped him some LSD with his coffee.
“Sarcasm will get you nowhere, heroes. Yet your purpose is clear to us. Enter, and your quest to save those innocent lives will begin!” said the bird. The doors opened and we were greeted by the strangest pair of people we had ever met, and keep in mind that we just met some talking pigeons.
“What the crap…” I said to Pedro as quietly as I could.
“I don’t know D. …”
“Just because I have a Ken doll head and my wife is make of wood doesn’t mean we can’t hear, dumbasses!” said the odd looking fiddle player. “And before you ask, the evil space aliens from beyond the asteroid belt did this to us. They aren’t here to sell Tupperware, they are here to turn us into cheap busker acts for their home planet.”
Ken, which was his actual name by a strange cosmic coincidence, proceeded to explain to us all about his years battling the evil space aliens from beyond the asteroid belt, and his final defeat and narrow escape.
“If it wouldn’t have been for that bag of instant popcorn, the three pennies in my pocket, and the solar eclipse, I would be well on my way to beyond the asteroid belt to pretend to play this fiddle while my wife pretended to dance” he explained.
“That’s all very interesting” I said, “but how to we get our Tupperware?”
“There is no Tupperware, but I can help you find the evil space aliens from beyond the asteroid belt’s ship and you can save the rest of their captive before they take off” said Ken.
“Hey, whatever will bring us to the Tupperware” said Pedr
o. “Where is the ship?”
“To find it, you will need a bird’s eye view” said Ken. “Come outside with me.”
We followed him outside where, with no warning whatsoever, he threw some power at Pedro and turned him into a bird.
“Now go fly around and you will undoubtedly see their ship” explained Ken.
As it turned out, the ship was fairly easy to find, and we had to wonder why the locals hadn’t noticed it already. We headed off immediately after Pedro was returned to normal because we knew that the best Tupperware would go fast.
As we approached the ship, the space aliens from beyond the asteroid belt started to fire lasers at us. We knew that we would have to get closer to the ship to explain that all we wanted was Tupperware, and that they could have all the buskers they needed, but the lasers only intensified as we got closer. We knew that we needed a ruse clever enough to have been thought up for a Star Wars movie –at least twice, with the same character. In order to get close to our goal, we needed to have a decoy prisoner.
We set off in search of a suitable busker in the streets on Montreal. Thankfully, we needn’t have looked far. We found “Franko the Somewhat Interesting yet Mediocre” at the nearest town square. He was a perfect candidate because he was just about the light himself on fire in frustration with the lack on interest in his “art”.
After we told him that there was a captive audience of space aliens from beyond the asteroid belt (we left out the evil stuff, of course) just waiting to bring him back to their cute little planet, he was all for it. We found some handcuffs and chains, and off we went.
As we neared the spaceship, a loud voice came booming over the laser blasts, asking us what the crap we wanted. We told it that we had a peace offering, a very talented and underappreciated busker that they could take in exchange for some cheap Tupperware. The space aliens from beyond the asteroid belt were very willing to acquire this new trophy for their planet and let us through to their ship. The lead us pas a large gallery of buskers, street clowns, mimes, musical groups, and human statues until they showed us into a room full of cheep Tupperware. They gave us our pick of as much Tupperware as we could carry, which we greedily accepted.
To this day, I am thankful to the space aliens from beyond the asteroid belt. I am now able to make as many leftovers as I want and keep all kinds of fruits and veggies safe. There kindness was outstanding, even if they did have a bit a weird street performer collection fetish, but hey, who’s perfect.
Postscript OR Explanatory Note:
All of these events occurred exactly as they were detailed, somewhere, at sometime (said place and time may include, but is not limmited to “in my head” and “on another plane of existence"). This adventure is being posted mainly to showcase the creative and skillful photography of Pedro (some of which I massacred by cropping and bad copy-and-pasting) with whom I spent a really cool weekend in Montreal, seeing Nine Inch Nails and the Leafs – Habs game (which the Habs sadly lost in overtime). None of the other people in the pictures were asked for their permission, and any artwork photographed was done in blatant infringement of a number of copyright laws, I’m sure, but who cares. It’s not like I make any money off this crazy page.
Thanks for a great weekend, PF, DR, and K!
D.
