The Taxi pulls up to the curb leading to the XwC Corporate Office Building. As the back door opens out steps Dewey Smarts, dressed in his norm of blue leather pants, white Canadian Made muscle tee-shirt, and his multiple shades of blue hair. He shields his eyes from the bright glare of the sun off the windows that make up the huge Office Complex.

The Dewster: I need some Canadian Made sunglasses. Darn basted Un-Canadian Sun.

Before Dewey can begin walking towards the building the taxi driver yells out.

Taxi Driver: Hey, idiot you gonna pay this toll or am I gonna have to whip ya?

Dewey turns around and faces the taxi driver who looks as pissed as Red Star�s momma when she found out he had a wiener and wasn�t the little girl she had always wanted and thought he�d be. Didn�t stop her from dressing him in pink dresses though, did it?

The Dewster: You Un-Canadian�s get your panties in a wad quite often don�t you?

Before the taxi driver can respond Dewey tosses him a wad of cash and then turns and walks towards the high rise building. As he approaches the door he just about gets knocked over and down the steps by two Security Officers who have another man by each arm dragging him out of the building while he kicks and yells how XwC will regret this. Dewey pays the trio little attention as he walks into the building. At first Dewey looks around the lobby as if he�s a lost Un-Canadian whore standing on some busy Un-Canadian city of lust intersection corner just waiting to be picked up by an Un-Canadian piece of scum. Usually how Kristy Kaos looks while she�s waiting for her brother to pick her up for their weekend rendezvous.

Finally one of the passersby�s, obviously a Canadian, stops and gives Dewey directions to his desired destination. After which he turns towards the right and wonders down the hall. After a few moments more he finds some elevators and presses the button calling the elevator to the lobby floor. After waiting what seems to be forever Dewey tries the button again and again and still nothing.

The Dewster: Darn Un-Canadian contraption must be broken.

Dewey turns and begins looking for the door that reads stairs. After a few moments he finds the door and begins his long ascent up the stairs which remind him of an American Airlines 747, not enough room. Guess they don�t make first class stairs. If they did they�d be in Canada no doubt. No use wasting first class anything on second class Un-Canadians.

At about the tenth floor mark Dewey begins passing by other people. A man in a cowboy hat, very Un-Canadian, who wouldn�t hurt from climbing the stairs day after day and losing a few extra hundred pounds. He then passes a woman who wouldn�t hurt from being on a Canadian diet and losing some weight herself. Dewey then passes a huffing woman who could easily be passed off as Bill Clinton�s missing intern Fatica Lewinsky� then Dewey realizes it�s not a woman�

The Dewster: Oops, excuse me Mr. Big O (O as in Over Weight).

When Dewey finally reaches the eighteenth floor he exit�s the stairwell and walks down the hall to the right. At the third door he opens and walks into a small receptionist office. Dewey finds a receptionist sitting at a hardwood varnished desk filing, nope not papers, her nails and blowing bubbles with her chewing gum, very Un-Canadian like. She doesn�t appear to notice he had walked into the room as her attention hadn�t been adverted to his presence.

The Dewster: (Clearing throat) Excuse me�

Receptionist: Sssshhhh� Can�t you see I�m on my lunch break?

Dewey looks around and notices no sack lunch, then again she does appear to be needing to lose a few pounds, as do most Un-Canadians.

The Dewster: Since you�re not eating, No! Looks to me you�re like every other Un-Canadian receptionist� Lazy.

The Receptionist stops filing her nails and looks up at Dewey for the first time.

Receptionist: You don�t work here, do you?

The Dewster: (Looking Confused) Uh, no.

Receptionist: In that case screw off.

The Dewster: Woman, have you no Canadian manors? Don�t you know you don�t talk like that to a Canadian?

The Receptionist looks at Dewey as if he�d lost his last marble.

The Dewster: Thanks for the offer anyway. But I�m not into Un-Canadian Sluts.

The Receptionist turns a bright shade of red as her anger point seems to have been reached.

Receptionist: How dare� Wait� What�s the difference between an Un-Canadian Slut and a Canadian Slut?

The Dewster: About $1.99 and a jar of peanut butter.

Receptionist: What's the peanut butter for?

The Dewster: Do yourself a favor and trust a Canadian. You don't want to know.

After a few moments of silence.

The Dewster: Listen if you�d just stop doing whatever it is your not doing for one moment then I�ll be finished and you can go back to doing whatever it was you weren�t doing in the first place.

Receptionist: Fine, what is it you want?

The Dewster: To see someone about me signing my Canadian John Hancock on the dotted line of an XwC Contract.

Receptionist: Do you have an appointment?

The Dewster: No, I�m Canadian. (He says with a wide grin as if that makes a difference.)

The Receptionist looks down at a black appointment book lying open on her desk.

Receptionist: I have an opening two weeks from today at 1:15pm.

Dewey looks astonished.

The Dewster: Two weeks! Woman, have you no Canadian sense?

Receptionist: I�m sorry but unless you have an appointment I can�t do anything for you.

The Dewster: Maybe I didn�t clarify myself.

Dewey places his hands on the edge of the receptionist�s desk and stares down at her as his eyes meets her eyes he has only one last thing to say.

The Dewster: I�m Canadian!

Receptionist: Oh, I see.

The Dewster: It�s about darn time.

Receptionist: So your telling me that since your Canadian that you shouldn�t have to make an appointment. That you, being Canadian, should just be able to walk right in the front door announce that you�re a Canadian and should just be given whatever it is that you want? Is that about right?

The Dewster: Your getting the idea now. Keep this up and you�ll soon be Canadianized and could then become one of Canada�s own. Just think, you, an official Canadian Citizen.

The receptionist jumps up and begins pointing towards the door.

Receptionist: Get out before I call Security!

The Dewster: Did I not tell you about the free tee-shirt to every new converted Canadian Citizen?

The receptionist pushes a button and hollers for Security. Within a few moments the same two Security Officers arrive that were throwing the man out of the building when Dewey had walked in. One man tries to grab Dewey by the arm.

The Dewster: Get your Un-Canadian hands off me.

Dewey turns towards the receptionist.

The Dewster: I hope you know this means no free tee-shirt for you?

The two Security Officers grab Dewey by his arms and begin dragging him out of the Office.

The Dewster: YOU CAN�T TREAT A CANADIAN LIKE THIS!!!

To be continued�