Mack Hall, HSG
See Quebec by
Helicopter
Clever folks, those Quebecois – twice this spring
prisoners in the province have escaped by helicopter.
In March, Benjamin Hudon-Barbeau (hyphenated names are
like, y’know, so sophisticated, and, like, stuff) and Danny Provencal, left off
serving time in St. Jerome Prison near Montreal and took a helicopter
tour. They were quickly recaptured. They said they were ready to die, but
apparently they really weren’t.
When the police officer cried “I arrest you in the name
of the Queen!” the prisoners replied “Oui, Monsieur Le Fascist Pig; I’m cool
with that.”
No, really, they didn’t; I just made that up.
In early June, Yves Denis, Denis Lefebvre, and Serge
Pomerleau also skipped recess by whirlybird, this time at Orsainville Detention
Center. According to the Daily Mail a judge permitted them extra
time together in the yard together in order to help plan their trial defense on
drug and murder charges.
The police are curious as to who might have helped the
lads go up, up, and away.
Hey, Dudley Do-Right, you might want to
talk to that judge, okay?
But Yves, Denis, and Serge too are back
in the nick planning the future. They shouldn’t think of booking Air Canada for
their next adventure, though; the service is awful and the cabin crew feature
all the charm and helpfulness of “Knuckles” McGurk, “Stan the Shiv” Deadenov,
and Barbie “I-Know-Where-the-Bodies-are-Buried” Kowalsky in the exercise yard.
So how big are prison yards in Quebec? Do they often land aircraft like that? Imagine being a prison guard, and a big ol’
helicopter lands on the prison grounds in front of you. Wouldn’t you, like, y’know, notice it?
Sergeant Preston of the Yukon and his dog King never
permitted their prisoners (who always seemed to be named Lucky Pierre or some
such) to escape at all, either by helicopter or by dogsled.
One supposes that now King would be a bionic transgender
superhero rabbit or something. King
would take down the renegade helicopter with subhyperubersonic beams from his
glowing green eyes.
And speaking of criminals in helicopters, do you wonder
if anyone in D.C. knows where the Internal Revenue Service email messages
are? Did Lucky Pierre spirit them away
to the Yukon and bury them under a rock in an abandoned gold mine near Dawson
in a plan to betray Canada by selling them for filthy lucre to Vladimir
“Snidely Whiplash” Putin?
King the wonder dog could leap and grab Grubstake Charlie
by his arm to keep him from shooting Sergeant Preston, who discovered the
secret map to the gold mine on the dead body (the map, not the gold mine, was
on the body) of Lucky Pierre who had been shot by Grubstake Charlie in a fight
over cards at the Malamute Saloon (now a Tim Horton’s) while Robert W. Service
took careful notes.
“Grubstake Charlie, I arrest you in the name of the
Crown! And I’ll see to it that these
unlawfully purloined records are returned to their rightful owners, the
freedom-loving people and the democratically-elected government of the United
States, that glorious and ever-vigilant republic south of the 49th
parallel and Canada’s greatest friend in the tireless and ongoing fight against
evil. Right, King?”
“Ruff!”
“Well, King, this case is closed.”
“Ruff!”
“On, King! On, you
huskies!”
-30-
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