This requires a bit of explanation. I've been up since 4 a.m. U.S. CST and it is now half past 3 p.m., so I take no responsibility for this. I've given four lectures and graded approximately 120 student essays in that time as well, so I'm probably certifiable.
Anyway, as I sat in my office at noon talking to the geography department at my university which is comprised of one very nice man who is part Canadian, the conversation turned to upcoming elections in the Northwest Territories which will determine the new name for that section OFM hails from. One of the leading contenders (in second place) is Bob. I'm not making this up, for those of you who think sleep deprivation has taken over. I'm staring at an article from the Boston Sunday Globe which details the attempt to make Bob the official name of the western section of the Northwest Territories (the east has already been named Nunavut).
So, as my mind slipped in and out this afternoon, I wondered, "How's Fraser going to take this?" And here's the result.
Please feel free to take the idea and make a real story from it. I freely admit this has no plot and little else.
Rated G
Standard Disclaimer: Fraser and Ray belong to Alliance, etc. I'm insane and broke, so don't sue.
He couldn't stand it. When Fraser got that lost puppy expression, it ate away at Ray until he just had to ask. Maybe it was growing up Catholic, or maybe it was growing up with Frannie, but for whatever reason, Ray was inevitably consumed by guilt whenever his best friend wore that mournful look. Ray just felt compelled to atone. He tossed his pen down.
"Okay, Benny," he said in disgust. "Give. You look like somebody up and died."
"Well, Ray," the Mountie replied, "that's not an inappropriate analogy in the circumstances."
Ray pushed back in his chair and waited for it. While prying details out of Fraser could sometimes be about as easy as getting good cannoli in a sushi bar, he eventually came to his point. Ray might have to tune out one of those interminable Inuit stories, but Benny usually got him there.
Perhaps that was why Fraser's flat, single-statement response made Ray nearly fall off his chair.
"My home will soon be gone, Ray."
Shocked, Ray nearly applauded. That fleatrap Benny lived in should have been demolished decades ago, and Ray nearly said so. A look at his friend's face, though, told him the Mountie wasn't talking about his apartment.
"What?" Ray cracked, reverting to sarcasm while he searched for an appropriate response. "Canada break off the continent and drift to the tropics? Hit any ships on the way?"
"No, Ray," Fraser said, and Ray waited to be told he was silly. He was disappointed. "You see, in approximately two and a half years, the Northwest Territories will become two separate territories rather than one. The eastern portion will be called Nunavut and will be a semi-autonomous homeland for the Inuit. The western portion will soon vote on a name." Fraser paused and cleared his throat. "Apparently, assuming people reply truthfully when polled, I may soon be from . . . ."
Ray leaned forward, incredulous. "Where?"
"Bob."
Fraser practically whispered the name, and Ray couldn't blame him. "I always knew you Canadians were nuts, Fraser, but 'Bob'? You're kidding, right?"
But the Mountie's stoic expression told him otherwise. "I suppose you could claim it was named for your dad." Benny gave him the hard stare for that weak crack. Ray shrugged, still not sure what sort of reply he was expected to make.
"I can't be from Bob, Ray," Fraser continued. "I've always been from the Territories--only now they aren't the Territories."
Ray began to get it. It wasn't so much that Fraser was concerned about the name itself, it was that he didn't like the change. Benny had trouble with change. "That guy you're always quoting," Ray began, knowing full well it was Shakespeare but willing to let Benny get some confidence back by knowing the answer, "didn't he say something like a 'rose by any other name smells as sweet'?"
"Shakespeare," Benny immediately identified the quotation. "I believe the quotation is actually 'that which we call a rose / By any other name would smell as sweet.'"
"Whatever," Ray drawled.
"_Romeo and Juliet_."
Ray bit back a smile, and said nothing. Let Benny use a pry bar for a change.
"I fail to see what Shakespeare has to do with my problem, Ray."
"I fail to see why this *is* a problem," Ray said. "So you're from Bob."
Fraser gave him a steely look. "I don't believe you are taking the matter seriously," he said. "How would you like to explain you were from Chicago in the state of Louise?"
Ray shrugged, and tried not to laugh. "Americans are rotten at geography, Benny. They would just think I meant to say Louisiana. Now
Chicago in Gertrude could be a problem." He sighed. "Look, it's like the Shakespeare thing. It doesn't matter what you call it, it's still home, right?"
Benny nodded curtly. "I suppose, Ray, but I seriously hope something else wins."
Ray grinned. "So what else is in the running?"
Fraser adjusted the sleeve of his red serge tunic. "Northwest Territories--"
"There you go," Ray cut in.
"--Arctic Polar, Westervut, Goodland, Tundraland, Freedom Territory, Eskimo Pie--"
"*Ice* cream? They want to name this place after *ice* cream?"
"Well, it's only a possibility, Ray."
"Man, you'd better hope they go with Bob." Ray said. "Come on." Getting to his feet, Ray nodded toward the door. "All of a sudden I'm hungry."
END
Leigh A. Adams
adderlygirl@yahoo.com
(complimentary psychiatric counselling accepted)