Nova Scotia In Lobster Land
Nova Scotia opened his eyes slowly, sniffing the air around him. He got up from his bed and stretched his body, yawning and smacking his lips. "Good morning," he greeted himself, smiling brightly. He went up to his drawer and took off his nightwear, folding it up neatly and storing it in the upper draw.
Nova Scotia put on a light blue collared shirt and a smart, bright red tie. He layered on his navy blue tartan gown and kilt and slipped his light green knee-length shorts underneath. Nova Scotia draped his black ribbon around his shoulders and went into the kitchen.
"Hmm… What shall I have for breakfast today?" he thought, rubbing his chin. He opened the fridge and took out two bacon rashers. Fetching a frying pan from the cooking utensil cupboard and igniting the stove, he walked over to the bread bin and retrieved two slices of bread, putting them into the toaster. Simultaneously, he also boiled some water in the kettle and brewed himself some tea, with one sugar cube and some milk.
Nova Scotia fried the bacon in the pan, watching it sizzle and taking in the delicious aroma. A few seconds later, his toast popped out, light brown on both sides. Nova Scotia turned off the stove and built a bacon sandwich, topping it with brown sauce to give it extra kick. He carried his sandwich and cup of tea over to the sofa and turned on the TV.
Nova Scotia munched on his sandwich, swapping it regularly with sipping his tea, while he watched TV. Suddenly, something on TV caught his eye. It was an advert for the new theme park, Lobster Land, which had just opened on the outskirts of Riverville. The slogan – "All Things Lobsters!" As it was their launch day, they were having a special promotion – first-timers to the park got free entry. "Ooh," he cooed, "I must see what it's all about. But first, I need a lovely warm shower." He finished off his sandwich and tea, and washed his dirty cutlery. His pet fish, Pictou, New Glasgow and Stellarton, and New Brunswick's pet fish, Fredericton, were all hungry, so he fed them all with the fish food. He whistled to them sweetly as he fed them, and they all nibbled happily at their breakfast flakes.
Nova Scotia had a quick, hot shower, and he put his shirt, tie, gown, kilt and shorts back on. He took the black ribbon and tied it double around his waist; one knot at the back and one knot on the right of his stomach. He put on some clean shoes and socks, brushed his teeth and left the house, locking the door behind him.
He strolled to the nearest bus stop and waited patiently for a few minutes, sitting on the bench. Afterwards, to his surprise, a very special bus came along. It had Lobster Land insignia plastered all over it; the driver was dressed in a vivid red, like a cooked lobster, and a few people were on it. "Oh, Jollimore!" Nova Scotia exclaimed, stepping onto the bus. "Morning," he greeted the driver, who said the same to him. "Morning, all," he greeted the other passengers on the bus. He sat beside a kind and mild young man, who welcomed him warmly.
The bus careered through the streets of suburban Riverville, and arrived onto a highway. It zipped up the road until it came to a turn indicated with a Lobster Land sign. The bus rolled on down the lane, finally arriving in a car park. The bus pulled up in a space especially reserved for buses, and everyone disembarked, Nova Scotia himself included.
Nova Scotia took a look at the park. It was hustling and bustling; people were going on the lobster-themed rides, eating lobster dinners at the many restaurants and cafés, watching chefs preparing lobsters, musicians (like himself) singing about Nova Scotia and lobsters, fishermen catching lobsters… Almost everything that was going on in the park had to do with lobsters. Nova Scotia breathed in the lobster-flavoured air. "Mmm! It's a lobster paradise!" he cried excitedly. Feeling elated, he dashed to the entrance.
A man dressed as a lobster came up to him from two other people dressed as lobsters parading the entrance. "Hi! My name's Lunenburg," he greeted Nova Scotia. "Lunenburg, eh?" wondered Nova Scotia, rubbing his chin. "You remind me of MY pet lobster. He was called Lunenburg, too," he added, smiling a sad smile, nodding. "Really? Aww…" Lunenburg gushed, blushing, clasping his hands together. "Hee hee. Well, I'm part of the travelling band here at Lobster Land. We're called The Crust-Amazes. I'm the lead singer." Nova Scotia whistled in interest. "Ooh! I'm a music student, so I know what you're talking about," he chirped. Lunenburg nodded in agreement. "Well, have a great day out here at Lobster Land! Look out for me, Lunenburg The Lobster!" He went off into the park to meet up with his fellow band members. "What a great guy," Nova Scotia thought to himself, and he entered the park, taking advantage of the "first-timers go free" incentive.
Nova Scotia scanned the park for a ride to go on. As it was his first visit here, he could get anything free – even food and drinks. He spotted a ride called the Lobster-Coaster (which, as you guessed it, was a lobster-themed rollercoaster). "That's a good-looking ride," he agreed, strolling over to the booth. The receptionist hadn't seen him before, so he assumed he was a first-timer, so he let him go on free of charge.
Nova Scotia waited in the queue, which was fortunately very short, as it was early in the day. He boarded the ride and pulled down the safety bar, so he wouldn't go flying. "Ready?" asked the engineer. "Ready!" everyone on the ride shouted back, Nova Scotia himself included. The engineer pulled the lever, and the ride began to skim along slowly.
Nova Scotia admired the view from his carriage as the rollercoaster cruised along at a steady speed, climbing up a hill. "You can see for miles round here," he said to the passenger beside him. "Look! You can even see Sunset City!" He pointed out Sunset City in the distance. "Oh, wow!" the passenger gasped in awe.
The rollercoaster reached a peak, and suddenly shot down a mountain at high speed. Everybody on the ride, even Nova Scotia, screamed like mad as it zoomed down, their hands up in the air. The rollercoaster zipped around twists, bends and loops speedily, with everyone shrieking loudly. Nova Scotia, as well as all the others, made sure to hold on tight to the safety bars when it came to the loops, so that he wouldn't fall out.
After coming off the rollercoaster, Nova Scotia felt an adrenaline rush. "Whoo! That was so much fun!" he cheered. "Now, what other ride shall I go on today?" He spotted some bumper cars shaped like lobsters in different colours. "Great! Lobster bumper cars!" he whistled. "I'll go on." He strolled over to the bumper cars and got into a green lobster bumper car.
A few seconds later, a klaxon sounded, and everyone began to drive their lobster cars around. Nova Scotia tried to crash someone else, but he got bumped first, by a man in a red lobster carriage. "Ooh!" exclaimed Nova Scotia, almost jolting right out of his car. "Ha ha! You alright?" laughed the man. Nova Scotia got back into his carriage. "Yeah. I'm good," he smiled. "Great," replied the man, who reversed out of Nova Scotia's way. Nova Scotia drove around the arena, trying to thump everyone who obstructed him. But usually he was the one who got bumped. A man in a blue lobster car crashed into his carriage, making him almost jump out again. "Ooh!" cried Nova Scotia, and the man chuckled. "Ooh, a blue lobster carriage," Nova Scotia remarked. "Yep. Very rare, they are," the man replied. "Uh-huh," nodded Nova Scotia. And for a laugh, he bumped him back. "Ow!" shouted the man, nearly jolting out of his car. Nova Scotia giggled, and everyone continued to crash into him, always laughing it off afterwards.
Finally, the klaxon sounded again, and everyone got out of the cars. "You enjoyed it?" asked a passer-by, who was about to go on the ride. "Yeah," Nova Scotia answered back. "I only ever bumped one person, though!" He chuckled heartily and left to go onto another ride – the Lobster Pots.
Nova Scotia clambered into one of the pots and locked the door shut. A horn blew and the pots began to spin around. To make them spin even more, some engineers standing beside the ride whirled some of the pots around. "Ooh-ah!" cried Nova Scotia, as the pots twirled around even faster. "Pretend you're all lobsters being boiled in a pot!" yelled one of the engineers. Everyone on the ride listened to him, and Nova Scotia did a bracing position, as did everyone else. Someone in another pot made the sound of water bubbling and boiling. A group of people in another pot chanted a strange incantation as the pots picked up speed. The engineers continued to spin the pots until they were all spinning around speedily. "Ooh! Ah! Ooh! Hah!" clamoured Nova Scotia, whirling around in the pot, still bracing himself. The engineers kept on spinning the pots, making everybody scream, much like lobsters being boiled for dinner.
Nova Scotia left the pots and decided to stave off the rides, as he'd decided he'd been on them enough for now. He thought about his new good friend, Lunenburg. "Hmm… Where could he be?" he wondered, rubbing his chin. He attracted the attention of a passer-by. "Excuse me," he asked politely. "Do you know where the band is right now?" The passer-by thought for a second. "They're right over there, behind the rollercoaster," he replied. "Thanks," said Nova Scotia, and he left for where Lunenburg and his band were.
Nova Scotia strolled to where Lunenburg and his band were currently playing. He saw a huge crowd cheering and screaming Lunenburg's name shrilly. "Ah, there he is," he smiled. Lunenburg was setting up his microphone, fixing the knots in the wires and plugging it into an amplifier. He extended the stand and cleared his throat. "Hello, Riverville!" he announced, his voice echoing everywhere. Everyone screamed even louder. "I'm named Lunenburg. And this is my band, the Crust-Amazes. As you can all clearly see, I'm the lead singer! Let me introduce my fellow band members."
The crowd whistled and cheered loudly. "The keyboard player… Wolfville!" announced Lunenburg proudly. Wolfville slid his fingers (or rather, his pincers) down his keyboard, and the crowd cheered. "The guitarist… Tatamagouche!" Tatamagouche played a little jingle on his guitar, and the crowd cheered again. "The backing vocalist… Pictou!" Pictou serenaded the crowd melodiously. "PICTOU! PICTOU! PICTOU! PICTOU!" chanted the crowd rapturously. "The bass guitarist… Dartmouth!" Dartmouth played a few deep notes on his bass guitar. The crowd cheered and whistled sharply. "The drummer… Digby!" Digby played that song that you always hear whenever someone says something funny in those old theatre shows. The crowd laughed in unity and cheered once more. "And the lead singer, oh yes…" Lunenburg yelled enthusiastically, "Is ME! Lunenburg!" The crowd cheered very noisily, and some fans chanted his name passionately. "OH, YEAH!" screamed Lunenburg. "So, you ready to party?" The crowd said "Yes" all together. "What's that? Can't hear you!" shouted Lunenburg, putting his hand behind his ear. "You ready to party?" "Yes!" the crowd shouted a little louder. "Say again? I still can't hear you!" shouted Lunenburg again, his hand behind his ear. "YOU READY TO PARTY?!" "YES!" screamed the crowd noisily.
"ALRIGHT!" screamed Lunenburg very loudly. Digby tapped a few times on the cymbals on his drum-kit. "LET'S GET THIS PARTY STARTED, RIGHT!" yelled Lunenburg extremely noisily, and all his fellow band members began to play their instruments. Pictou crooned a little ditty as the song started up. "Everybody wants to go to Canada, they wanna visit a very special place…" Lunenburg began to sing. "On the coast near the Atlantic Ocean, lies a land with a pretty little face…" The crowd cheered so loudly that they could be heard from miles away. "I wanna, I wanna…" crooned a young fan, and right beside him, another young fan held up a sign proclaiming her feelings to Lunenburg. "I love you, Lunenburg!" she screamed joyfully. Nova Scotia danced spiritedly, clicking his feet together. "Such passion is felt in both my heart and his band's," he remarked, twirling around gracefully and clapping his hands to the melody.
It was now mid-afternoon, and Nova Scotia needed a little snack. "Ah-ha," he exclaimed, heading over to a small café to the west of the centre of the park. In the little fenced-off marshland next to the café, some fishermen were catching some of the finest-quality fresh lobsters and delivering them to the café chefs – so it truly was from their back yards. "Good," smiled Nova Scotia, looking at the freshly-caught lobsters. He went up to wait in the queue, which wasn't very long either, much to his luck. Again, as it was his first visit to Lobster Land, everything was free. He ordered a large fresh premium lobster with extra meat wrapped up in newspaper, cooked in its own juices for additional flavour. "Extra-juicy quality lobster with more meat coming right up," said the chef. "Alright," Nova Scotia answered back, and he waited good-naturedly for his snack to be ready.
A few minutes later, Nova Scotia's snack was all prepared. "Here you go," said the chef, handing his lobster over. "Thanks," Nova Scotia replied. He took the newspaper-wrapped lobster over to a small picnic table outside the café and took a fork, spoon and lobster cracker with him.
Nova Scotia unwrapped the lobster. The newspaper was greased with juice. Nova Scotia took the cracker and placed the lobster in between. He squeezed the handles together powerfully, and the lobster cracked into many pieces, sending shards of its hard outer shell flying everywhere, revealing the premier, extra-juicy, abundant meat inside. Using the fork, he flaked the meat into little shreds. "Now, let's tuck in," he said. He picked up the spoon and began to devour the first-class, super-juicy bounty of lobster meat, savouring every mouthful with great gusto.
Nova Scotia dipped his hands in the lemon-scented water and dried them off with a napkin. He took his lobster shell and newspaper, and recycled them both; he put the lobster shell into the lobsters' sack of feed so they could be nourished well, and the newspaper into a recycling bin.
Nova Scotia left the café and stopped a few metres away from it in the outside dining area, looking around himself. He pondered on what he was going to do next in the park. All of a sudden, he heard his stomach growl. "Uh oh," said Nova Scotia, looking down at himself, putting his hands on it. Unbeknownst to him, a man with a video camera came up behind him and flipped out the screen, pressing the record button. Nova Scotia's stomach grumbled even louder, and he put his hands by his sides. Suddenly, he let a huge one rip in front of everyone around him, a puff of brown sulphur gas billowing into the air. "Oops!" he exclaimed, looking at his posterior. "Sorry!" Some people around him laughed, and the man with the video camera did a victory dance. "Whoo! Alright! I got it all on video! This is definitely going on Canadians Do The Funniest Things!" He pressed the stop button and rushed off to the café to upload the video onto his computer. "I hope he didn't mean that," whispered Nova Scotia to himself, the brown sulphur cloud still wafting in the air behind him.
Shrugging, he went over to a juice bar opposite the café and waited in the very short queue. He ordered a bag of lobster-flavoured chips, some hot lobster broth and a lobster roll with prawn coleslaw. For refreshment, he ordered a freshly-squeezed lemonade, made using fresh organic lemons grown in an orchard near Sunset City. Again waiting patiently for his order, he received his appetizers and sat down at a picnic table inside. Just as he sat down, he lifted himself sideways off the bench slightly and cut the cheese again. "Oh! I'm so sorry," he apologized. He tore his bag of chips open, arranging them on the plate with his lobster roll. He munched on his roll and chips and sipped his lobster broth, drinking some of his lemonade every so often to keep himself hydrated.
Tidying up his table and recycling all the packaging, Nova Scotia left the bar and looked for another ride to go on. He let loose another gassy blast as he caught sight of the Lobster Trap Flume. "Ooh, sorry," he apologized. He headed for the ride, and the receptionist at the booth told him that the 'lobster traps' were covered in glass as well as wood, so everyone who went on wouldn't get soaked.
Nova Scotia boarded one of the traps and one of the engineers shut the door, locking it for security. He scanned around the ride, looking at all the twists, turns and waterfalls. The passenger next to him turned to face him. "You having a great time here?" he asked. "Yeah. It's really packed! I guess the advertising campaign worked, eh?" replied Nova Scotia, nodding and beaming brightly. Just then, the ride started up and began to cruise along the water paths. Everyone, Nova Scotia himself included, looked around and admired the views all over, spotting faraway cities like Sunset City and Black City in the distance.
Nova Scotia held onto the safety bar in front of him as the trap climbed a mountain, as did everyone else. The trap reached the summit and zipped down a waterfall, sending water splashing everywhere, everyone screaming with their hands up in the air. But as the trap was made of glass and wood, no one got wet. Nova Scotia leaned forward a little to grab the safety bar again as the ride sped around a sharp bend. But as he did so, he cut another stinky explosion. "Ooh," the passenger next to him remarked, holding his nose. "Sorry," Nova Scotia apologized. "That's okay," the passenger answered back.
The ride circumnavigated the whole track a few more times, finally coming to a halt at the entrance. As Nova Scotia left the ride, he spotted a crushed, lifeless red lobster on the ground, pieces of its shell on the floor, its tail torn up, blood and water surrounding it. He could see its flaky meat and some little black lobster eggs inside; some of them had spilled out onto the surface. Nova Scotia clicked his tongue against his teeth. "Poor little dear," he sympathized. He went over to the dead lobster and bent down to pick it up. Just as he bent down, he broke wind, a brown sulphur puff emanating from his backside. "Sorry," he apologized to everyone around him. The passers-by accepted his apology. He curled his arms around the deceased lobster, spilling some of its eggs and meat, picking it up and taking it over to the café where he had been to before. "You little crustacean," Nova Scotia crooned softly to the lobster, touching and stroking it tenderly. He placed it in the lobsters' sack of feed, feeling morose. "Another young life taken too soon," he lamented, nodding dejectedly, walking away.
Nova Scotia spotted a big wheel with lobster-shaped carriages and smiled broadly. He boarded a yellow lobster carriage and an engineer locked the door shut. Once all the carriages were filled with people, another engineer pulled a lever and the big wheel began to revolve around leisurely. Nova Scotia looked to his left. He could see the whole of Riverville, and several other cities and towns too, like Sunset City, Black City, Bluenose Cove and Mountain Gate. He could also see the highway leading to the park and cars rushing by. Nova Scotia whistled in awe, admiring the vista. At that moment, the carriage shook slightly as it hovered up into the sky. The trembling made Nova Scotia release another windy blast. The glass behind him misted up. He could feel a profound dip in his stomach as the carriage descended over, making him cut the cheese again, the glass behind him fogging up once more. Nova Scotia sighed and shook his head slowly.
The big wheel made more revolutions, before the engineer finally stopped the ride. Nova Scotia left the big wheel and ambled towards the centre of the park again. It was now late afternoon; he didn't want to go on any more rides. His new friend, Lunenburg, came to his mind. "Where's Lunenburg and friends now?" he wondered. He asked a passer-by where they were now, and he answered that they were now behind the water flume. "Okay, thanks," smiled Nova Scotia, and he headed off to where Lunenburg and his band were now.
Just like last time, Lunenburg and his band were on the stage, and a huge crowd screamed and chanted Lunenburg's name, calling for him to play another song. Nova Scotia did a little tap with his foot. "Okay, so this next song…" announced Lunenburg, "It's to the tune of La Bamba." "Yeah!" screamed the crowd. "But about Nova Scotia," replied Tatamagouche. Lunenburg put his ear out to his band's guitarist. "But it's about Nova Scotia!" he shouted on his microphone. The crowd cheered in agreement. "So, everybody ready?" asked Lunenburg. The crowd said yes. "I can't hear you! You ready?" Lunenburg shouted, putting his ear out. "Yes!" the crowd shouted a bit louder. "Still can't hear you! ARE YOU READY?!" he yelled noisily. "YES!" screamed the crowd shrilly. "YEAH! THAT'S HOW I LIKE IT!" agreed Lunenburg boisterously. "Start the riff, Tat and Dart." Tatamagouche and Dartmouth both began to play the intro of 'La Bamba'. "Are you ready to rock?" asked Lunenburg. "YES!" cheered the crowd loudly. "START THE PARTY!" yelled Lunenburg wildly. Some guest musicians began to blow their trumpets loudly, Wolfville began to play a backing track on his keyboard, and Digby began to smack his drums. And just as they started, Nova Scotia bent down to pick up a blue stone and blew his own trumpet too, a cloud of brown sulphur gas gusting into an unfortunate fan's face. "Ugh," complained the fan, waving away the vile stink. "Sorry," apologized Nova Scotia, picking up the blue stone and putting it into his gown pocket. The fan accepted his apology, and Nova Scotia listened to the beat of the music. "If you wanna see the sea, if you wanna see the sea, you gotta go to a little old province, to a little old province…" Lunenburg crooned sweetly, and the crowd cheered him on with passion. Nova Scotia did a lively Scottish dance, beating his feet together and twirling with elegance. Some fans noticed Nova Scotia jigging and clapped their hands to the melody, whistling shrilly. "Here comes the chorus!" screamed a festival-goer excitedly. "Nova Scotia, Nova Scotia, Nova Scotia, Nova Scotia…" recited Lunenburg, Pictou and several guest backing vocalists. The fans sang along too. "They're singing my name over and over," thought Nova Scotia, and he laughed heartily, continuing to dance his little Scottish jig.
Night was drawing in. The sun was setting behind the mountains, and the park was still as full as ever. To finish off his grand day out, he decided to visit the Lobster Land Gift Shop and buy a few little knick-knacks to take back home. He entered the shop, which was full of people buying lobster-themed trinkets. Most of the stuff in the shop was creative, if a little gimmicky; there was a lobster glass holder and little lobster drink markers in rainbow colours, so you could easily tell which drink was yours at a party. Since Nova Scotia was a first-time visitor to Lobster Land, he could get whatever he wanted for free. He picked up a blue lobster key charm with little sparkly diamonds for eyes. "This looks very elegant," he cooed. "I could wear it on my sporran." Nova Scotia always wore a sporran for very special occasions, like wedding receptions or business parties. He'd recently had one at the South Riverville Community Centre to celebrate him being promoted to a quartet member in the RSO, the Riverville Symphony Orchestra. It was very sophisticated and it had been superior, if a little gassy…
Nova Scotia put the key charm in his gown pocket. As he slotted it in, he ripped a steamy, juicy sulphur blast in front of a few shoppers. A big brown gaseous cloud blustered in the air. They complained with the awful stench, trying to fan it away. "Sorry!" he apologized. They accepted his apologies, and he went over to another area of the shop.
He picked up a wooden sculpture of a lobster, hand-painted red, complete with details. "I could put this in the living room," he thought, touching and stroking it very carefully. He put it in one of the pockets on his knee-length shorts.
Nova Scotia shortly noticed some passionate fans buying official merchandise of the Crust-Amazes at a nearby stall. They were screaming wildly, snapping up many different items of their favourite band – one of them grabbed a keyring of Digby, the drummer, and another swept up a poster of Lunenburg with his autograph on it. "Hmm, let me check that out," Nova Scotia said to himself, and he headed for the stall.
Nova Scotia scanned the selection of merchandise to buy. He found some realistic-looking dolls of all the band members – Wolfville, Tatamagouche, Dartmouth, Digby, Pictou, and of course, Lunenburg. "So cute," cooed Nova Scotia, feeling their lobster costumes being made out of real fabric of different colours. He also admired some keyrings of the band members, jingling them, listening to the sweet sound. Nova Scotia picked up a couple of badges, one denoting all the band members with their band's logo, and a signed one of Lunenburg. "These would look great on my bag," he thought to himself, smiling joyfully. He picked up a paper bag and put everything he'd picked up in the shop so far into it. He swept up a guitar pick with all the band members' autographs on it, a wallet with a signed picture of all the band members, the autographed poster of Lunenburg, and a pencil case with a photo and all the autographs of the band members. He placed them all into his bag.
To finish off his shopping spree, Nova Scotia picked up the Crust-Amazes' debut album. It contained all the songs they'd performed for Lobster Land's launch day, recorded in a studio – like the Nova Scotia version of "La Bamba". He slipped it into his bag too, not having to pay because he was a first-timer. Nova Scotia thanked all the cashiers in the shop and left.
Nova Scotia strolled towards the exit, bag in hand. "Hello," said a person dressed as a green lobster. "Since you might want to come here again, I'll give you this loyalty card. You can get lots of fantastic rewards." "Oh, thanks," Nova Scotia replied, taking a card from him. It already had a stamp on it. If he got ten stamps, he could reclaim them for some fabulous prizes. Nova Scotia stored the card in his new wallet.
As he crossed the exit, he met Lunenburg and his fellow band members. "Oh, hello," he greeted. "Hi," greeted Lunenburg back. "Oh, I see you've got our debut album! Since you got it for free, would you care to spare us a few loonies? Just so you'll feel good about taking it." "Will do gladly," smiled Nova Scotia. He took his wallet out and gave them five dollars. "Aw, thanks," gushed Lunenburg, kissing the note and storing it in his own wallet, red with bliss. He clasped his hands together. "That's really going to support us in our quest for improving our music." Nova Scotia nodded. "By any chance, could you all give me your numbers? I need to start building a list of contacts in the industry, as I'm an aspiring musician." "We most certainly will!" squealed Lunenburg. Nova Scotia fetched his phone as all the band members dictated their phone numbers to him. He registered them all in his phonebook. "Thanks," Nova Scotia smiled. "Hee hee. I'm so pleased," giggled Lunenburg, blushing red again. "Call me whenever you have the time," beamed Nova Scotia. "And we'll call you too!" laughed Lunenburg with great passion. "Well, see you later," Nova Scotia said to the band. "See you!" Lunenburg answered back, and Nova Scotia got going again.
Nova Scotia strolled into the car park, streetlights illuminating the way. As he approached the bus stop, he put down his bag on the ground to rest his hands a little. After a short while, he bent down to pick up his bag again. However, this made him break wind, a brown sulphur cloud gusting from his behind. "Ooh!" cried Lunenburg, who was on Nova Scotia's trail. "Sorry," Nova Scotia apologized. Lunenburg smiled, accepting his apology. He and his fellow band members boarded their tour bus.
Nova Scotia reached the bus stop, and waited patiently for the bus back home to arrive. Once it did, he boarded the bus, greeting the driver. There were only a few people on board this time – about five or six, including himself. Nova Scotia sat at the front near the driver, which was safer. The bus cruised on the highway and through the streets of North Riverville, until it stopped outside the Benjamins' home. Nova Scotia disembarked and waved goodbye to the driver. The bus set off once again into the night.
Nova Scotia rushed towards the front door and unlocked it, opening it up. He shut the door behind him, turned on the light and locked it securely, putting his bag down beside the TV. He passed gas just as he placed his bag down. "Ooh, my," he chirped. He quickly loosened his black ribbon and draped it over his shoulders, sprinting over to the big mirror in the living room. He turned his back to face the mirror and ripped a steamy, hot wind explosion, a brown sulphur cloud emanating from his posterior, fogging the mirror up. He breathed calmly as he let loose another gassy blast. Nova Scotia looked around all over the room, cutting another reeking detonation. He let rip another stinking eruption, and he entered the bathroom, removing all his clothing and stepping into the shower to have another quick, hot wash.
As he rinsed himself, steam built up in the shower, misting up the glass. Nova Scotia let a big one rip, fogging up the glass behind him even more. He breathed out tranquilly.
Nova Scotia put his clothing back on, draping his ribbon over his shoulders again and turned on the TV. He lay stomach down on the sofa, his backside in the air, sighing. "Oh, I've got so much wind," he moaned softly. He cut the cheese, a brown cloud of sulphur gas emanating from his rear. Canadians Do The Funniest Things was playing on TV. A few video clips of people doing silly antics, mainly tripping up and falling down, were being played back. The narrator was voicing over the clips, saying amusing things, with a live audience laughing out loud; but Nova Scotia just looked at the TV, his face serious, breaking wind again.
After yet another clip of someone falling down, a very familiar person appeared on the TV. It was Nova Scotia himself – and the clip was of him at Lobster Land! "Eh?" he wondered, looking slightly angry. The narrator was talking in a soft, low voice, describing Nova Scotia, as if he was doing a wildlife program, and Nova Scotia was a member of a natural species. Suddenly, just like what had happened that afternoon, on the TV, Nova Scotia let a huge one rip in front of everyone around him, a brown sulphur puff gusting from his backside. "Oops! Sorry!" he apologized, looking at his behind. The narrator cooed, and the audience howled with laughter. "Making music with his derriere!" laughed the narrator, and the audience laughed, too. "Whoo! Alright! I got it all on video! This is definitely going on Canadians Do The Funniest Things!" shouted the cameraman, just like he did that afternoon. "It sure is, Mr. Cameraman!" replied the narrator, laughing loudly, as did the audience.
Just then, the very person who had recorded that embarrassing video of Nova Scotia appeared at the window, tapping it lightly. "Hmm?" said Nova Scotia softly, lifting his leg up slightly and blowing his own trumpet quietly, a cloud of 'chocolate dust' wavering in the air from his posterior. The cameraman opened the window loudly and guffawed at Nova Scotia. "Ha ha! You've been SHAMED!" he chuckled, pointing at him. "Yo ho, yo ho, 250 bucks for me!" he chanted like a pirate, doing a cash register-like dance with his arm. Nova Scotia moaned loudly, letting loose another windy blast, a brown sulphur cloud blustering from his backside.
The window closed again, and Nova Scotia sat up. He lifted himself slightly off the sofa and ripped another gassy explosion, another brown sulphur cloud gusting from his rear. He went over to the paper bag and bent down to pick up the stuff from there, letting rip another stinky detonation. Another cloud of 'cocoa powder' emanated from his behind. Nova Scotia breathed out calmly, and fetched all the things he'd bought (or rather, took for free) at Lobster Land. "I'll listen to this tomorrow," he said, looking at the Crust-Amazes' CD. He put it on the Benjamins' CD and DVD shelf, putting it up on a high shelf so he wouldn't have to bend down and… you know what.
Nova Scotia picked up the wooden red lobster sculpture, letting out yet another malodorous gas blast, with more "chocolate powder" being emitted from his posterior. He decorated the bookshelf with it, putting it at one end. "There. It looks so pretty," he tweeted sweetly. He picked up the bag, trying not to bend down, put it on the kitchen mini-table and retrieved the guitar pick. He scooped up his guitar and stored it in the little pocket of its case.
Nova Scotia, trying not to bend down, scooped up his backpack and carefully pinned the two badges he had taken to the front of it. He admired his newly-adorned bag, nodding and saying, "Mmm-hmm." He hung it up on the hook beside the front door, and put the pencil case inside it. He then went to fetch the autographed poster of Lunenburg and pinned it up on his bedroom wall. "Oh, my good new friend," he warbled, his hand on his heart, doing a little tap-dance. He went up to the poster and kissed it sweetly, as if Lunenburg himself was really there.
Nova Scotia fetched the little blue lobster key charm with shiny diamond eyes and opened the topmost draw on his drawer, eliminating the need to bend down. He found his sporran and locked the charm onto the zip, admiring it. "So fashionable," he cooed. He put his newly-decorated sporran back and closed the draw.
Nova Scotia turned off the light in the living room and returned to his bedroom, switching on the lamp. He took the ribbon off his shoulders, fetched a clothes hanger from the top draw (so he wouldn't have to bend down) and slid it on, suspending it from a hook on the door. Nova Scotia removed his gown and kilt, light blue collared shirt, smart red tie and light green knee-length shorts. Unfortunately, to take off his shorts, he had to bend down, which made him pass gas, making a cloud of 'chocolate powder' exude from his extremity. Nova Scotia breathed out calmly, and put all his clothes onto the hanger. He removed his socks and shoes and placed them neatly under the computer desk, bending down so many times that he released several farts in succession, making several more clouds of 'cocoa powder' emanate from his other end. The back of his underwear blew out every time he passed gas. Nova Scotia exhaled tranquilly with each one, and he unhooked his dressing gown in bright and pale shades of green that he wore as pyjamas. He slipped it on, double-tying the pale green ribbon – one knot at the back, and one to the right of his stomach.
Nova Scotia went to the bathroom to brush his teeth. In doing so, he bent down slightly over the sink, making him release a high-pitched windy gust, a little brown cloud of sulphur gas blowing from his backside. Nova Scotia exhaled serenely. He washed his toothbrush, stored it in the holder and turned on the tap, rinsing his mouth out with water and drinking a little to hydrate himself. As he did this, he bent down even more, making him cut a lower-pitched stinky blast, a bigger brown cloud of sulphur gas emanating from his behind. Nova Scotia exhaled calmly again, and left the bathroom to return to his bedroom.
Nova Scotia turned off the lamp and bent down to unravel his duvet, making him rip yet another gassy explosion, another cloud of 'chocolate dust' blustering from his behind. He clambered into bed, lifting himself slightly off his bed and passing gas once more, with yet another cloud of 'powdered chocolate' gusting from his other end. Nova Scotia pulled his duvet over himself and lay his head down on the soft, thick, feathery pillow. He fell asleep instantly. Nova Scotia turned onto his right side and farted quite loudly, with another cloud of sulphur gas emanating from his backside. The room stank of lobster-induced wind-breaking, the air browning with the gas. But Nova Scotia's senses of smell had shut down for the night, so he couldn't smell a thing. Nova Scotia slept through the night, lobsters of different colours crawling and swimming about in his dreams, breaking wind all night at different pitches, volumes and lengths, making his duvet fly up in the air briefly and making clouds of 'cocoa powder' emanate from his other end.
THE END.