Okay... I know I said that I was finished, but then I was introduced to Rick Mercer, and shown the 'Canadian Apology' done for CBC by Colin Mochrie. I had to do this, besides, it was a chance to write Rodney drunk again.

Don't own anything. Want to, but don't.

0o0o0o0o0

Rodney McKay sat at a long table off world. In his hand was clutched a mug of what he had been told was a drink much like beer by Teyla. Rodney, having been too busy to have any beer for a long time, had agreed to have some. What he hadn't realized was that the drink he had been given, which was called Lohocla by the natives, was much stronger than anything he was used to. Music was being played loudly behind him, while everyone in his team and many of the natives were dancing. Rodney wasn't one for dancing, which is why he was sitting at the table drinking.

John sat down beside him as the song ended, to play a slower song.

"You should join in. The natives here are really friendly." John said.

"No. Don't like dancing." Rodney said. He grinned and started laughing into his cup, which was almost empty. John shrugged and asked for a glass of water, wanting to keep sober just in case something should happen. The slow song ended, and Rodney had started on his second glass. John got up to join back in with the festivities when Rodney grabbed his arm, hiccuping.

"John, I'm sorry."

"For what?" John was seriously confused. What had Rodney done?

"On behalf of Canadians everywhere I'd like to offer an apology to the United States of America." Rodney said slowly, taking another sip of his drink.

"Ookay." John sat back down, not really sure that Rodney should be left alone.

"No, really. We haven't been getting along very well recently and for that, I am turly sorry." Rodney screwed up his face in concentration, knowing that he had gotten a word wrong. "Truly sorry."

"I'm sorry we called your president a moron. He is a moron, but it wasn't nice of us to point it out. If it's any consultation, the fact that he's a moron shouldn't effect poorly on the people of 'Merica." Rodney giggled. "After all, it's not like you actually elected him."

"Riight. Rodney, I don't think you should be having anything else to drink." John said, trying to take the cup out of Rodney's hands. Rodney swatted his friend's hands away, though.

"Get your own!" Rodney said before continuing on his apology.

"I'm sorry about our softwood lumber. Just because we have more tiers than you, doesn't give us the right to sell you lumber thats cheaper and batter than your own." Rodney nodded, agreeing with himself. He didn't seem to notice that he was mixing words up as he took another long drink from his mug. "It'd be like if you had ten times the telephone audience we did and you flood our market with great shoes, cheaper than we could produce. You'd never do that."

"No, we wouldn't." John said as Rodney drained his second mug and asked for a third. John gave the man serving the drink a death glare, daring him to fill it up with that Lohocla drink.

"I'm sorry we beat you in Olympic hockey. In our defiance I guess our excuse would be that our team was much, much, much, much better than yours." Rodney giggled again, taking another drink of what John was hoping was just water. "Anyways, you're getting all our NHL teams."

"Sorry about our waffling on Iraq. When you're going up against a crazed dictionary, you want to have your fiends by your side. I realize it took more than two years before you guys pitched in against Hitler, but that was different." Rodney nodded, agreeing with himself again. "Everyone knew he had weapons." He took another long drink.

"I'm sorry we burnt down your White House during the War of 1812. You've reburn't it, and it's very nice." Teyla and Ronan finally seemed to notice that something was wrong with Rodney, and were coming over.

"Sorry for Alan Thicke, Shania Twain, Celine Dion, Loverboy, that song from Seriff that end with a really high-pitched long note." He nodded some more, drinking some more out of his mug. He got a suddenly sad look on his face. "Your beer." He shook his head sadly. "I know we had nothing to do with your beer," He clapped John on the shoulder. "But we feel your pins."

"Thats... nice..." John said, nodding and wishing that Teyla and Ronan would make their way through the crowds faster.

"On behalf of all Canadians, I'm sorry that we're constantly apologizing for things in a passive-aggressive way which is really a thinly veiled citizen. I hope you're not upset over this. We've seen what you do to countries you get upset with." Rodney hiccuped, draining his mug.

"Rodney, I think we should start heading home." John said as Teyla and Ronan arrived. Teyla looked at the dazed look on Rodney's face and seemed to instantly understand.

"Oh no, I forgot to warn him that Lohocla is much stronger than your beer. How many has he drunk?" Teyla looked to John, who wasn't completely sure.

"Three." Rodney said, holding up four fingers. He started to try to get up, but was held down by John.

"Lemmie go. Need to get home to my Igloo. Need to feed my beaver." Rodney managed to say before falling forward, unconscious.

"He's gonna have one helluva headache when he wakes up." John sighed.

0o0o0o0o0

Rodney groaned at the bright lights of the infirmary as he woke up. Voices were to be heard from not far away, but even as far away as they were the people were talking too loud. The beeping was too loud, every noise made hurt his ears and sent blasts of pain through his already hurting head.

"I cannot believe that Dr. McKay was able to drink so much. Many men are unable to drink one Lohocla, let alone three."

"Not all Canadian stereotypes are wrong apparently. Rodney seems to have a high alcohol tolerance level." Carson could be heard saying quietly.

"Shut up, all of you. Go away." Rodney groaned, even his own voice was too loud. It made his head hurt even more.

"Why hello there Rodney." Carson seemed to sound too happy as he said that.

"Too happy. Too loud. Shut up. Go away." Rodney said quickly, covering his head with a pillow.

"You heard the man. All o'yeh, out." Carson said. Feet trying to be quiet as they walked left the room, but the beeping was still too loud.

"damn machinery." Rodney muttered. Carson laughed quietly.

"Aye, damn machinery." Carson said, he was beside Rodney's bed now. "Here, Rodney. This'll help." Rodney opened his eyes to see Carson injecting something into an IV tube and moments later Rodney realized what it was, all too late as he fell into the blissful state of medically-induced sleep.