Camp Revenge Season 2

Camp Revenge Season 2

Chapter 13: "But I'm a Canadian!"

So let's talk Canada. It's probably the best country ever. It's cold, you can ski, they have GREAT beer, AND they aren't run by a dickhead, commonly known as George 'Dub-ya' Bush. Heh, heh. Bush. I'm so dirty. Anyone get it? I bet you don't because you don't have a dirty mind like I do.

We arrived in Colorado Springs around ten at night. I got us a hotel room at a Best Western – I had to sneak the dogs in - and after we settled into the room, I quickly fell asleep; driving all night makes to tired. Mitchie and I shared a room, but there were two full-sized beds.

The next morning, I woke up when Mitchie said, "Shane, you're burning daylight! We only have until tonight or Brownie's gonna kill us, remember?"

I groaned and put the pillow over my head. "Five more minutes…"

"I'll go take a shower and if you're not up, I'm going to hit you," she said.

I mumbled something and then tried to go back to sleep.

Next thing I know, Mitchie is punching me repeatedly. "Get up! Get up! We have a wedding to plan, mister!"

I sigh and turn around. I stumble out of bed and go take a shower. When I get out of the bathroom all dressed, Mitchie is by the door with our dogs. I grab my dog's leash and we go down the elevator, going to back way so that the hotel people don't see our dogs.

I put the dogs in the backseat and hop in the front seat, only to see that I'm on empty. "I need some more gas," I said and drove to a gas station. I got out and filled up the car. I opened the door and said to Mitchie, "I'll go get us some snacks; you wait here,"

She nodded and I set off. So, I lied. I wasn't going to get snacks – I was going to get some beer. I went up to some guy wearing overalls, cow boy boots, a red flannel shirt, and a cow boy hat. "Hey, Dude,"

He looked up at me.

I handed him a fifty. "Can you buy me some beer,"

The man looked at me. "Beer, eh?"

I nodded and shoved the money at him. "Yeah. Meet me by the dumpster when you have it,"

He stood up. "Sir, you're under arrest,"

"WHAT?!" I screamed as he put handcuffs on me.

"Trying to buy beer before twenty-one is a crime, you know," he said. I winced as he adjusted the handcuffs so that they were really tight.

"Damn it! Why did the one person I ask to buy beer have to be an undercover cop?" I sighed and then thought of something brilliant. "You can't arrest me; I'm Canadian! Laws here don't apply to us Canadians,"

"You're not Canadian." He said.

"Yes I am,"

"You have a Colorado driver's license"

"How do you know?"

"I know who you are – you're Shane Gray. Of Connect Three. You live in Denver, Colorado. Therefore, you have a Colorado driver's license… I assume you do because you drove here. And if you don't have a drivers license then I get to arrest you for more than one thing. Now where's your driver's license?"

"Back pocket. In my wallet,"

He put his hands in my back pocket – which was so AWKWARD, mind you, and pulled out my walled and took out my driver's license. He showed it to me. "See? You are an American,"

"Well my dogs are Canadian"

"So?"

"Well they're my children – if the illegal Mexicans get to stay here when they have their babies here, then I get to be a Canadian if my kids are Canadian! Same rules should apply for me,"

"You're still under arrest,"

"Well it was worth a shot… You know what I don't understand? I'm allowed to go into war and die for our country but I'm not allowed to legally drink some beer? That's pretty messed up, eh? We live in one fucked up country… That's it; The second I get out of the slammer, I'm moving to Canada – I hear the beer there is fantastic,"

I was shoved into a cop car and then I saw Mitchie running to me. "SHANE?! WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?!"

I looked at her. "I tried to buy some beer,"

"Damn it, Shane! What am I gonna do with you?"

"Call my uncle and tell him to bail me out?"

The car door slammed shut and the police man got in the front seat. I was taken away with sirens and everything and Mitchie stood there, her jaw dropped.

X X X

I was taken to the Colorado Springs police station and they handed me a phone. "You get one phone call," he said.

"But what if no one picks up?" I asked.

"Too bad," he said and walked away.

I picked up the phone and dialed Uncle Brown's number. When he didn't pick up after the fourth ring, I started getting really worried. But then he finally picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hi, uh, Brownie? It's me, Shane,"

"Shane? What number are you calling on?"

"Uh… the police station's…

"What? Why are you there?"

"Well… uh… don't get mad, but, uh… I kinda got arrested,"

"YOU WHAT?!"

"I said don't get mad!"

"Damn it, Shane! Where are you? I'll come bail you out,"

"Colorado Springs prison,"

"Fuck. Now I have to drive all the way to Colorado Springs?!"

"Uh… Yeah,"

"I'll be there in like four hours. Can you survive?"

"I don't know. Please don't let me die here!"

"You deserve to die,"

"Whatever. Bye," I hung up the phone and a police man took me into some room and checked me to make sure I didn't have any weapons. When he confirmed I didn't, he made me wear some awful, bright orange, jumpsuit. Then, I had to take pictures. I smiled and held up two thumbs.

"Put your thumbs down," the guy taking the pictures said.

I sighed and just did a Paris Hilton mug shot instead.

Then I was taken to a cell. I was locked up and then saw that I had a cell mate – fantastic.

The big, buff, bald guy came over to me. "What are you in for?"

I cowered over to a corner, trembling. This guy does not look nice. "I tried to buy some beer…"

He laughed. "I almost killed a cop,"

I gulped. "My name's Shane… Shane Gray. Nice to meet you,"

"Yeah I know who you are. You little gay-ass singer person. My daughter's obsessed with you. I'm Justin,"

I awkwardly laughed and then sat down on the bed. "Well I'm gonna go sleep now. Please don't eat me," I whispered the last sentence.

See? If I were in Canada, none of this would have happened and my phone lines wouldn't be tapped and my emails wouldn't be read. Fucking Bush and his fucking law that says he can spy on us. Oh, gee, I hope I don't get arrested for writing this. You know, he's totally going against the first amendment: "Freedom of Speech." Because, last time I checked, tapping phone lines and arresting people for saying bad things about the government was the opposite of freedom of speech... communist, actually. But, whatever. Screw the constitution. Thomas Jefferson had no idea what he was talking about, right?