It’s undeniably evident that there is something peculiar about the water up here, even disregarding the yellow foam that encircles the puddle on our front lawnchair.
First there is the unique driving practices of Fort McMurray people–murderous kamikaze pilots on the highway, elderly folk on valium in the city. Then there is the fact that no fast-food joints open past 12:00 am, which is obviously violating our human right to 4:00 am carbohydrate binges.
Two common practices that lack any sort of rationale.
I started to notice that I was getting a tan without tanning my skin. I also noticed that I didn’t have to shave my legs as frequently as I did back home. Then I went to the SPCA and learned that Fort McMurray cats are approximately the same size as medium sized dogs.
Although evidence supports that the water of Fort McMurray will most likely weaken my IQ rather than strengthen it, I am still hopeful that the conjunction of chemicals, oil, and aqua will increase my bust size to a large C cup and blur my sense of heightened consciousness so I’m less aware and more ignorantly blissful.