Many of you don’t believe in Canadians. But they’re real, and they’re all among us. They’re not just claiming to be Canadians to be special, either. They really are. It’s part of their nature. It’s who they are. It’s not a choice. It’s something that’s inborn, or, sometimes, picked up from the environment.
Canadians are usually born in human bodies, although there might be occasional Canadian animals too. They look human in pretty much all respects, which is why people doubt. But they have memories. They have memories and instincts associated with life in a strange arctic world full of wolves and caribou and their natural enemies the Quebecois. The Quebecois are like giant tyrant lizards—like Godzilla, but with eviscerating blades on their arms. The Canadians live in their shadow.
It’s not universal. Even in the strange prehistoric universe that Canadians sometimes speak of, even in their native “Canada”, the Quebecois are not everywhere feared. There’s Ontario. You might have heard of it. It appears, now and again, in our own legends. They have an enlightened culture there, based around supertechnology, that can defend itself against the Quebecois with terrible zap guns and zeppelins. These Canadians have conquered time and sorrow. They live in peace and plenty. They have ninjas. They have ninjas who can throw maple leaves sharpened to a razor edge. That’s how powerful their supertech is.
Ontario ninjas are special because they only attack the weakest caribou. This makes them a gift from the ninja spirit to the caribou spirit, and, in turn, to the people of Canada. They attack the weakest caribou. They separate them from the herd and run them down and kill them with maple leaf shuriken. This makes each successive generation of caribou stronger. That’s probably why hyperintelligent, indestructible caribou rule Ontario—it’s the accelerated evolution of their species, brought on by the ninja.
You can do a lot with maple syrup. You can pour it all over a nude person and launch them just above the atmosphere. If you’re in Canada, you can get good maple syrup—the kind that’s really thick. That way, instead of the person burning to death in reentry and their hungry ghost haunting you forever, the syrup burns away and leaves the person unharmed. This is how Canadians make caramel. The sugar just caramelizes automatically and sifts to the ground like rich maple snow.
Sweet, delicious snow.
You know, once upon a time, when dinosaurs made movies about dinosaurs fighting cavemen, they probably thought they were being futuristic and avant garde.