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The Fleur De Lys War

by Shawn G, Miramichi, New Brunswick, Canada, Age 16

A tank lurched down the road, resonating from it every creak, groan and sputter that could be expected from such a heavy class of machine. It was painted blue, with Fleur-de-Lys symbols on its sides. An unwashed Quebec soldier stood on top of the tank, shouting "Vive le Quebec! Vive le Quebec!"

The tank came to a stop. Behind it stood Ottawa's Parliament Buildings.

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The darkness enveloped him. He held a cigarette, the smoke wafting and filling his cramped space. The stench of mould percolated throughout the room. Franklin held the cigarette to his lips, and took a long puff. He choked out the kind of wheezing, sputtering cough that takes years of inhalation of smoke to develop.

The door to the tiny room burst open. A short, bean-pole-width lakkie ran into the room.

"Mr Prime Minister! Mr Prime Minister Franklin!" shouted the underweight assistant. Tears collected in his eyes as he held out a sheet of paper to the Prime Minister.
As Franklin swiped the paper from the lakkie's hand, the underling collapsed on the floor in a fit of crying. "Canada... o Canada!!!" he moaned, and burst forth another flood of tears.

Franklin's aged auburn eyes hastily skimmed the typewritten sheet. He stood silent. Then, he finally muttered something.

"Oh, crap."

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A wrinkled hand grasped a wine glass filled with Chardonnay. The hand moved the glass to the mouth of its owner, and this owner, a politician, sipped the precious liquid and bore a smile.

The politician, perhaps not aged more than 50, his blue eyes gleaming like silver lakes, chuckled happily. On the lapel of his European suit was pinned a tiny gold and blue Fleur-de-Lys. In front of the politician was a video monitor and camera.
"Grimley! Let us celebrate the conquest of Ottawa, and the rise of the new Quebec Empire!" exhorted the politician triumphantly toward the camera.

"Yes, Commander Le Train! Your skilful thinking and strategy has brought down the capital of those English Canadian pigs, Ottawa!" rejoiced Grimley.

Le Train sat back in his brown leather reclining chair.

"Today begins a new age of Quebecois history... the age of the new Republic of Quebec! Self-determination! Vive le Quebec Liberté!" shouted Le Train with an upraised and clenched fist.

"Vive le Quebec!" saluted Grimley. "But sire, shall I command our forces to waste Ottawa after they officially grant us independence, because of the force of our overwhelming might, or before?"

"Don't raze the city just yet. I want to personally sit on the Governor General's chair in the House of Commons while that coward Franklin kisses my boots and pleads the life of his puny country."

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"How could this be Parter?? How could Quebec capture Ottawa?? I want answers!!!"

Prime Minister Franklin chose that moment to take a small statuette and throw it at his lakkie, Parter. Had it not been for Parter's keen reflexes, Parter would have been struck and seriously wounded in the head.

"Wwweeeelllll..... sirrrr....., it could be that the Quebecquois forces were well trained, and our forces just happened to be on that vacation you gave them..."

"But what about the soldiers who didn’t take vacation? What about the militia!!!"

"Sir, they couldn't face the brute force of that Quebec Army! They attacked in a blitz! Soldiers, aircraft, hell, even navy cruisers when they could find a river deep enough! Besides, whatever soldiers not on holiday were scantily armed and demoralized after those big cutbacks and the Somalia affair..."

"But they're still just ONE lousy province! How did they manage muster the power to go so far and so fast in the first place you idiot???"

"Well, uh, fighting for your country inspires a zealous fervour in you... Fighting for independence, it's a patriotic thing, just ask Chechnyans in Russia, or the Kosovo Liberation Army… or even the Americans… "

"You MORON!!!!" Franklin lunged at Parter, though he was unsuccessful in catching him. Parter flipped out of the way at the last second. Franklin sailed swiftly into the brick wall of the bunker.

Franklin cursed his excruciating pain in strange tongues.

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A large map of Canada hung on a wall. Upon this map, small, blue tank-shaped markers filled Quebec and part of Ontario. Red tank-shaped markers filled the remainder of province. The legend read "Bleu - Quebec" and "Rouge - Canada"
Grimley pushed the blue markers along on the map until they covered a dot marked "Ottawa".

"Move my little tanks.... move and kill the English!" said Grimley with a grin on his face.

"Grimley! Get your hide over here!" The infamous Prime Minister of Quebec, Le Train, stood at the threshold of the door to his war room.

"Oui, Monsieur!" Grimley presented himself in front to Le Train; standing ramrod straight and saluting.

"Grimley! You pea-brain! You didn't tell me that we didn’t capture that Anglo, Franklin, in our attack! Find him! Bring him to me!" A vein visibly pulsated in Le Train's forehead.

"But... Prime Minister Le Train... we scoured the city... he was nowhere to be found...."

"I DON'T CARE!!!! Find Franklin!!! Search the city as many times as needed! If you don’t find him, I'll have your head for it!"

"Oui, Monsieur!!! Right away monsieur!!!"