Oliver

Oliver looked out over the crowd. The people looked up at him in anticipation. It had taken a long time for him to get to this point. One does not become chief of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police overnight. Oliver had worked hard for years to be able to rise to this position of honor, and now his work was finally paying off. He looked down at the reporters below him - all of them with their cameras and tape recorders. They held their oversized microphones up as high as they could reach towards his face – each one prominently displaying the name of their network.

Oliver’s wife stood next to him up there on the podium. She squeezed his hand tight as he looked away from the reporters and out towards the crowd again. As he gazed upon their many faces, and they gazed upon his, his mind wandered back to his childhood. He stood there with his wife and remembered the years that had passed.

He had been born on a wheat farm in Saskatchewan into a somewhat large family. He was second to the youngest of six children, and he had loved to help his dad work the land. His younger brother, Woody, was the sibling he was the closest to growing up. They had done all their chores together for about as long as they could remember. When their parents were busy, they would sometimes sneak out of the house and go take a ride on their bikes. They liked to go to the top of the hill and then race each other back down the other side. They would show off to each other as well. One boy doing a trick, and the other boy trying to outdo his brother by doing something even more crazy and dangerous.

When Oliver was thirteen, his family had moved to Vancouver. His father had grown tired of being a farmer and decided the he wanted to be a fisherman instead. His mother also went from being a homemaker to opening up a business in their home. She would repair people’s computers, and would bring in quite a bit of money for doing so. She had always been interested in technical sorts of things – even back when they were still on the farm.

During his teenage years, Oliver joined a garage band, grew long hair, and went around town on his skateboard. Despite his appearance, he kept his grades up and managed to graduate with honors.

When he was fourteen, he was watching TV one day when he saw on the news that mountain lions had been prowling around the Premier’s house. He watched with amazement as he saw the mounties come in and take control of the situation. Since that day, Oliver had always wanted to be a mountie. He could never get over the way those men had stepped in that day and had come to the aid of the Premier of the beautiful province of British Columbia. So, he decided that he would become a mountie too.

Now, there he stood before that great crowd of people with his wife by his side. He remembered when he took his wife out on their first date. They had gone to A&W. They ordered chicken and it was the best chicken that he ever remembered eating. He would have ordered a burger, but she had insisted that he get chicken because of the Mad Cow scare that was going on at the time. He was happy to have gotten the chicken though. The gravy was amazing, the root beer was wonderful, and they even served his favorite kind of vinegar to dip his fries in.

But now, he stood before that crowd of spectators as they awaited his speech. The chief of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police had stepped down, and Oliver had been chosen to take his place. With pride in his new position, Oliver stepped forward to address the crowd. He was shocked, however, to see that those he was addressing appeared to be no longer interested in his speech. They all had turned around and faced the other direction. Oliver was dumbfounded and did not know what to say. It was then that he heard the familiar sound of a jingle. It was the ice cream man! Everyone had turned away from him, so that they could fight to be first in line to get ice cream. The crowd dispersed in the direction of the ice cream man, and even the reporters left their posts to go follow the crowd.

“I can’t believe this!” Oliver exclaimed as the ice cream truck came into view.

His wife walked up to him. “Not exactly what you had in mind, eh?” she asked. “Hold my purse for me, will you? I need to run to the ladies room.”

She ran off, and left Oliver standing there alone on the stage…with her purse. He looked out at the ice cream truck, which was still passing by. As it turned, he noticed the license plate. Being a mountie, he was used checking out people’s plates. Washington! The plates said Washington!

Crazy Americans, he thought. They always spoil everything.