It was the end of another hard day of Canadian syrup-boarding. Once again, every one of their terrorist suspects had suffocated when the maple syrup clogged their nostrils, and Conrad suspected that syrup as a method of torture was too viscous. He frequently articulated this idea to his immediate superior, who vigorously slapped him and called him a Yank. Conrad dreaded telling people of his profession when he attended social events such as parties, not least because every person he told tried to fit the phrase “sticky situation” into their response, with varying degrees of success and self-satisfaction.
A few weeks’ later, Conrad arrived in the torture chamber to find every one of his tables occupied. There were so many potential terrorists that they had brought in desks from people’s offices to use as temporary agony-tables. Conrad groaned as he realised how late he’d finish if he had to tackle all these potential terrorists alone. As one of them frantically flapped around on his table like an expiring fish, Conrad realised he recognised him as a member of the local hockey team, the Sticky-Bears. In fact, every potential terrorist had identical clothing identifying them with the Bears. When Conrad asked his immediate supervisor about this, his supervisor explained about a bomb threat against the Bears’ bitter rivals, the Sticky-Salmon.
After another hard day of syrup-boarding, when the last Sticky-Bear’s corpse had been wheeled out and the cleaners had entered to begin mopping up the gallons of syrup which now covered the walls, floor and ceiling, Conrad reflected on the mediocre quality of the information that the Bears had delivered. A few weeks later, the captain of the Sticky-Salmon phoned up to confess to falsely reporting the bomb threat as part of a night of drunken tomfoolery. Fortunately, Conrad didn’t have to receive the news himself, as he was busy with another potential terrorist.
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