Bugsy was a little nervous about crossing the Canadian border, but he
tried to reassure himself with the occasional stories he had heard from
his sister about how terribly nice Canadians were. When the moment of
truth arrived, the border official proved no exception.
"Just let me do the talking," Bugsy instructed the others as they approached the booth. The official greeted them with a friendly smile. "Hey, folks! Where ya headed?" "Visiting my sister in Toronto." "Uh huh. How long you be staying?" Bugsy thought quickly, wanting to give a normal-sounding answer. "For a week." "Super. Bringing any gifts?" "Nope." "Alcohol?" "Nope." "Firearms?" "Nope." For a moment the officer gave them a wary look. "You folks got any id, passports, something that shows who you are?" Fred gulped. Bugsy stammered. "Uh, sure, it's right in here..." He flipped open the glove compartment, rummaged around for a moment, slammed it shut and grabbed one of their bags, pretending to look through it. After a brief moment the officer just smiled. "Ah, don't worry about it, you folks look nice enough. You have a real good time." And he waved them through. "What a country," Bugsy laughed as they sped towards...
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9/13/2000 7:06:39 AM
Extending Enabled
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