New Brunswick — On Wednesday, Premier Blaine Higgs lashed out at the “irresponsible” medical professional in the Campbellton region who contracted COVID-19 outside the province and is to blame for two other confirmed cases in the region, forcing that northern part of the province back into the “orange” phase of recovery.
As he gave the region a good hard scolding during the daily press briefing, he seemed to be aging right in front of the public’s eyes.
“This dimwit left the province, lied about his reasons for going, and didn’t self-isolate upon return,” yelled Higgs, a long, silken, white beard slowly emerging from his face as he spoke.
He popped a Werther’s Original into his mouth and continued.
“We warned you a million times, just because we are in the ‘yellow’ phase doesn’t mean you can go protesting on bridges or gallivanting off to another province, you big, arrogant turds!”
Patches of hair began to fall from his head as his posture stooped forward like that of a 100-year-old man.
“Some of you only think about yourselves! But what about those individuals in Zone 5 who haven’t even gotten haircuts yet? Now that will be put on hold yet again and everyone looks terrible!” screamed Higgs, grabbing a cane from somewhere and shaking it in the air with a wobbly fist.
“Could somebody get me a chair and a good stiff scotch? Scratch that — bring me a Metamucil,” demanded Higgs, the day’s events having taken too much of a toll on his now-frail body.
Russell approached the podium next and let out an audible sigh. She tried reading her notes, struggled to see the page, then pulled out a pair of elderly-looking reading glasses.
“Normally after a tough day I like to go home and play the saxophone. Not tonight though, New Brunswick. Tonight I’ll be playing the sad trombone.” Russell’s normally smooth skin began to pucker and sag, crow’s feet forming around her eyes and sad age marks starting to surround her mouth and neck.
“We worked so hard to contain this virus, all of us.” Russell’s hair suddenly turned various shades of grey, then white. “Because of the actions of one ignoramus — in the health-care industry no less — we’ve basically had to tell an entire part of the province that they are grounded until further notice. Nice work, ass-hat.”
Behind the podium, varicose veins began to pop out of Russell’s legs.
“These heels are killing me,” she whispered to some interns nearby. “Do any of you young whipper snappers have a nice pair of house slippers I could borrow? Maybe a warm shawl too?” They shook their heads no and Russell sighed again into the microphone.
“Well, it’s 4 p.m. — dinnertime. Guess I should be going. But please…for the love of god…behave yourselves…New Brunswick.” Russell’s voice by now had turned hoarse and tired as she struggled to fill her lungs with air. Attendants assisted the two new senior citizens down from the stage and into their awaiting wheelchairs.
At press time, Higgs and Russell were on the waiting list to enter a local nursing home, preferably not in Zone 5.
“Tonight I’ll be playing the sad trombone…” GOLD!!!