“Good morning, sir.”
“Good morning, sir.”
As I sat drinking my coffee at a table on Fido’s deck a set of twins took the table next to me. They weren’t ordinary twins, though. They were conjoined at the hip.
“Good morning, guys,” I said.
“We’re Ronnie and Johnnie, the McClain twins from Canada,” said the one with glasses. “I’m Ronnie.”
I introduced myself and asked, “Is this your first trip to Belize?”
“It sure is,” he said. “For fourteen years we’ve never been anywhere on vacation except to England.”
“It’s a wonderful country with a lot to offer for a tourist.”
“We wouldn’t know.” Johnnie said. “All we ever do is when we get there we rent a car and drive for miles and miles and miles.”
“I can understand that,” I said. “There’s so much history and culture to see.”
“We don’t care about English history,” Ronnie said. “We’re Canucks. We have all the Canadian history we need.”
“Yeah,” his brother said. “And those English aren’t very cultured if you ask me. They’re rude and obnoxious.”
Ronnie said, “Their food is terrible. They don’t even have Tim Horton’s donut shops.”
“You should see the dumps we have to stay in,” his brother said. “Last time we stayed one night in a castle they said was seven hundred years old.”
“And don’t get me started about the beer,” Ronnie said. “They call that stuff ale but it must be because they’ve never tasted a Molson’s.”
“Oh, come on, guys. It can’t be that bad.”
“It is,” they both said.
“So why do you keep going to England?”
“It gives Johnnie a chance to drive.”
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