As everyone knows – with "everyone" being defined as anyone with at least a seventh grade education, earlobes, and a catchy nickname – even a mute moron can tell you that Quebec is known for three things: tennis, picture frames, and Boz Skaggs. On a random day during the fall of 1988, Poppy Duke – coincidentally a mute moron – decided to relay this painfully obvious information to a group of intoxicated athletes from the Canadian Football League. Poppy parked his car (a stretch limo) near a bush and approached the group as they were inserting pinecones and golf balls into the rectum of a sports reporter. He waved hello to everyone.

"Check it out," said Hank, a tight end for the Ottawa Renegades. "Looks like a new fool’s looking for trouble."

"Help me, please!" said the reporter.

With a Sharpie, Poppy wrote his name on a nametag and stuck it to his chest.

"Help me… Puppy?" said the reporter.

"Peppy," Hank corrected.

"I think it says Pippy," said the punter.

Poppy produced a map of Canada from his pocket and pointed at Quebec. He started bouncing an imaginary ball with an imaginary racket, then grabbed the ball and served it with an overhand smash. When the imaginary return came, he whacked it back with a smooth stroke.

"Tennis?" said Hank.

Poppy touched his nose and hopped with enthusiasm. He then smiled and drew an imaginary rectangular outline around his head. Everyone stared as he continued this same motion for about a minute.

"A picture frame?" said Hank.

Again, Poppy touched his nose and hopped with enthusiasm.

"I hate to interrupt," said the reporter, "but I have pine cones and golf balls up my ass."

Poppy waved him off and started to imitate Boz Skaggs. As you know, Boz Skaggs has no distinctive or memorable mannerisms, so nobody knew what the hell Poppy was doing. Didn’t matter to Poppy, though. He just kept rubbing his nipples and mouthing the lyrics to "Low Down."

"Wow, this one’s tough," said Hank.

"GOOD GOD THESE ANIMALS ARE KILLING ME YOU MUTE MORON!" said the reporter.

Poppy stopped, retrieved a typewriter from his car (a stretch limo), inserted a crisp white sheet of paper into that roll-thing you put the paper in, and typed for roughly five minutes. He removed the paper and handed it to Hank.

"You want me to read it?"

Poppy nodded.

Hank began to read.

Poppy slapped Hank on the chest.

"Oh, uh… out loud?"

Poppy nodded.

Hank cleared his throat. "Dear Guy Being Sodomized," he began. "Just because I’m a mute moron doesn’t give you the right to call me one. Sure, when you’re not being sodomized, you’re probably a really nice guy with great manners and all that, but still, even though at the moment you’re going through something quite horrible, it doesn’t give you the right to take your hardships – or perceived hardships – out on me. Sincerely, Poppy Duke, mute moron."

"I’m gonna kill you," said the reporter. "Mark my words."

"Wait," said Hank, shifting gears. "Boz Skaggs?"

Before Poppy could congratulate him on his miraculous guess, Hank was struck in the head by a stray bullet. He died instantly. The bullet was fired by an enraged housewife named Grace Ruiz-O’Malley, who missed her cheating husband by inches.