Pierre

Sven Nordquist was a trapper from way out in the bush in Northern Alberta, and several years ago after being out on his trapline for over two years, he came out of the bush, cashed in his pelts for cash at the Entrance Trading Post and came on down to the small town of Hinton for some excitement. He went into the local bar and after several beers asked the bartender that since female companionship seemed to be absent, just where he could get laid. He had been in the bush for two years, was totally fed up with making love to Mother Fist, and he really had a rusty old charge backed up.

The bartender sadly informed him that just now there was no outlet for his passion. Hayloft Molly, the usual source of comfort for the community, had refused to give the local Cop a freebie, and as a result was spending a little time in gaol on a Vagrancy charge. Unfortunately there was nobody else filling in for her unless he was willing to consider "Pierre".

"No! No! No!" said Sven, "I don't go for that sort of shit!" and he purchased a couple of cases to go and returned to the bush.

He had a good season and nearly a year to the day he reappeared at the bar and again enquired into a little creature comfort. The bartender remembered him but sadly told him that Hayloft Molly was in town, but she unfortunately had managed to get very pregnant and was not receiving visitors. But, in a pinch, there was always, Pierre.

Sven was desperate. He sat and had several beers and with each one the idea seemed to get better. He finally called the bartender back and said

" I really don't go for that shit,

but really there'd only be the three of us knew about it, right,

you, me, and Pierre?"

The bartender shook his head and told him, "No, I'm afraid not. There would be seven of us.

You, me, Pierre,

and

the four guys holding Pierre.

He doesn't go for that shit either."