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The Pelt Market is Down, Again
With a nod to all these fresh young kids in all these grand old halls n’ residents… I found myself in dire need of a new schtick, a new ice-breaking conversation starter to get things going with the Queen's kids the other day. My conversations with the little ones was getting kinda stale, especially the really young n' fresh ones. Those feisty first years, minds all full of not much more than enthusiastic mush. I mean how many times can one lean into ‘em with the “…where ya from?” “…how do you like Kingston?” Only to find yet another little still wet behind the ears n' wild one from out yonder upon the windswept plains of the Toronto hinterlands, all those Richmond Hillites, Vaughntoninans and Oakvillians . AND, of course they adore Kingston, I mean, really, why wouldn’t they, it is made of stone after all.
Out of the blue, I begun to tell a tallish tale of how us taxi-cabbiests were actually doing a double duty of a sort. In reality, we were firstly and fore-mostly, simply, just pelt collectors. Fishing our fares for the freshest student… pelts. The ever-freshest being the coveted first year pelt. I mean sure, one could argue, and perhaps it is just a little correlative, but “…have you ever wondered why there are so few of you left after April, so fewer of you returning for that second year?” Indeed, last year was a good year for pelts.
This year? The pelt market is down a bit. We’re not getting that good a dollar for your pelts these days. Some say it's UBER; the older, aging, crinkly n’ wiser drivers, well they put it down to Pierre and Claude laying out far too many trap lines out front of Victoria Hall and along down Albert and Collingwood Streets. Others say, well it just hasn’t been cold n’ wintery enough… yet. You know… the best way to prepare a fresh pelt is to stick it in a snowbank let it get all chill overnight, alive n’ wiggling n' wriggling, letting it turn all blueshly purple, you know, for the Engineer’s market. Those engineers, they do so love the leathery old Queen’s jacket!
The last couple of fresh n’ first yearlings I had in the cab were, well he was all nervously chuckling a bit in the back (little did he know), she was a little non-plussed but I could tell she was giving it some thought as I pulled my now patented stunt of driving right up and onto the the sidewalk of Stirling Hall, the Science Building, to get my fares as close to that door as possible, I will get caught one day… I assured her that she was safe for now. I mean with the pelt market being down as it is. Most of us cabbies, er fare-trade collectors were simply practicing a catch and release modus operandi, "... we're keeping up our skills“…you’ve nothing to worry about sweetie.” I mean, unless it gets much colder. Oh and by the way girls, no I’m not a dirty old man behind the wheel of this large automobile… I’m just eying up that pelt of yours, baby does needs new shoes after all… dontcha know.
Out of the blue, I begun to tell a tallish tale of how us taxi-cabbiests were actually doing a double duty of a sort. In reality, we were firstly and fore-mostly, simply, just pelt collectors. Fishing our fares for the freshest student… pelts. The ever-freshest being the coveted first year pelt. I mean sure, one could argue, and perhaps it is just a little correlative, but “…have you ever wondered why there are so few of you left after April, so fewer of you returning for that second year?” Indeed, last year was a good year for pelts.
This year? The pelt market is down a bit. We’re not getting that good a dollar for your pelts these days. Some say it's UBER; the older, aging, crinkly n’ wiser drivers, well they put it down to Pierre and Claude laying out far too many trap lines out front of Victoria Hall and along down Albert and Collingwood Streets. Others say, well it just hasn’t been cold n’ wintery enough… yet. You know… the best way to prepare a fresh pelt is to stick it in a snowbank let it get all chill overnight, alive n’ wiggling n' wriggling, letting it turn all blueshly purple, you know, for the Engineer’s market. Those engineers, they do so love the leathery old Queen’s jacket!
The last couple of fresh n’ first yearlings I had in the cab were, well he was all nervously chuckling a bit in the back (little did he know), she was a little non-plussed but I could tell she was giving it some thought as I pulled my now patented stunt of driving right up and onto the the sidewalk of Stirling Hall, the Science Building, to get my fares as close to that door as possible, I will get caught one day… I assured her that she was safe for now. I mean with the pelt market being down as it is. Most of us cabbies, er fare-trade collectors were simply practicing a catch and release modus operandi, "... we're keeping up our skills“…you’ve nothing to worry about sweetie.” I mean, unless it gets much colder. Oh and by the way girls, no I’m not a dirty old man behind the wheel of this large automobile… I’m just eying up that pelt of yours, baby does needs new shoes after all… dontcha know.
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