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Venturing out; unicorns do exist.

Would you guys mind keeping it down? The white guy said.

Mind your fucking business, the bozo said, glaring at them and clutching his pop can angrily. That did it, the couple got up and went to sit further down. I breathed a sigh of relief. Involuntarily I smiled. Thank you for that, I said, looking at the bozo with something approaching gratitude. De rien Khadra, he said, nodding graciously before popping a huge slice of pizza into his mouth. I plopped down in my seat, and tried my best to enjoy the rest of the movie. Spiderman kind of sucked, in part because the British guy simply can't fill Toby Maguire's shoes, but Jamie Foxx made for a charismatic and sympathetic villain as Electro. As the lights came on and I got ready to leave, the bozo got up and winked at me. That was fun, he said, belching loudly and stretching.

I shook my head, amazed that someone this charmingly uncouth could exist in today's world. What is your name? I asked. Jamal James Lafleur at your service, he said, taking off his Boston Red Sox baseball cap for good measure. He extended his hand for me to shake. I looked at him dubiously before shaking his hand. You know my brother? I asked. Jamal ( if that's his name ) smiled. Indeed I met you three years ago when I joined your family for Eid feast, he said confidently, as we exited the theater.

Oh, I said, vaguely remembering my brother Djohar inviting one of his American friends to the Eid feast with us a while back. Suddenly I remembered a particularly obnoxious American who criticized all things Canadian, declared Dunkin Donuts superior to Tim Horton's ( hell no ) and even said the U.S. should have annexed us a long time ago. I got so mad I called him an asshole. You must be J.J. from Boston, I said, recalling the one guy who got under my skin so much that I wanted to smack him as he insulted my country while dining with my family and I under our roof.

In the flesh, J.J. said, grinning. I definitely remembered that fearless smile of his. Why are Americans so damn sure of themselves? I remember you hated Canada so why are you here? I asked, standing near the theater steps. J.J. grinned, and shrugged. My bad I was new to the country back then, he laughed. I cocked an eyebrow. You like it here now? I asked, hands on my hips. Fuck yeah Ontario's a great place, he said, with that thick Boston accent I found so annoying. Glad to hear it, I said, smiling. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all.

Well it was nice to run into you but I got a bus to catch, I said. J.J. nodded as if he understood. I'm headed to Carleton so yeah I got to get moving too, he said. I was stunned by those words. What are you doing at Carleton? I asked. I got accepted at the Sprott School of Business, J.J. said confidently. He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and showed me his student ID. Nice mug shot, I laughed. J.J. rolled his eyes. I told the bitch at the University Center shop to use more light but she didn't listen, he griped. Let's ride the bus together, I said, and we made our way to the Blair Station.

J.J. and I rode the 95 bus to Hurdman, then switched to the 4. I like the school already, J.J. said a few minutes later as we got off near Minto Center. Why is that? I asked, as if I were surprised. Carleton is an awesome school. Lots of foreigners and interprovincial visitors think so. I don't speak a lick of French so I couldn't get into Ottawa University, J.J. shrugged. He rolled his eyes at me. Fuck those French bastards, he laughed. I shook my head. I'm fluent in French as well as English so watch what you say, I chastised him. J.J. shrugged. My bad lady, he grinned.

We made our way to the University Center, and caught the elevator to the fourth floor.

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