It was dark and stormy. The streets were filled with lost souls and reckless abandon. This morning, we began our session in perhaps the most Manitoban way possible, in the midst of a snowstorm. Our diligent and dedicated cabinet and executive members trekked through the ice and snow to arrive at Kelvin High School this morning for 8:00 am.
Our dedicated troops channeled the skills learned in the Armed Forces Reform Act to follow the dogmatic doctrine of our Premier. After hours of strenuous labour, to the dismay of the elements who had tried so hard to watch us fail, we successfully cleared a path from the clogged street to the entrance of the school. The bleak remnants of our vitality carried us through our physical isolation.
This was not the end of our misery. Our executive expelled their final burst of energy to reach for the door handle, hoping for some gentle relief in the drifts of endless misery. They reached out desperate hands, only to find that the door was locked. The sound of twenty-four hearts shattering rang through the cold, empty air.
Cabinet members took refuge in the surrounding vehicles, the limited shelter we could find in the desolate landscape.
****** Time passes ******
After minutes of waiting in the comfort of our own agony, the Minster of Revenue found the contact information for the custodian on Google. The custodian arrived within the hour and let us into the building. We entered the school and collapsed at the heath of the innards of Kelvin High School, knowing we would survive to debate again.