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“There’s a big bingo game on the reserve this weekend.”
    “Fabulous,” says Bob, who is running out of adjectives and who is sorry that Linda has started dropping things from shoulder level instead of bending over the way she used to when she wanted him to look at her breasts.
    “One of the prizes,” says Linda, “is a White baby.”
So
    When Louis gets to the bingo hall that night with the baby in the airmail box, there’s not a single seat left. “I told you this was a good idea,” he tells Orena.
    “They came for the truck.”
    “Isn’t the truck next week?”
    “No,” say Orena, “the truck is this week.”
    “So we have a truck and a White baby tonight.”
    “Technically,” say Orena, “that’s correct.”
    “Okay, so we double up and put the baby with the truck,” say Louis, who is pleased to have come up with this without even thinking.
    Orena is about to tell Louis that this is another one of his bad ideas, when she sees Bob Wakutz and his administrative assistant, Linda Blackenship, come into the bingo hall.
    “Did I tell you I shot an eighty-one today,” says Louis. “Maybe you should give The Herald a call.”
    “Forget golf,” says Orena. “We’ve got a problem.”
Yes
    “We’ve got a problem,” Linda tells Bob. “If you move this way a little and look to the right of the stage, you’ll see a heavy-set Indian guy in a gold golf shirt standing next to an Indian woman in jeans and a white top, who is, if I’m not mistaken, related to that Indian woman from Red Deer whose baby we apprehended last month and are in the process of putting up for adoption.”
    Bob has never been fond of long, compound/complex sentences, but he does support the use of neutral terms such as “apprehended” and non-emotional phrases such as “in the process of putting up for adoption.” However, he does not like problems.
    “Claimed we had the wrong family,” says Linda. “How many times have we heard that one?”
    “Hey, look,” says Bob. “The grand prize is a new Ford truck.”
    “What about the baby?” says Linda.
    “We’ll apprehend it right after the game for the truck,” says Bob, and he puts the warrant back in his pocket, stops one of the bingo girls, and buys four cards.
While
    Orena and Louis stand by the truck with the baby in the airmail box.
    “Those are the two assholes from the Alberta Child Placement Agency who took my cousin’s little boy,” says Orena. “They must be here for the White baby.”
    “Problem solved,” says Louis.
    “You can’t give them the baby,” says Orena.
    “Why not?” says Louis.
    “Precedence,” say Orena. “We can’t let government agencies kidnap a member of the tribe.”
    “The baby’s a member of our tribe?”
    “That’s probably why it was sent to us,” says Orena.
    “It doesn’t look Indian,” says Louis, even though he knows that not all Indian babies look Indian.
    “Maybe it’s part Indian,” says Orena.
    “Just great,” says Louis. “Things were certainly easier when we were in harmony with nature.”
And then
    Linda turns to Bob and says, “What if I were to tell you that that baby was ours.”
    Bob knows that there is a right answer to this question, but he can’t remember what it is.
    “The White baby?”
    “Yes.”
    “You’re kidding,” he says, and he’s pretty sure that this is not the right answer.
    “What if I were to tell you that you got me pregnant,” says Linda, “and that, after I gave birth, I mailed it to the reserve in order to punish you?”
    Bob puts his fingers in his nose and takes a deep breath.
    “Our child?”
    “What would you say?”
    “Wonderful,” says Bob, who hasn’t run out ofadjectives after all. “Look, there’s the truck you can win. God, is it gorgeous!”
    “Yes,” said Linda. “That’s exactly what I thought you would say.”
And just then
    The game begins. Louis hands the baby in the airmail box to Orena and goes to the microphone to drum up