Are you telling me this isn't a Stephen King novel, eh?

Voyons donc, imagine that. Archaeologists digging in a Roman necropolis found three skeletons, like, with big iron nails *on their chests*. Not just in the coffin, not nearby, but *on their chests*. They're saying it was probably to "protect" people from restless spirits. Ben là, protecting the living and the dead. From what, a zombified Roman, eh? That's some serious deep-drill superstition, you know? Like, you think you're having a bad day at the Bell Park boardwalk, then you remember someone hammered nails into a corpse to keep it from haunting the neighbourhood. Makes my stress about Laurentian's next budget meeting seem… manageable.

Can you even imagine trying to pull that in Sudbury? We got enough spirits roaming around from the old mining days, and I guarantee you nobody's trying to pin them down with a couple of roofing nails. We got enough ore to extract without digging up ancient Italians and their weird anti-zombie tactics. We put our faith in a good blueberry patch and a strong cup of coffee, eh? Not a whole lot of room for ancient Roman ghost-warding rituals when you're just trying to get across town without hitting a crater-sized pothole, n'est-ce pas?

Bonjour du Nord — c'est Sudbury, on lâche pas. Let's go.

You know Keith and the gang would have a field day with this one — catch the full breakdown every morning at mornings.live.