A Salacious Story: COVID Winter Takes City of Champions by Storm

Beaux Hunkman is always there to free freedoms that need to be freed!

The sun sets early once again on Edmonton’s frosty skyline. Another deep freeze had set in adding a fresh sparkle to Edmonton’s twinkling skyscrapers. The city is quiet -- like 12a.m. on a weekday, but it was 5p.m. on a Friday. Normally Jasper Ave was bustling with government workers driving home to the Saint Sherwoods of Leduc, but everyone was working from home. It was the first year of the COVID-19 pandemic, making Valentine's Day one of the least kissiest since the Spanish flu. The High Level Bridge was lit pink, white and red to try and bring some love and solidarity for this VD holiday. Loved ones curled up on the couch as they self-isolated and chilled. Those who were alone had to get creative with their Valentine's plan. Others just dug into their work because for some people protecting freedom is a 24/7 job. 

Looking out at the city from a snowy apartment patio overlooking Saskatchewan Drive, a radio is being tuned...

FZZZZ -- It’s time now for the five o’clock news FZZZZ - “The CDC announced today that mask mandates and vaccinations are critical to protecting....” FZZZ

As the radio tuned to the next station on the dial, our “hero” Beaux Hunkman can be seen watching over his city -- his lung wheezing with anticipation for someone’s freedom to run afoul. 

Now, before we go further, please do not confuse our hero, Beaux Hunkman with a typical BoHunk. Which, according to Dictionary.com, is a derogatory and offensive name for an unskilled labourer with ethnic origins in Eastern European Bohemia. His parents made the choice to name him Beaux Chad Hunkman. It wasn't until young Beaux was playing competitive PeeWee hockey when one of his teammates made the connection during his team initiation ceremony. After that long night being duct taped naked to the crossbars of the hockey net, Beaux the boy died and Bohunk the man was ready to live free or die. His jersey number to this day is 69, and his pubic hair never really did grow back in spots. 

As the cold wind blew through the mesh of Beaux Hunkman’s lawn chair the radio dial finally found its home. This time a grown man is yelling like a child...

FZZFF “...  a trick. A trick to steal our freedoms. Ruin small businesses. Control. This world needs less politicians and quote unquote doctors from the corrupt W-H-O calling the shots. I pay my taxes and should have the freedom to choose not to participate in this global experiment...”

“You got that right, brother” said Beaux Hunkman, his silhouette dramatically lit by the bright screens of multiple devices. After weeks of freeing freedoms across Edmonton he now had a loyal band of followers tagging him on X -- formally known as Twitter. His 65” tv was dedicated to Fox News, while his laptop lay exposed flashing multiple windows of close-ups where flesh pounded flesh with incestuous backstories.   

A helicopter thundered overhead. Its spotlight quickly lit up our hero in all his true glory. Beaux Hunkman’s Canadian Flag cape gapped between the ribs of his mom’s lawn chair overlooking the city from his balcony. His mask was a plaid fur trapper hat with the front pulled down and two eye holes cut out of the brim, allowing him to clearly watch the Liberal machine remove the people’s freedoms -- while keeping his ears toasty warm. His Carhartt overalls,  thick plaid jacket, construction boots, and work gloves lay at his feet. He wasn’t a typical hero, and he certainly did NOT cover his face with a mask. 

AHH CHOOOOOO!

He sneezed into the night causing the condensation of warm phlegm against the cold winter air to sparkle like snowflakes. They drifted effortlessly downwards upon the line of Uber and Skip Drivers waiting to get in the building. 

His cell phone chimed with a direct message. He looked at it. His X was going gangbusters. One of his followers sent him a live video post featuring a convenience store owner refusing to serve them because they were not wearing masks. Beaux Hunkman had eyes and ears everywhere. With a simple click of the geolocation button, Google maps popped-up to reveal the incident at a 7-11 only 2-minutes away. 

“Freedom is going to... [COUGH, COUGH] ... be free tonight,” said Beaux Hunk Man with a raspy twang in his voice. In seconds he packed all his devices, saving the porn for last. After one last look, he draped his Canada Flag across his face and sped inside his government subsidized apartment. Although he’s been on disability for the last year from a minor construction accident, he still worked cash jobs to help further subsidize his freedom fighting mission.

Two minutes later, he closed the front door to his apartment and zipped up his pants as he made his way towards the elevator. The doors opened. The bright fluorescent glow from the elevator revealed beads of sweat speckling Beaux Hunkmank’s face. Snot was running from his nose, clumping in his chin strap beard. The elevator stopped and the doors opened on another floor. A couple enters wearing their masks. They stood in shock and disbelief as the elevator doors closed behind them.

“Christ, Chad. You look terrible. Are you okay?” Asked the man, trying to be neighbourly but not too thrilled about the COVID exposure. He did his best to stand between Beaux Hunkman and his girlfriend. 

“You should be wearing a mask if you’re sick,” she said. 

“I am wearing my mask,” replied Beaux Hunk Man with a heroic indignation as he stared at her out of the eye holes from his plaid trapper hat. “Besides, you don’t have the authority to tell me what to do! I am the right! Defender of....” 

She quickly interrupts. “Yeah we know, Chad... defender of our fucking freedoms. Well here’s to you, breaker of the social contract.” She lets out an audible fart. The boyfriend inhales the last whiff of clean air. The elevator descends slowly. He turns and looks at her with panic in his eyes. “What?! It’s a free country. Besides, screw this guy. He’s going to give everyone in the building COVID.” 

“Beaux Hunkman respects your decision to exercise...exercise... your freedoms, Mam.” As he chokes in the freshly minted breeze. He made a mental note that he had to take better care of disguising himself when he was dressed as Beaux Hunkman.

DING!

Beaux Hunkman steadied himself and got into position to run dramatically out of the elevator. With a Canadian Flag raised over his arm, he mentally prepared for the heroic sprint through the lobby, into the bustling winter streets of Alberta’s Oil Country. 

The elevator doors open, and Beaux Hunkman dashed out in a huff. Behind him, we see the woman giving him the finger, and the husband holding his nose. Beaux Hunkman was unfazed by her flatulence of freedom. He lost his sense of smell days ago. 

The cold frosty air on Jasper Avenue hit Beaux Hunkman square in the face. He coughed. And then coughed again. An ambulance siren squealed in the background as he ran full tilt towards his self-righteous destiny. 

By the time he reached the 7-11, Beaux Hunkman was sweaty and panting, trying to catch his breath. The person who sent him the message was nowhere in sight. No matter though. For Beaux Hunkman understood the assignment. Purchase... perhaps a lottery ticket? Maybe a Monster Energy Drink? Definitely a copy of Club Magazine. His new friends on 4Chan made a compelling argument to not trust the man in the hat behind Google’s incognito window. Then, when he reaches the till maskless, he will record the moment when he is denied service -- his freedom.

Yes! In one fell swoop of the record button, he will once again contribute to the growing trend of YouTube videos displaying undeniable proof that his human rights were violated. If enough heroes posted videos like this, then Canada’s Supreme Court would have no other option but to arrest Trudeau and his cronies and put them to work in Alberta’s oil sands -- for life! At least that’s what his online message boards were saying. As long as the idea smelled of justice and freedom, Beaux Hunkman would be there to flex his influencer status.

“Excuse me, sir! Can you please wear a mask? You’re clearly unwell,” said the security guard tending the front door of the 7-11. Beaux Hunkman stumbled past him, unfazed by the request. He grabbed a warm energy drink from a display case, and made his way to the dwindling magazine rack. 

The security guard once again politely asks him to put on a mask. 

With his phone in hand he stood his ground. “Beaux Hunkman will no longer let you contribute to this inju... injus... STICE!... ACHEWW!” 

The sound of the sneeze sends shockwaves through the busy 7-11. Everyone stopped and looked at our hero. The stunned security guard blinked past the translucent goop that speckled his plastic face shield. The customers closest to the doors abandoned their last minute Valentine’s Day shopping gifts and left. It was not worth it. Those stuck in the back of the store watched our hero intensely. Each one waited for a window of opportunity to squeeze past him, while maintaining 6-feet of distance. An elderly woman looked on with fear as she finished paying for her cigarettes. Another women, 9-months pregnant and just there for a fucking Taquito and carton of Cherry Garcia ice cream quickly jockied herself into position as next in line. 

Alas, the Beaux Hunkman was already standing in the way, face pale with sickness and an err of regret. The two-minute sprint to the 7-11 was too much for our fateful hero, and that last sneeze left him gasping for breath. Unfortunately for everyone there, the lack of oxygen to his brain finally won the day. There was little else to do but watch. 

It was as if an invisible hand swung down from the heavens and bashed our hero squarely in the face, Beaux Hunkman went down like a sack of shit. Trying to catch his balance he reached for a pyramid display of N95 masks. The weight of the light cardboard boxes were not enough to save our hero. The energy drink in his hand smashed against the tile floor and exploded with a BANG! And a FIZZ! The sugary liquid covered the poor old woman buying cigarettes in a thin sticky film. 

“Oh, fuck!” Yelled the pregnant woman next to the ice cream cooler. A third type of liquid was now running across the light grey tiled floor of the 7-11. They mixed into a pink caffeinated ooze. 

An ambulance was called immediately. Within minutes a first responder arrived. All in spite of the insane schedule and lack of services due to constant government cuts in funding to help justify the privatization of healthcare -- something Beaux Hunkman totally supports, despite the fact he could never afford the services with his health insurance plan.

As the tired paramedics took stock of the scene they couldn't believe their eyes -- it was a long day but nothing prepared them for this. Beaux Hunkman laid unconscious, weezing gently on a pile of N95 masks and flattened cardboard boxes. The security guard was assisting the pregnant woman who was on the phone with her partner. The old lady with the cigarettes got the hell out of there before the paramedics arrived. 

After checking the woman’s vitals they triaged the situation -- like Goddamn heroes. It was a hard choice, but they loaded Beaux Hunkman onto a stretcher. Gave him an oxygen mask and drove him to the hospital as quickly as possible. Had he been conscious he would have refused the oxygen mask. Nothing will ever cover his right to speak. 

It might not sound right, but Beaux Hunkman was the priority. And besides, the paramedics would have had to take the pregnant woman to the Royal Alexandria Hospital, and she was much better off at almost any other hospital in the city -- other than the Miz. 

What of our fateful hero?

He was in intensive care for three weeks on an incubator tube. It was touch and go for a long while but eventually he pulled through. He now suffers from long COVID so his days of heroics and running down the street in a hunters cap and Canadian Flag in search of righting wrongs and freeing freedoms are over. But that doesn’t mean our indignant hero gave up the good fight. To this day Beaux Chad Hunkman remains unvaccinated. Since qualifying for CERB and long-term disability, he’s continued to level-up his influencer game by posting on multiple accounts on X, three different QAnon message boards on 4Chan, 8Chan, and Gab.com. Oh! He has a podcast as well. 

ACHOOO!