"Rodney!" John called, running up to the scientist. Rodney turned around irritably.

"What?" he snapped. John frowned at him.

"Good morning to you too," he greeted. Rodney sighed, closing his eyes.

"What do you want?" he asked, rubbing his eyelids with his fingers. John's grin returned.

"Have you ever heard of 'Weird' Al?" After getting a blank look in reply, John continued. "Well, he's this really odd singer, really popular in the States. He doesn't have a single serious song and a lot of them are parodies of other really popular songs. Like, he did a Spider-Man song to Billy Joel's Piano Man." John could see Rodney didn't care. At all. So he quickly jumped to the point before losing his friend completely. "He just came out with a new CD—"

"How do you know that?" Rodney asked suddenly. John blinked at him, not comprehending at first.

"Oh," he realized. Then he just grinned again. "I have my ways."

Rodney's eyebrows crinkled, confused.

"The point is, there's a parody to Green Day's 'American Idiot' on the CD," John went on, "called 'Canadian Idiot'."

Rodney's eyes flew wide open. "What?" he yelled. "American Idiot, I understand, but Canadian? I'm—"

"I know, Rodney!" John interrupted. "Will you let me go on?"

Rodney shut up, crossing his arms across his chest and glaring at John. "Fine."

"All right," John said excitedly. "The lyrics—"

"I don't want to hear the lyrics!" Rodney irrupted. "I don't—"

"Oh, come on, Rodney!" John begged, putting on his best puppy dog eyes. "Just listen? It won't even take two minutes."

"Save the puppy eyes for the girls, Kirk," Rodney muttered. "Fine, I'll listen."

John's grin beamed again. "All right. Don't wanna be a Canadian Idiot/ Don't wanna be some beer-swilling hockey nut—"

"That is extremely stereo-typical!" Rodney burst, arms falling to his side. John sighed.

"Yes, Rodney. That's the point. Going on… And do I look like some frostbitten hose head/ I never learned my alphabet from A to Zed…you know, I never understood why you called to ZPM a "Zed" PM until now."

Rodney simply glared at him, refolding his arms.

"They all live on donuts and moose meat/ And they leave the house without packin' heat/ Never even bring their guns to the mall/ And you know what else is too funny/ Their stupid Monopoly money/ Can't take 'em seriously at all… Which is really true, you know. Well, maple syrup and snow's what they export/ They treat curling just like it's a real sport…What is curling, by the way? Never mind, you can explain later. They think their silly accent is so cute/ Can't understand a thing they're talking aboot…which, in your case, has nothing to do with your accent. Sure they got their national health care/ Cheaper meds, lower crime rates and clean air/ Then again, well, they got Celine Dion…who's really hot…Eat their weight in Kraft macaroni…which is really gross…And dream of drivin' a Zamboni/ All over Saskatchewan/ Don't wanna be a Canadian Idiot/ Won't figure out the temperature in Celsius/ See the map, they're hovering right over us/ Tell you the truth, it makes me kinda nervous…and this is where it gets really funny…Always hear the same kinda story/ Break their nose and they'll just say 'sorry'…which is totally not true, look at you…Tell me what kinda freaks are that polite/ It's gotta mean they're all up to somethin'/ So quick, before they see it comin'/ Time for a pre-emptive strike!" John took a quick step back when he saw the look on Rodney's face.

"So, tell me, Rodney," he said, slowly backing away from the fuming scientist. "Are you Canadians planning to take over the world?"

Rodney let out a bellow, lunging at John. The colonel laughed and turned around to run the opposite direction. The chase was on.\

A/N: I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!