Luther was too excited for words. He watched the postal worker pull the case off the back of his truck. He’d been waiting six long weeks for this package.
His family and friends thought he was crazy. Melnik, his next door neighbour called him ‘loonie’. Melnik couldn’t conceive of someone wanting to order a case of prairie air.
Despite the scoffers, Luther wasn’t dissuaded. He believed it to be a necessity of life. Too long he’d endured the environment of Hamilton. It’s an industrial city. A steel city. Ever since he moved there six years ago he struggled to adjust to the ubiquitous, nefarious stench. He often asked Melnik, a lifelong Hamiltonian, “Aren’t you tired of chewing your air?”
It was a revelation the day Luther discovered the website from Winnipeg, Manitoba, self-proclaimed home of the freshest air in the world. The site offered to ship cans of the fresh air anywhere in the world.
Luther leapt at the opportunity. He ordered a case of twenty-four cans. Six weeks later it arrived on his doorstep. He tore open the package and examined one of the aluminum cans. A picture of the bald prairie was emblazoned on the side. He imagined the pure air fill his lungs. It was a serene impression.
Then he noticed a warning on the side of the can. “For novelty purposes only. Not for human consumption. May contain toxic gases from production process.”
Some things are too good to be true.