Video One: Hello Citizens!

[lesliemonster]

Hello, Paw – um. Wait a—

[The screen comes up, and the viewer is treated to a lovely close up shot of a single, blue eye. Then a nose, and then there’s the rest of her! Leslie sits at her desk chair, wearing a blue blazer set that she specifically purchased for today. She clears her throat, and smiles.]

Hello. I am Leslie Knope, from Pawnee, Indiana. United States. Planet Earth. [A pause. How cool is this!?] I really admire the work that you all are doing here, and I am so happy for the opportunity to roll up my sleeves and pitch in. Metaphorically. Phorically, I would possibly change my shirt first and then help however I can.

[If anyone needs her to help build cabinets, she has a toolbox – no, Leslie! Stay on topic.] I’ve got a few ideas for upcoming community activities! Now, what is the status of your parks around here?

[Edit: Spam for residents of Level 8: Sitting in front of your doors, you will find a small basket of various candy treats, including several Nutra-Yum Bars. There is a note attached that says:

"A little taste of Pawnee, Indiana. From your new neighbor, Leslie Knope!

P.S. Please don't eat more than one Nutra-Yum bar a day or your teeth may fall out. That is not an expression, that is a legal disclaimer."]

Comments

[19centconstable]

Hello Miss Knope! I'm Constable George Crabtree, from Toronto, Ontario, Canada, also planet Earth. I think activities are a splendid idea! We could all do with a good, non-threatening bonding experience. ...That is the sort of thing you had in mind, isn't it?

[lesliemonster]

No threats at all. Except maybe the threat of too much fun.

[She pauses. Both to wonder why a Canadian is in a cowboy hat, and to think of past shock journalism, courtesy of Pawnee Today with Joan Callamezzo.]

Too much fun is not an actual threat. People have never died from fun on my watch. There was this one time at a hot dog eating competition, but it just turned out to be a heart attack. Thank God.

[19centconstable]

[Canada is a progressive land, where citizens are allowed to wear any sort of hat they'd like. Also someone won it for him at a carnival game.]

That's good to hear. Not about the heart attack, I mean. God rest his or her soul. Although I don't suppose dying of fun would be the worst way one might go: my aunt Begonia, for example, died laughing.

[lesliemonster]

[There are carnivals in Canada? Are they staffed by polar bears? That is just majestic.

Their cultures have so much to learn from one another.]

Really? Good for her!

[If she could find any happiness at all in that foreign land -- wait. Manners, Leslie Knope.]

I am sorry for your loss.

[19centconstable]

[Also circuses. But this particular carnival game was at a traveling wild west show: Buffalo Bill's, to be exact. Also Annie Oakley was there. And murder.]

She was laughing at my Uncle Calvert, who had fallen off his milking stool, and just: went. It was very sudden, and reportedly painless. It's quite alright.

[lesliemonster]

[And murder???

Leslie shakes her head. That bastard farm furniture.]

We've had ten milk stool related deaths in the tri-county area alone over the past ten years. When are people going to start nailing those things to the ground?

[19centconstable]

[Murder. Even in Canada.]

I'm afraid that might lead to more cow related deaths. They aren't conscientious animals.

[lesliemonster]

No they are not. Do you know how many baseball games we have had to cancel because cows wander out onto the field and start giving birth?

Enough that it's how most children of Pawnee learn where babies come from.

...that or watching raccoons go at it.

[19centconstable]

Well, cow babies. I'm not sure how raccoons fighting fit into things...

[lesliemonster]

Oh, raccoons can fit into just about everything. We once found of a nest of them hiding out in a peanut butter jar.

Granted, it was a family sized peanut butter jar.

[19centconstable]

I can certainly believe that. Detective Murdoch and I once had to use a ferret to track a blood trail, because the dog was occupied, and instead it went straight up the detective's pant-leg and for his sensitive bits.

But still: what has that got to do with babies?

[lesliemonster]

Ferrets don't do well in my town. The racoons edged them all out years ago.

[Like a very controlled animal mafia.]

It doesn't. Just the cows. You see a baby calf crawl out of its mother's literal cow hole, you are gonna have some questions.

[19centconstable]

Such as what?

[lesliemonster]

Such as:

Why was that tiny cow covered in blood?

Is that how all baby animals come into the world?

If there is a newborn cow on third base, can it be made an honorary member of the team? Like a much more adorable Air Bud?

Where do tiny, baby cows come from?

Where do babies come from?

[It's the most natural train of questions in the world.]

[19centconstable]

I believe that would be a penalty: too many players on the field.

[lesliemonster]

That...is a damn good point.

[100% serious. You get the nod of approval, George.]

[19centconstable]

Thank you, miss. We have a team down at the station.