Concerning Debcons, and The Great Tim Tam Heresy

My friends, my dear, dear friends, we have been led astray. The path we have been following faithfully, it turns out, is but a maze of deception. We have been led astray.

Let me explain.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. It was about seven o'clock on a Saturday night. Most of us had arrived at Lai Toh Heen restaurant near Mount Pleasant and Eglinton for our "Taste of Kitai" dinner and Debcon Bright Weavings Get Together. Things were going about as usual. Guy was buying drinks (thank you, Sir); people were renewing old accquaintances, and making new ones; we were all admiring Niel's authentic first off the press editions of Lord of Emperors, Ysabel, and Under Heaven; I was calling Paula on my cell phone... As is also usual at these gatherings, new people were fitting in like old friends. At one point, I wandered over to the other table to see how things were going. Loni was there. Our eyes met. There was a sudden hush around the table - almost a stillness in the room. And then, she said those three little words: "I brought Tim-tams."

For a moment, I didn't say anything. Then, as is my wont, I tried to make light of the situation. "Where," I said, "are we going to find hot chocolate?"

It was Loni's turn to spend a moment in silence. The look of confusion on her face alarmed me. "What," she finally managed, "what ever would you want with hot chocolate?"

I looked around furtively. There were several of the uninitiated in the room. I leaned in close. I whispered, "you know, for the...slams."

She laughed. Not with malice, but with affection. She patted my hand reassuringly, much as one would pat the hand of a young child who had just announced that he doubted the existence of Santa Claus, or the Easter Bunny... or Jesus. "Silly boy," she said. "You do Tim-tam slams with coffee, not hot chocolate."

The room spun. I struggled to maintain my footing on a floor threatening to fall out from under me. "But, but, Thunderchi-, Terry... he said-"

Someone else spoke then. In my condition I could not even tell who, but the words shall be burned indelibly on my soul from this time until eternity: "Paul, Terry didn't drink coffee." At last the heresy was revealed. Terry, Thunderchild, he who preceeded us all, had taught us an alternative Tim-tam slam. He had modified the traditional ritual in order to suit his own, personal tastes and preferences. Our slamming had never been authentic. From the very beginning, we had indulged in a fake cultural phenomenon. Happily, blissfully unaware of the error of our ways, we had slammed Arnott's Chocolate Biscuits using the wrong hot drink. We were like Anglicans taking fake communion, moderate muslim women wearing pants, Hindus eating hamburger. We were heretics.

I welcomed the inquisition. I confessed my sins. I renounced my heretical ways.

I ordered a coffee. Carefully, I nipped the diagonally opposite corners off a delicate chocolate biscuit. I dipped it into the strong, black, unsweetened chinese brew. I drew the warm liquid in through the makeshift chocolate straw. Just as the bitter coffee hit my tongue, I shoved the rapidly softening cookie into my mouth.

Oh.

My.

God!

My friends, the truth was revealed to me that night. The everlasting truth that is the real path of the Tim-tam slam was delivered to me in a blast of mouth watering, soggy, bitter-sweet Arnott's Chocolate Biscuit. And I cannot keep this truth to myself. It fills me to overflowing. I must pass it on. Hear me now, friends. Get up off your couch. Get youself down to your local imported confectioner and buy a package of Tim-tams. Pick up a coffee at Dunkin Donuts on the way home - black, no sugar. And then, my friends, my children, my dear, dear children, and then... Slam those babies!

Hallelujah!