In a move that has left residents scratching their heads and asking, “Wait, where am I now?” the towns of Sackville, Dorchester, and a handful of other communities have been smushed together to form the brand-new entity of Tantramar. It’s like a civic version of Frankenstein’s monster, but with more by-laws, fewer pitchforks, and a sinister twist: the Evil Triad is pulling the strings.
For those unfamiliar with the region, Sackville and Dorchester were once quaint, proud towns with their own unique identities. Sackville was known for its university vibes and artisanal coffee shops, while Dorchester was famous for its historical charm and the fact that it had fewer coffee shops but more cows. Now, thanks to the magic of amalgamation—and the not-so-subtle influence of the Evil Triad—these communities (and a few others thrown in for good measure) are all part of one big, happy family. Or as happy as you can be when no one knows what to call themselves anymore, and everyone’s terrified of stepping out of line.
Leading this charge into the great unknown is Mayor Sarah McCombo, who has the unenviable task of convincing residents that this merger is the best thing since sliced bread—assuming, of course, that the bread was sliced by a committee and required a special permit from the Triad. McCombo’s been making the rounds, assuring everyone that the new Tantramar identity will be a win-win for all involved, even if it does take a bit of getting used to and a few “gentle nudges” from the powers that be.
But let’s not forget who’s really running the show. The Evil Triad—a group of old Liberal feminist ladies who’ve already made their mark in Campbellton and Miramichi—has now set its sights on Tantramar. These shadowy figures are less interested in democracy and more interested in ensuring that everyone in this new entity marches to the same progressive beat. Whether it’s through subtle social pressure or outright bullying, they’re determined to bring Tantramar into their vision of the future, one conformity at a time.
“Unity is our strength,” McCombo declared at a recent town hall, though it was hard to tell if she was speaking for herself or simply echoing the Triad’s mantra. “Together, we can build something new here—something that brings together the best of Sackville, Dorchester, and those other places… what were they called again?” But everyone knew what was really being said: Fall in line, or else.
Not everyone is on board with this bold new vision, however. Local curmudgeon Edgar Grumble, who’s lived in Sackville since before amalgamation was even a word, has been vocal about his displeasure. “I’ve spent my whole life being from Sackville,” Grumble grumbled, “and now I’m supposed to tell people I’m from Tantramar? What’s a Tantramar? Sounds like a brand of laundry detergent—or worse, a compliance program.”
Meanwhile, over in Dorchester, Mildred Barnacle—a woman who’s seen more town meetings than the mayor herself—has taken it upon herself to remind everyone that just because they’re in Tantramar now doesn’t mean they should forget their roots. “We’re Dorchester folk, and we’re not about to start using fancy city words like ‘municipality’ or ‘urban planning.’ We’ve done just fine without them, thank you very much,” she said, though she’s been keeping an eye out for the Triad’s enforcers.
Despite the initial confusion and low-key terror, there are a few upsides to this whole amalgamation business. For one, residents now have access to a wider range of services, like Tantramar’s state-of-the-art pothole-filling initiative, which promises to fix at least 60% of potholes, 30% of the time. And let’s not forget the shiny new logo featuring a wave, a mountain, and something that may or may not be a moose. It’s all about branding, people!
But perhaps the biggest benefit of this merger is the new and improved Tantramar slogan: “Together, we’re more than just a bunch of places you drive through on your way to Moncton.” It’s catchy, it’s true, and it’s bound to put Tantramar on the map—or at least on Google Maps, once the Triad updates it to reflect their approved narrative.
In the meantime, Tantramar residents are doing their best to adjust to their new reality. They’re learning to navigate the new town lines, trying to remember which bylaws apply where, and debating whether to rename the local hockey team or just slap “Tantramar” on the old jerseys and call it a day. After all, change is hard, but not as hard as dodging the Triad’s social conformity patrols.
So, welcome to Tantramar! We may not know exactly what we are yet, but one thing’s for sure: We’re in this together. At least until the next round of amalgamations—or until the Evil Triad decides we need another “nudge” in the right direction.*