Saturday, August 25, 2007

Stifling a Yawn

"This place is Dullsville."

That's what Oscar had to say a few days ago. Then he yawned in a grand and noisy fashion.

We were sitting on the Wonders' front porch at the time. The Sack was deserted. Even the birds seemed to have taken a temporary vow of silence. A small white cat ambled across the street in front of us. It was the only apparent sign of life in the neighbourhood.

The only thing missing, according to Oscar, was a large ball of tumbleweed meandering up the street.

As befits this time of year, nothing of great significance occurred in the Sack during the temperate days of August. Mostly, there were only the usual events that arise from the tedium of suburban life. This week's offering, therefore, provides a smorgasbord of minor Sack news culled from the dog days of summer.

Hopefully, it won't cause the reader to yawn.

***
Almost everyone seemed to be off work during the second week of August. Most residents spent this time doing various bits of household maintenance.

Big Doug, of course, was the busiest Sack resident in this regard. He applied a new coat of wood stain to his back deck and painted the handrails on his front porch. His driveway also received another coat of black sealant. Twice, in the span of a week, he washed his truck with great care. More than a few hours of his time was spent tending to his award-winning lawn.

It would be safe to say that Big Doug's house looks fabulous.

***
Gordon spent his week emulating Big Doug.

The day after Big Doug stained his deck, Gordon did the same. On Wednesday of that week, he resealed his driveway. It was the day after Big Doug completed the same task. Even though it only left his driveway on a few occasions, Gordon also washed his immaculate SUV twice.

The only time Gordon synchronized his household maintenance activity with Big Doug was on Friday. That's when both mowed their respective lawns at the same time.

Oscar is always greatly amused when Gordon and Big Doug mow their lawns at the same time. Set to the appropriate music, he says their identical movements create a unique form of suburban ballet.

He could be right about this.

***

Last Sunday, Florence returned from her month-long stay at her cottage. Her house did not burn down in her absence.

Your agent, of course, was responsible for the safety and security of her home during that period. As usual, Florence expressed her gratitude for my efforts. As always, I replied in my usual fashion.

"It was no sweat," I said calmly.

But if you heard a loud whooshing sound emanating from Canada's eastern seaboard last Sunday, there should be no cause for alarm. It was just the release of accumulated pressure rising from the depths of your agent's soul.

Ensuring the safety of an absent neighbour's home is a heavy burden over a month-long period. Fire, flood and pestilence loom on every horizon when you occupy such a role. It's enough to drive a man to the brink of madness.

Now, of course, I've been released from these chains of responsibility. Suddenly, it seems like I'm lighter than air.

And if Florence's house burns down now (God forbid), it will have nothing to do with my stewardship.

***
Ben has been tasked for a deployment in Afghanistan. He's supposed to leave in January of next year. He'll be away for six months.

Ben, of course, is a senior cook in the Canadian Forces. A deployment of this nature has been looming over him for some time. But now, it's official.

Neither Ben, nor Norma, were overly pleased about this development. Ben has one more year to go before he will retire from the military with a full pension. They were hoping he could finish his stint without another deployment.

On a positive note, Ben says the deployment does provide some significant financial incentives. At the end of it, he says he'll have "a big of chunk of change" he wasn't expecting to have.

This means he'll finally be able to buy the snow blower of his dreams.

***
Ben has always wanted to buy a snow blower. Norma has been far less enthusiastic about the idea.

If Ben owned a snow blower, Norma says he'll disappear for hours to clear other people's sidewalks and driveways after a winter storm. Then he'll spend more time doing routine snow blower maintenance. She says he'll probably take the thing apart several times and then put it back together again.

A snow blower, in Norma's opinion, will become Ben's mistress during the long winter months.

The last time Ben wanted to buy a snow blower, Norma was successful in talking him out of the idea. They took a trip to Cuba, instead. This time, however, there will be more than enough money to do both.

Norma says she's praying for an acceleration of global warming this year.

***
Jeff Christ was also around during the second week of August. He took some time off from his job as team leader at a local call centre. It's the same place where Weed draws a precarious pay cheque.

Most of Jeff Christ's time was devoted to some serious off-road biking. Across the main road from the Sack is a provincial park. A massive wooded area surrounds a freshwater lake. There are numerous paths for the adventurous bike rider.

Each morning, Jeff Christ emerged from Ben and Norma's house clad in his biking gear. A small knapsack was on his back. Presumably, it carried his lunch and any other necessary supplies for a day spent in the woods.

By mid-afternoon, Jeff would reappear in the Sack. His clothing and bike gear would be covered in mud and dirt. But there was always a big smile on his face. When asked about his day, Jeff had the same reply every time.

"It was awesome, man."

Before cleaning himself up, Jeff would set up his bike in an upside-down position on the driveway. Then he would commence to clean it thoroughly and perform any necessary maintenance.

Sack kids, of course, hold Jeff Christ in very high regard. Whenever, he works on his bike in this fashion, they emerge from their homes as if an ice cream truck had just rumbled into the Sack. They bring their bikes with them and set them beside Jeff's bike in the same upside-down manner. Then Jeff kindly gives the bikes a heavenly tune-up.

Jeff Christ is the Sack's bike repair guru.

***
Burning Manor remains unsold.

Dirk and Dora have had their house on the market now for more than six weeks. During this time, they've received and rejected several low-ball offers on the place. One of the offers came from Rental Doug. Apparently, his offer was the highest, thus far. Nevertheless, it was quickly rejected.

Sack observers point to several reasons why Burning Manor remains on the market. The first reason has everything to do with the increasing deterioration of the home's interior. Rental Doug has now viewed the place on three separate occasions. Each time, he says the state of the home has declined incrementally.

On his most recent visit, Rental Doug observed a fist-sized hole in the wall on the main floor. It was in the hallway that leads to the kitchen. No attempt was made to either hide or improve the wall's appearance.

In addition to the angry hole, there were also dirty dishes in the sink and a distinct odor of cigarettes. Even worse, in Rental Doug's opinion, was the discarded tampon in the main floor powder room. It was sitting on top of an overflowing garbage bin.

Rental Doug said this discovery alone was worth a ten-thousand-dollar reduction on Burning Manor's asking price.

He could be right about this, too.

***
Another reason for Burning Manor's continuing presence on the real estate market concerns the recent appearance of a new inhabitant.

Early in August, a massively obese woman began to appear at Burning Manor with some regularity. Sack observers were uncertain about her status in the home, but there was little doubt that she fit the profile of a bonafide friend of Burning Manor. She appeared to lack any semblance of sophistication, swore like a sailor and maintained a permanent grip on a can of Alexander Keith's India Pale Ale. Even from a distance, it appeared that personal hygiene was low on her list of priorities.

Within a week of her appearance, she also had a run-in with young Doo. For close to half an hour, the boy was using a hockey stick to smack an empty Coke can around the Sack. As Elizabeth described it later, Doo was certainly making "an unholy racket." She was just about to admonish him herself, when the gargantuan woman beat her to it. Apparently, she rumbled onto Burning Manor's porch and bellowed at the boy. Elizabeth said she told Doo to "piss off."

Upon observing the woman's imposing bulk, Doo did exactly as instructed. According to Elizabeth, he even left his hockey stick behind.

***
Norma was able to gather some information about the woman during the most recent installment of Tuesday night bingo. This, of course, is where the Sack often garners background information on the trials and tribulations of Dirk and Dora.

According to Norma's informed sources, the big woman is Dora's friend. Apparently, she was recently released from a federal institution for women after serving her entire sentence without parole. Supposedly, she's residing with Dirk and Dora until she can find a permanent abode.

Rental Doug believes that Burning Manor may actually become her permanent abode. During his most recent visit to inspect the place, he happened to walk out on the elevated rear deck to view the state of the backyard. He said he was shocked to discover the large woman lying on a lounge chair in the backyard. She was wearing a pair of oversized sunglasses and appeared to be asleep. A beer can, a package of cigarettes and a small radio were on a plastic table beside her. The radio, according to Rental Doug, was tuned to a local country and western station.

As long as the woman fails to fully vacate the premises during visits from potential buyers, Rental Doug says it's unlikely the house will fetch an amount anywhere near the asking price.

Once again, he could be right about this.

***
Sack residents have wondered about the nature of the woman's past crimes. Given her girth, Weed says he's certain she must've eaten someone. Oscar, on the other hand, says we can only be sure that it wasn't a white-collar crime.

The woman's name, of course, also remains a mystery. Thankfully, such omissions allow us the privilege of delegating a name anyway. Upon considering the matter, Oscar immediately suggested an appropriate moniker. Normally, the naming of Sack people is a controversial matter filled with arduous debate. In this particular case, however, Weed and your agent simply nodded our approval.

Burning Manor's new resident is now known as Bertha.

***
Finally, we have seen little of Weed over the past few weeks. He was away for two weekends in a row.

Last weekend, Weed and Daisy attended an out-of-town wedding. According to Weed, the trip was unremarkable except for one particular incident.

When the wedding reception ended, Weed and Daisy drove back to their motel. They gave a lift to Weed's older brother, his wife and their fifteen-year-old son, Max.

Weed said Max had enjoyed himself very much during the wedding reception. With only a modicum of stealth, he used the occasion to become acquainted with alcohol for the first time. His parents, of course, were dismayed when they discovered his indulgence. Nevertheless, they decided not to make a big deal about the matter.

"At the very least," Weed's brother said philosophically, "he got drunk for the first time while he was with us, rather than out somewhere with his friends."

Weed said he endorsed his brother's opinion until they were halfway to the motel. That's when Max suddenly engaged in a furious round of projectile vomiting throughout the backseat area.

Daisy was driving the car at the time. At Weed's strident insistence, she pulled over to the side of the road. By this time, the pungent aroma of Max's vomit had transformed the car into a hermetically-sealed sick room. Everyone, save for young Max, fled from the car. Weed, as well as the youth's mother, began vomiting into the ditch.

When everyone had composed themselves, they finally got back in the car. Seated delicately around the pools of vomit in the back seat and with all of the windows open, they finally made it back to the motel.

Weed said no one had any interest in trying to clean the car at such a late hour. It was about three o'clock in the morning. He left the windows down and hoped the cool night air would nullify the strong odour emanating from the car.

In the morning, Weed, his brother and an ashen-faced Max, did the best they could to remove the vomit from the night before.

***
The car has been cleaned thoroughly about five times ever since that night, Weed explained. But the strong odour of vomit has persisted. He now refers to his car as "the Pukemobile." Next week, he's taking it to be professionally cleaned. If this doesn't work, Weed says he's going to push the car into the Atlantic ocean.

Max, meanwhile, remains mortified by his actions in the car. He apologized profusely the next day, but has refused to speak of the matter ever since. According to Weed, the boy claimed the sudden eruption really wasn't his fault.

"I was starting to feel sick, and I thought I had it under control," he explained to his Uncle Weed. "But suddenly I yawned and everything just went out of control."

***

Sunday, August 19, 2007

Hiatus

Your agent will be on a brief hiatus due to miscellaneous life and work demands. I'll be back on August 26th with new Sack tales.

This is the first time I've ever been on a hiatus from anything. You might say I'm a veritable rookie when it comes to the hiatus. The best thing I can do as I enter this hiatus is follow my cardinal rule for whenever I enter uncharted territory: I'm going to wear a pair of comfortable shoes.

Secretly, I've always wanted to be on a hiatus from something. It always sounds very hip whenever someone else does it. Somehow, I don't think it's going to be that way for me. My comfortable shoes aren't particularly hip. Neither am I, for that matter.

Anyway, I've accomplished my two goals with this short missive. I've informed you of my hiatus and I've used the word "hiatus" seven times.

***

Sunday, August 05, 2007

A Slice of Life

On Friday afternoon, a convergence of work-free days saw Oscar, Weed and your agent venture into the downtown quarter. For Weed and your agent, this was part of a vacation week. In Oscar's case, it was just another work day.

This meant he could do whatever he pleased.

***
The afternoon and evening spent cavorting in the downtown quarter occurred only by happenstance. Oscar's wife, G.W., Mrs. Wonders and Daisy were spending the entire day on a tour of second-hand clothing stores. This involved a two hundred and fifty-kilometer journey outside the old town. They weren't expected back until evening.

The second-hand clothing stores are part of a chain located throughout the province. Apparently, they sell name-brand clothing imported from the United States. The clothing, I'm told, is either used or remaindered from manufacturers. The prices, as Mrs. Wonders describes it, are "a real bargoon."

Taking a lengthy trip to visit these stores is a popular annual activity for groups of women from the old town. The stores are located mostly in small towns and hamlets. A lengthy stop for lunch and then dinner on the way home are also key items on the itinerary. Weed calls this "social consumerism."

He could be right about this.

***
Oscar says he has a good idea why so many of the old town's women take these annual shopping trips. He says they're actually going out for amorous adventures with other men. On their way home, the women simply stop and do some shopping before returning to their partners for another year.

"It's not a shopping trip," he said simply, "it's a perversion excursion.

I remain doubtful about this.

***
On Friday morning, I encountered Weed as he returned from the local coffee cathedral. He was sipping noisily on his first iced cappuccino of the day.

We stood on the Wonders' driveway and talked of nothing in particular. That's when Oscar motored into the Sack. There was a noticeable spring in his step as he left his car and walked toward us.

After catching up on miscellaneous Sack business, Oscar noted that we were similarly unencumbered of any marital responsibilities. Even Weed's little tyke, Baby Doug, was gone for the day. He was staying with his paternal grandparents until the next day.

A matinee movie, dinner and a stroll through the old town's bar district were quickly negotiated.

***
Although it was barely past eleven in the morning, Oscar said he had already finished his work for the day. He said he got up extra early to make sure he got everything done. Apparently, he was "out the door" at the ungodly hour of half past eight.

Oscar said he had to take his boss to the airport for a flight back to Toronto. Thankfully, he said this was the only thing on his agenda for the day.

"My work week," he said emphatically," is now officially over."

***
Recently, Oscar's idyllic employment situation was shattered by the appointment of a new boss. For the first time in several years, someone was keenly interested in his activities.

Oscar, of course, works for a company based in Toronto. He's their only representative in the Maritimes. General disinterest on the company's part has allowed him to earn a generous salary while barely lifting a finger.

According to Oscar, his new boss arrived at the company with a reputation as a bonafide businessman. Apparently, the man's head was filled with such notions as market share, profit margins and sales quotas. Oscar was deeply concerned the appointment would turn his greatest fear into reality.

"I think this guy is going to expect me to work for a living," he told me a few weeks ago.

***
On Tuesday night, Oscar went to the airport to meet Gerald, his new boss. Gerald was going to spend a few days accompanying Oscar to meet with some of their customers. Before leaving on Friday morning, he would give Oscar a full evaluation of his performance and review his sales targets for the balance of the fiscal year.

"I don't know if I can work with a Gerald," Oscar said with a smirk. He said any self-respecting Gerald would surely be known as Gerry.

He also said Gerald sounded like a dink on the telephone.

***
While Oscar is prone to the energetic pursuit of idle leisure, he's also a man of some wit and intelligence. Prior to Gerald's arrival, he developed a two-pronged, strategic plan to put himself in the man's good graces.

The ultimate goal was to ensure that Gerald wouldn't discover that he spends the majority of his work week in a bathrobe.

The first prong of the strategic plan involved some preparation on Oscar's part. He paid a visit to his customers and advised them of Gerald's impending visit. In a diplomatic fashion, they were asked to make it clear to Gerald that Oscar was the greatest thing since sliced bread.

The second part of the plan also involved considerable effort. Oscar intended to show Gerald a good time in the old town. This, he pointed out, had always been a successful strategy whenever Toronto management-types have come nosing around his territory.

***
When he met Gerald at the airport, Oscar was immediately dismayed. Gerald was a short, stocky fellow in a dark pin-striped suit. He wore a Bluetooth earpiece and was talking away to an invisible listener. Oscar had to wait for the man to finish the conversation before they actually exchanged greetings and shook hands.

His first impression was that Gerald wouldn't have the slightest interest in having a good time in the old town.

Since it was late in the evening, Oscar simply dropped Gerald off at his hotel in the downtown quarter. Gerald declined his invitation to go for a few drinks. He said he had some paper work to do before he turned in for the night.

Oscar said Gerald took two other phone calls on the way to the hotel. Even though the work day was over, both calls were business-related.

By the time he got back to the Sack, Oscar said he was wondering if his company would give him a decent termination package after Gerald's visit.

***
The next day, however, his spirits began to rise.

The two men paid visits to five different customers. Each customer was effusive in their reports on Oscar's attention to their needs. Two of the customers actually said Oscar was the greatest thing since sliced bread.

Worried that Gerald would become aware of his pre-trip visit to the customers, Oscar said he had to use the same phrase several times himself. He was hoping Gerald would think this was a particularly popular local phrase.

After maintaining a steady pace throughout the day, Oscar was surprised when Gerald accepted his invitation for a restaurant dinner and a few drinks in the downtown quarter. They went to one of the finer seafood restaurants in the old town so Gerald could indulge in his apparent taste for good lobster.

That's when Oscar discovered that Gerald had a weakness for the drink.

***
By the time dinner was over, Oscar said Gerald had turned into a completely different person. If they had planned to attend a hockey game, Oscar said Gerald surely would've insisted on painting his face in the home team's colours first.

Rambunctious, according to Oscar, was the best word to describe Gerald's new demeanour.

After visiting a few popular nightspots, Oscar took Gerald to an establishment known as place for meeting members of the opposite sex. Apparently, Gerald was a single man. With drink-induced excitement, he told Oscar he wouldn't mind "checkin' out the ladies."

Oscar said Gerald exaggerated his pronunciation of the word 'ladies.' He said Gerald made it sound like "laaaaaaydees."

At this particular establishment, it didn't take long for Gerald to have a very good time indeed. Before the night was over, he became enthralled with a woman of similar stature to his own. It turned out she was also a serious businesswoman in the same mold as himself. Oscar said the woman had red hair and very large breasts.

When the night came to a conclusion, Gerald shook Oscar's hand with great affection. As far as he was concerned, he exclaimed, Oscar was the greatest thing since sliced bread. Then he left with the large-breasted, red-haired woman. Apparently, she spent the night at his hotel.

Oscar said the woman's name was Geraldine. I remain very doubtful about this.

***
On Thursday morning, they were supposed to visit more customers. But Gerald called and postponed the visit until the afternoon. They managed to visit only two more customers before the day was done. Once again, a customer told Gerald that Oscar was the greatest thing since sliced bread.

"You got that right," replied Gerald.

The work day ended with another warm handshake and more praise from Gerald. Oscar asked him out for dinner again, but Gerald politely declined. Apparently, he had plans to spend another evening with the large-breasted, red-haired businesswoman.

"She's the greatest thing since sliced bread," he explained happily.

***
When Oscar took Gerald to the airport on Friday morning, he received a full evaluation of his efforts on behalf of the company. According to Gerald, the company needed more employees just like him. He simply told Oscar to keep doing what he was doing. Oscar said he would be sure to do just that.

"I might even be employee of the month," he told Weed and your agent.

The only downside of the affair, from Oscar's perspective, was Gerald's new love. He hoped the woman's presence in the old town wouldn't result in more frequent visits from the man. Thankfully, Gerald explained that the woman was already planning a trip to visit him in Toronto.

"For the moment," Oscar said, with some relief in his voice, "it looks like it's going to be business as usual."

***
With Oscar's work life returned to a state of equilibrium, we rode into the downtown quarter by taxi. Oscar paid the fare and said he would include it as part of his expenses from Gerald's visit. Weed and your agent thought this was a very good idea.

Our first stop was the downtown cineplex. We were planning to see The Simpsons Movie. Unfortunately, the place was a sea of youthful humanity. Harry Potter fanatics and teenaged Simpsons aficionados abounded. The lineup to purchase tickets was daunting. By the time we neared the cashier, The Simpsons Movie was sold out.

After intense negotiations, it was agreed that we would see Sicko instead. It was the second last day of its run in the old town, so was actually fortuitous that The Simpsons Movie was sold out. Weed, however, was somewhat reluctant about the new choice, until Oscar explained that Sicko was about a crazed, mass-murdering slasher.

Weed, of course, knew this wasn't true, but said he admired Oscar's pathetic sense of humour.

***
We were a few minutes late as we entered the theatre. The previews of coming attractions were already underway. Oscar immediately complained about the volume of the soundtrack. Weed said he was going to have a seizure because of the intense flashing of fiery action scenes. Your agent, meanwhile, munched on a box of Smarties. I only eat Smarties when I go to a movie theatre. It's just something I do.

As Sicko began to explore the benefits of Canada's universal healthcare system, Oscar became almost overcome by emotion.

"That Tommy Douglas should be made a saint, man," he whispered in the darkness.

"But the guy was a Baptist minister," I replied with a hushed tone.

"Doesn't matter." Oscar replied. "The guy's still a saint."

Weed poked his head over and hissed: "He was Kiefer Sutherland's grandfather, you know."

"Then Kiefer Sutherland's granddad is a saint," said Oscar.

***
Weed started to fidget as the casualties of profit-oriented American healthcare system began to mount. He said it was really killing his buzz. His attention was renewed, however, as the wondrous French system was presented.

"We suck," he said curtly. "France has a kick-ass healthcare system."

Oscar nodded his agreement. "Tommy Doug just lost his sainthood," he replied. "The man didn't go far enough."

Weed's silhouette nodded in the darkness. "I never liked Kiefer Sutherland very much anyway," he snorted.

***
Following the movie, we emerged into the daylight of the downtown quarter. We strolled about for a time and then sought out a restaurant for dinner. Then we retired to a relatively quiet bar and played a trivia game broadcast through a network of establishments throughout North America.

Oscar and Weed tend to be very competitive. They argued frequently over some of the trivia answers. In the end, however, your agent quietly came from behind and won the match.

I know a little about a lot of things. Unfortunately, this isn't a particularly profitable life skill.

***
As the evening drew to a close, we bought some pizza slices and sat on a stone wall near a busy area of the downtown quarter. We watched the antics of the Friday night revellers and munched on our pizza slices.

Suddenly, Oscar drew his head back as if to avoid being seen. He was almost crouched behind Weed as a hand-holding couple strode past us.

When the couple were out of earshot, Oscar exclaimed, "That was Geraldine!"

We watched in silence as the couple stopped and began kissing with great passion. As previously advertised, Geraldine had red hair and very large breasts. Although Gerald had flown back to Toronto earlier in the day, Oscar still found it necessary to say the man with Geraldine was someone different.

"Boy, Gerald's heart would break if he saw this," Oscar declared.

"I guess so," your agent replied.

Weed nodded and said it was a great shame. Finally, he said there was probably a bright side for Gerald.

"At least our healthcare system will fix his heart for free."

***

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