Until now, I didn't know this.
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When I was a child, an ice cream truck would make occasional visits to our neighbourhood. The ‘ice cream man’, as he was popularly known, would ring a large bell to alert everyone of his presence. Kids would react as if they had just seen Superman flying overhead. Then we'd sprint for home to plead for money.
In The Sack, the peelers are the adult equivalent of the ice cream man. When they have business here, everyone is captivated.
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Of course, the peelers don’t come to The Sack very often.
But when they do, residents will stand in their front windows like prairie dogs sniffing the wind. Some will even have cordless phones to their ears, providing a running commentary for those with a poor vantage point.
On a positive note, peeler visits contribute to the improved appearance of The Sack. If they come during the day, an inordinate number of residents will engage in some form of outdoor home maintenance. During the winter, snow will suddenly require shoveling. Both activities offer a close-up view of the peeler visit.
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Gordon is a very serious man who lives in The Sack. He is very good at complaining about almost everything.
According to Oscar, the speed dial function on Gordon’s phone is devoted entirely to targets of his complaints. This includes, but is not limited to, the local city councillor, the member of the provincial legislature, waste and snow removal services, parking enforcement and, quite likely, the Prime Minister of Canada.
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At the first hint of something untoward in The Sack, Gordon will be seen standing solemnly at his front window. In the evening, his silhouette is like a lonely sentry standing guard over the street.
Both Oscar and I agree that it must be very hard to be Gordon.
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Gordon recently had cause to summon the peelers to his home.
His security alarm sounded one morning at about 1:00 a.m. The source of the alarm came from his patio doors. Peering through the glass, Gordon was shocked to discover four young thugs standing menacingly on his back deck. According to Gordon, the invaders were clad in “puffy jackets.”
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The peelers arrived with great haste. Wielding flashlights, four officers proceeded to the back of Gordon’s home.
Despite the hour, half of The Sack was already aware of the unfolding drama. A correspondent had already called Gordon and the story quickly filtered through the street.
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Agonizing minutes passed before the officers returned to the front of the house. Surprisingly, they spoke only briefly to Gordon, before driving away without any suspects in custody. Gordon did not answer his phone to give The Sack an update on the affair.
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The next day, it was learned that Gordon’s observational skills were something less than admirable.
Not only were his invaders not wearing puffy jackets, but they were curiously lacking in any human characteristics at all. Upon investigation the peelers had discovered four large raccoons lounging on Gordon’s deck.
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The raccoons apparently fled the scene when accosted by the peelers. In their wisdom, the peelers declined to pursue the critters.
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Wasting the peelers' time was hardly a concern for Gordon. Instead, he complained about the increasing encroachment of wild animals on human territory. Someone, he felt, needed to do something about this.
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Oscar claims that Gordon even wrote a letter to the editor of the local paper to complain about the “raccoon problem.” I read the paper every day, but I didn’t see it.
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A few years ago, the Wonders’ home was also the scene of a peelers visit. Fortunately, we were not the focus of their attention.
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Upon returning from our weekly grocery run, late on a Saturday morning, we motored into the pleasantness of The Sack. We had nothing more on our minds than a nutritious luncheon.
As we neared the house, Mrs. Wonders poked me sharply in the ribs and pointed with a shaking finger.
Parked in our driveway was a peeler car. Its roof light was flashing with great urgency. Beyond the driveway, an old and battered maroon-coloured car sat on the grass leading to our backyard.
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Sitting on our porch were two nefarious-looking characters. One of them had the audacity to sit on of one the Muskoka chairs. Anyone in their right mind would know that this location is reserved for guests on the show hosted by Oscar and myself.
Standing over the thugs were two peelers, both with notebooks in hand.
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Here is what preceded this scene: A low-speed chase of the distressed vehicle had begun several kilometres away. Looking for a quick turn to escalate their escape, the scoundrels entered The Sack.
Unfortunately, the suspects soon found themselves in the “cul” of the “sac”. They told the peelers they were unaware of being pursued. In fact, they were simply coming to visit a “good friend” at our address. The police, of course, were skeptical, wondering why it was necessary to park on the grass, instead of the driveway.
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Once Mrs. Wonders and I confirmed that the thugs were not among our existing group of social contacts, the matter was quickly resolved. Inexplicably, the peelers allowed the men to leave. The car, unregistered and uninsured, was required to stay until a tow truck could take it away.
After a peeler search of the car, the ne’r-do-wells were permitted to retrieve some personal items. Before doing so, they smiled politely at Mrs. Wonders and me. One of them even nodded and uttered a pleasant, “How ya doin’, eh?”
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Reaching into the car, one of the thugs pulled out a few pieces of clothing and passed one to his friend.
They smiled and nodded at us again and then walked jauntily down the street, each with a puffy jacket slung over his shoulder
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