Britney Bitterman and Little Doug's daughter, Daisy are both pregnant, so the Sack population will increase in 2006. Burning Manor reopens in February, so we can expect new shenanigans as sure as the snow will fly.
Big Doug's lawn will return in the spring as fine as ever. Gordon will wield an iron fist in leading the Sack Resident's Society to nowhere in particular. Sack kids will continue to be . . . well, Sack kids.
Many things, it seems, will be predictable.
That's why it's always interesting to meet new faces in the Sack. Suddenly, things become a little less predictable.
Shenanigans are inevitable.
***
Oscar was bent under the open hood of his car as I strolled into the Sack after a leisurely morning walk. Apparently, his car wouldn't start.
We stood in front of his car staring intently at the engine. After a few moments, Oscar looked at me and asked, "Well, what do you think?"
I scratched the side of my face thoughtfully and tugged at my toque.
"I think," I said calmly, "there is something wrong with your car."
***
Of course, Oscar wasn't expecting me to give a more detailed diagnosis of his car problem. Neither of us has much expertise on such matters. The best one can do in this situation is to call Little Doug for assistance.
That's who Oscar was waiting for when I arrived on the scene.
Oscar said Little Doug would be coming outside as soon as he finished his lunch. Apparently, he was having turducken sandwiches for the third day in a row.
***
As we chatted amiably on Oscar's driveway, the front door of the Bitterman house opened and the illustrious Maxwell, Britney Bitterman's new beau, walked onto the porch. He was wearing a red tracksuit and a red baseball cap. Both bore the distinctive insignia of the Montreal Canadiens.
When he got to the bottom of the front steps, Maxwell took off his cap and drew a cigarette from behind his right ear. He cupped a lighter in his hands and eventually took a long draw from the cigarette. Then he blew a long, satisfying puff of smoke in the air.
Oscar and I gave him a friendly wave from our position next door. Maxwell immediately joined us in front of Oscar's car.
It was our first official introduction to the father of Britney Bitterman's unborn child.
***
Handsome might be a word to describe Maxwell, if not for a badly chipped front tooth and the absence of a few others. He has a tall, lanky frame and moves in a slow, languid fashion. His hair is dark and closely shorn, and his face was unshaven in the manner of someone who pays only occasional attention to such things.
Maxwell bent over Oscar's engine and fiddled with a few hoses and wires. Two of the fingers on his right hand were badly stained with nicotine.
With the cigarette clenched in his teeth, he continued to inspect Oscar's engine with an air of confidence and determination. He poked around at the carburetor for a moment and then nodded to himself.
"Try it, now," he said.
Oscar got in the car and turned the key. Nothing happened. Maxwell continued to tinker with the engine.
"Try it, now," he said again.
Oscar tried to start the car again. Nothing happened.
"If I were you," Maxwell said, as Oscar got out of the car, "I'd take her to a mechanic."
***
Maxwell explained that he was very adept at fixing cars until the Japanese came along and messed everything up. They made their engines so complicated, he said, you almost always have to pay to get them fixed. This is why; he said with authority, he would only buy an American car.
Oscar asked him what kind of car he owned. Maxwell said he didn't have a car at the moment, but a friend of his was going to be selling him a 1993 Cutlass Supreme for a very low price. According to Maxwell, the Cutlass Supreme is in mint condition.
Maxwell claimed he would be getting the car as soon as his insurance settlement came through. He said he slipped in an unmarked puddle of water at one of the old town's two Walmart stores about six months ago. Apparently, he suffered a concussion and was unable to work until very recently.
***
With the concussion behind him, Maxwell said he had recently started his own painting business.
While he only had one job lined up so far, he said his cell phone would be "ringing off the hook" before the winter was over. This is because, he explained, people are aware that he knows what he's doing when he has a paint roller in his hand.
After taking ownership of the Cutlass Supreme, Maxwell says he plans to install a roof rack he acquired recently from his uncle. Apparently, the roof rack is in very good condition, even though his uncle was poised to throw it away. It will be used to carry the fourteen-foot ladder Maxwell plans to borrow from his cousin. His cousin won't be needing the ladder right now, he explained, on account of being in jail for the next eighteen months.
It seems that the Cutlass Supreme will play an integral role in Maxwell's new painting business. Aside from bearing the ladder, the car is also the namesake for the business itself.
Maxwell said his new company will be called Cutless Supreme Painting.
***
I wondered to Maxwell if such a name would be acceptable, given the laws on copyright and trademarks. He said he had no immediate plans to register his business, so this wouldn't be a problem. Besides, he said, once he gets busy enough with the business, he plans on hiring other people to do the actual painting. By that time, he said he would probably have a new truck and would have to change the name of the business.
"Dodge Durango Painting," Oscar said, waving his hands across an imaginary sign. Maxwell thought this was very funny and began to repeat the same thing with every model of truck he could recall.
"I think," Oscar would say later, "our new friend, Maxwell may still be suffering from that concussion."
***
Cutlass Supreme Painting's first customer, according to Maxwell, will be Mr. Bitterman.
Apparently, Mr. Bitterman has engaged him to paint the main floor and kitchen of the Bitterman home. Maxwell said he's going to give Mr. Bitterman a very good deal, since he and Britney are having a baby together and will probably get married.
In fact, Maxwell claimed he got the idea for the business after he and Mr. Bitterman had a discussion about his employment circumstances. After Mr. Bitterman agreed to his terms for the painting job, he said he realized that he could start his own business. This would be far better, he said, than working for "the arseholes" that own painting companies in the old town.
***
As we continued to chat in front of Oscar's car, the front door of the Bitterman home opened again.
This time it was Britney, herself who walked onto the porch. She was wearing a pale green, quilted housecoat and was barefooted. Her long brown hair was a tangled mess. She had her arms folded tightly across her chest as she walked over to the side of the porch closest to Oscar's house.
Ignoring Oscar and me, she looked at Maxwell and croaked, "Can you gimme a few drags on that smoke, hon?"
Maxwell walked over to the porch and passed the remains of his current cigarette up to her. Britney took a few puffs, coughed a few times and then spit a long, looping mass of phlegm into Oscar's yard.
"Thanks, hon," she said, and then disappeared back into the house.
***
Our inaugural conversation with Maxwell ended with the appearance of Little Doug.
Before Maxwell left, he told us he would be happy to paint the interior of our respective houses for a very good price. Oscar said he didn't plan on painting his place until his son, Dorian had moved out. Since Dorian is only twelve, he told Maxwell it would probably be about eighteen more years before this would happen.
Fortunately, Mrs. Wonders and I repainted our home last year. I promised Maxwell I would let him know as soon as we tired of our present colour scheme.
Then Oscar mentioned two people in the Sack who were thinking of repainting. He pointed toward Gordon's house and Elizabeth's house. Maxwell said he would contact them after the holidays and give them estimates. Apparently, his niece is going to design some business cards for Cutlass Supreme Painting, as soon as she gets the cast off her broken arm. It would be more professional to have his business cards ready, he said, when he spoke with Gordon and Elizabeth.
This, we agreed, would be very smart thinking.
***
Little Doug spent some time looking over Oscar's car.
Oscar told him to be very careful not to get any turducken grease on the interior of the car. Little Doug said he would do his best.
Eventually, Little Doug determined that Oscar's car was simply out of gas. The gas gauge had been malfunctioning for some time, but his wife, B.W. said she had bought gas only two days ago. Oscar found out later that she had only put five dollars of gas in the car. That was all the money she had on her at the time.
We drove off together in Little Doug's truck to pick up some gas. On the way to the gas station, Little Doug told us he used to have a car with a malfunctioning gas gauge. It was one in a series of problems he had with the car. It was, he said, a very good day when he got rid of it.
"What kind of car was it?" Oscar asked.
"If I remember correctly," Little Doug answered, "it was a 1993 Cutlass Supreme."
***
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