Cheesed Off

Tonight, I rolled the compost bin down to the curb. Collection takes place tomorrow morning.

While I'm at the curb, Oscar and his wife, B.W. drive into the Sack. Oscar lingers at his car door until B.W. has gone into the house. Then he heads over in my direction.

He tells me that he and B.W. have been out shopping for a new ceiling fan for their kitchen. His boy, Dorian broke their old one several months ago. Apparently there was a hockey stick involved.

Oscar says they went looking for a new one at Home Depot, Walmart and Canadian Tire. But they couldn't find anything that B.W. liked. They even went to two entirely different Walmart and Canadian Tire locations. But B.W. still couldn't find what she wanted.

Oscar said he would've picked one from the first place they went, if he was making the purchase on his own. Apparently, B.W. said she wasn't surprised to hear this.

In the end, Oscar grew very tired of shopping for a new ceiling fan with B.W. He told her he would rather sell their existing home for one that contained a new ceiling fan, if it meant that he didn't have to go shopping for a new ceiling fan anymore.

B.W. says she just might take him up on the offer.

***

"Frickin' dick dog."

That's what Dora called Big Doug this week during the latest confrontation between her and various Sack residents. During the last two weeks, a real tempest has begun to brew. Some Sack people have been doing what they say they should've done before: Call the peelers or the old town government at every opportunity, if Burning Manor starts any more of its old shenanigans.

As a result, Dora has been getting steady visits from animal control, bylaw enforcement and even police. Not surprisingly, she's not happy about it. And now she's starting to fight back.

****

We'll report more about the new Burning Manor conflict at another time. First we need to talk more about "frickin' dick dog."

Aside from its obvious derogatory intentions, I have no idea what "frickin' dick dog" means. This hasn't stopped me from admiring its originality. I even carried out a Google search to see if anyone hadn't uttered it electronically.

Weed was particularly enthralled by "frickin' dick dog." He says he's been using it as his silent oath of choice ever since he heard Big Doug mention it. He said he even used it on Little Doug the other day. Apparently, Little Doug was complaining about some groceries Weed had purchased.

Of course, he didn't call Little Doug a "frickin' dick dog" out loud. He just said it in his mind.

***

Speaking of Little Doug, he has been a grandfather now for about two weeks. So far, he says things are going fairly well.

In fact, his only complaint is with the upset in his usual routine since his grandson's arrival. The new grocery arrangements, in particular, are an area of concern.

***

Daisy used to look after the groceries before the baby arrived. Sometimes Weed or Little Doug would go with her, but it was Daisy who decided what to buy. Now that Baby Doug is here, Weed has assumed this responsibility. This is where Little Doug's problem begins.

His chief complaint concerns Weed's apparent ability to discern quality food from "garbage." He pointed to how Weed had handled the purchase of one of his favourite cheese products.

Last weekend, Weed brought home a supply of groceries for the Little Doug household. At some point after this, Little Doug decided to make himself a sandwich. That's when he went looking for the Cheez Whiz.

***

Little Doug was very relieved when he finally found it. Then he was horrified to discover that it wasn't Cheez Whiz at all. Weed had purchased a no-name product of the lowest order. Little Doug called the stuff "knock-off Cheez Whiz."

"No one in his right mind," he said bitterly, "would buy anything other than the real stuff. Do you know what I mean?

It sounds like something a frickin' dick dog would do, I answered. I didn't say this out loud, of course. I just said it in my mind.

***