Doo's the Man

A real estate agent was going door-to-door around the Sack the other day. This happens from time to time.

The agent usually asks about one's interest in selling. It's a cold call of the highest order, but I suppose it pays off on occasion. At the very least, it probably helps the agent learn more about a neighbourhood.

According to Elizabeth, the female agent spoke to Dora on the porch of Burning Manor for some time. It was about six-thirty at night. Elizabeth said Dora was wearing a mauve, terry-towel bathrobe.

When the agent arrived at Elizabeth's house, she was immediately queried about her conversation with Dora. The agent said that Dora was very keen on selling Burning Manor. Unfortunately, however, the house is actually owned by Dirk, who, according to Dora, isn't interested in selling Burning Manor.

Oscar says this is what you call your classic "good news-bad news" scenario.

***

Last Monday was a beautiful day. It was the old town's first really warm day of the summer. While it wasn't overly hot, you could actually feel the heat of the sun on your skin.

People seemed to be having a lazy day around the Sack. It was the last day of the long weekend, so people were easing into a lower gear in anticipation of the work week ahead.

Despite the laziness, I decided to cut the grass. It probably could've waited another week, but I decided to do it anyway. This is because I actually enjoy cutting the grass. I will be very disappointed on the day when I can no longer do it.

I own a reel mower. This is the old-fashioned kind that doesn't have a motor. You have to push the mower to move the grass-cutting blades.

Some people in the Sack have made fun of the Wonders' reel mower. A few have actually laughed at it. Over time, however, the reel mower has gained in popularity. Two Sack residents borrow it regularly. Two others have recently bought their own.

This is the first time in my life that I've been a trendsetter. It will probably be the only time, too.

***

Cutting the grass could be considered as a form of meditation. I can easily drift off into another dimension while I'm pushing the mower around the Wonders' yard. And yet somehow, I always come back to earth when the job is done.

***

On Monday, I cut the grass while listening to my newfangled MP3 player. Bob Marley's Jammin' was playing and I was a million miles away. It's quite possible that I was ambling to the beat, too. A sharp eye would've picked up an almost imperceptible bounce in my lawn-mowing gait.

In the midst of my reverie, I was suddenly accosted by a small, but startling, two-legged shape. Its appearance brought me back from those million miles in mere seconds. It was as if I'd been grabbed roughly by the lapels and shoved back to reality.

To make matters worse, the ferocious little shape made growling noises at me. It seemed to be saying something like, "arrrrggh." It also held up two little hands as if they were claws. That's when I recognized them as the hands of a young boy.

***

The creature was actually young Doo, the Sack's enfant terrible. He was dressed up in what was obviously a brand-new costume. He was supposed to be Spiderman.

The Spiderman outfit was a two-piece affair. It was a padded body suit with a separate piece to cover the head. Doo, however, was only wearing the body suit.

The padding was meant to make the wearer look very muscular. Most of the padding was in the shoulders and arms. The biceps were quite exaggerated. Doo looked like a mini Arnold Schwarzenegger.

I tried very hard to suppress my laughter.

***

Doo is a very big fan of Spiderman.

He seems to own a great many things bearing this image. The super hero is featured prominently on the back of Doo's school knapsack. Even one of his winter toques bears the mark of Spiderman.

I once asked Doo why he likes Spiderman so much. He said Spiderman can beat the crap out of anyone he wants, without getting in trouble. That's not exactly how Doo phrased it, of course, but that was the gist of his message.

Then he started making wild karate kicks at imaginary air people.

***

Back on the lawn, I told Doo he had scared the "living crap" out of me. He seemed very pleased to hear this.

Nevertheless, I said his Spiderman costume was very impressive. I gently squeezed a padded bicep and pulled my hand away in mock pain. I said I had never touched such strong muscles in my life. Doo nodded his approval.

I also asked him where he had acquired such a clever costume. He said his step dad, Sticky had picked it up for him. It was to be worn for Halloween, but Doo decided that it was worth wearing on a regular basis.

As Doo explained this to me, I noticed that his hair was damp with sweat. His face also had a flushed, clammy look.

Doo denied that the costume was warm. I asked him why he wasn't wearing the head piece belonging to the costume. He looked at me very seriously and told me it was far too "itchy" to wear.

***

It was at this point that Doo spun an invisible web and wrapped me up against the lawn mower. I pretended to struggle and call out for help in vain. Doo laughed with pleasure.

When he was finished, he uttered "arrrrggh" again and flexed his padded muscles. Then he moved his hands together as if wiping them after a dirty job. As I stood with my arms wrapped around the mower's handle, Doo strutted back toward the street.

His work was done.

***

The Spiderman assault occurred in the early afternoon.

After supper, Mrs. Wonders and I enjoyed a cup of tea on the front porch. Young Doo and Tremayne were sitting on the ornamental rocks in the Sack's centre circle. Doo had changed back into his civilian clothing. Now he was wearing an oversized, hooded sweatshirt. The Sack, I told Mrs. Wonders, must have been cleansed of nogoodniks.

Mrs. Wonders nodded over at Burning Manor. Dirk was loading empty beer cases into his car.

"It looks like he missed at least one," she said quietly.

***

After tea, Mrs. Wonders began puttering around the garden areas. I went to tidy up some things in the shed. Doo and Tremayne were still in the Sack's centre circle.

About an hour later, I walked around to the front of the house. Mrs. Wonders had finished tending to the plants and had gone inside. I went over to the Wonders' car and rolled up the windows and locked the doors. It was time to call it a day.

Just as I began to walk up the front steps, I heard Doo's voice calling my name.

His voice was coming from the Sack's centre circle, but I couldn't see him right away. Then I spotted him leaning in an odd position against one of the trees. As I moved closer, I realized that he wasn't just leaning against the tree.

Doo was tied to the tree by the arms of his sweatshirt.

***

According to Doo, Tremayne had tied him to the tree. In fact, he said he gave Tremayne permission to do it. Doo just hadn't anticipated that Tremayne would wander off home and forget about him.

Later, Doo would tell me the oversized sweatshirt belonged to his mom. Since the arms of the sweatshirt were so long, it wasn't hard for Tremayne to tie it around the tree trunk.

The words on the front of the dark blue sweatshirt read Foxy Lady.

***

It took a few minutes to untie the sweatshirt from the tree. I was certainly impressed by the series of knots tied by the six-year-old Tremayne.

***

Having freed Doo from the tree, I asked him why Spiderman hadn't been around to save the day when he found himself immobilized.

Doo only mumbled a quick reply to me. The only words I could make out were "itchy" and "hot."

***

Irony comes in two flavours: regular and delicious.

Earlier in the day, Spiderman had bound me to a reel mower with imaginary webbing. And then later on the very same day, I rescued his rope-bound alter-ego from the embrace of a Sack tree.

In my estimation, this could only be the delicious kind of irony.

***

The next day, I told Oscar about my two experiences with Doo. We were sitting on the front steps of the Wonders' house. Both of us were drinking coffee we'd picked up from the local coffee cathedral.

Oscar said my story sounded very amusing. But he strongly disagreed with my comment about the delicious irony of it all.

Delicious irony, he claimed, would require a story with a lot more surprise. He said the irony of my two contacts was, at best, "obscure." In fact, he thought it barely qualified as regular irony.

***

Naturally, a fierce debate ensued.

Irony, I argued, can be delicious because it's obscure. Oscar, of course, would have none of this.

In the end, we agreed that whoever walked or drove past the Wonders' porch next, would be asked to cast a deciding vote in the matter.

This is the kind of thing grown men do when they live in a cul-de-sac.

***

We looked down toward the Sack's entrance for the arrival of the next car. There wasn't anyone on the street that we could see.

Within mere seconds, Weed's car turned into the Sack.

I was disappointed to see his car. If there was one person I didn't want as a tiebreaker, it was Weed. Given the choice between regular and delicious irony, he would definitely choose the regular kind.

Weed is well known for his preference for regular things. Whenever he has the option between regular and something different, he claims he will always opt for regular. Keeping things regular, he explains, makes life simpler. He says you don't have to hold as many things in your head this way.

When Weed tells people he's just a regular kind of guy, he really means it.

***

But Weed wasn't the first person to cross our path. So he didn't get to cast the deciding vote.

Before he could reach us, young Doo went flying past from the other direction on his bicycle. Neither of us had been aware of his presence.

Oscar called him over to the porch and asked in an innocent, friendly tone, "What kind of irony was it yesterday, regular or delicious?"

Doo looked a bit confused, but still bore a mischievous smile. He knew there was some kidding going on, but didn't know where he stood in the order of things. He made a great show of looking upwards as if lost in thought. Then he rubbed an index finger on his top lip.

Finally, he rubbed his stomach with a circle motion and said in his best Doospeak, "I like dee-wish-us."

***