That was young Doo's alibi when accused of throwing a snowball at Elizabeth's car on Monday night. He believed that the absence of gloves on his hands would surely exonerate him. Of course, everyone knows that a bare hand is much better for throwing snowballs. One's accuracy is significantly improved without "glubs."
In the end, however, Doo was found guilty of the crime. And the finding had nothing to do with his "no gloves" defence. Doo was sent to the penalty box based on the testimony of an eyewitness. Apparently, Tremayne's older brother, Jimbo saw Doo fire the snowball at Elizabeth's car as she pulled into her driveway. It landed on her back window with a sharp thud. Elizabeth testified that it "startled the living Jesus" out of her.
Doo's punishment was to stammer a personal apology at Elizabeth's front door. It also involved standing through a lengthy lecture from his victim. This included a healthy dose of finger-wagging, as well.
Seven-year-old Doo is now on probation and, according to his mom, is barred from throwing snowballs until his twenty-first birthday.
Big Doug, of course, is a man who takes snow shoveling very seriously. When lawn maintenance season comes to its inevitable end, he begins earnest preparations for the next snow removal campaign. This is also when he unleashes his impressive array of professional-caliber snow shovels.
Like the rest of his household tools, Big Doug’s shovels enjoy a great deal of care and maintenance. Some would even say they are lovingly cared for. In fact, it’s true that Big Doug even has names for some of his shovels. His most favoured is Betsy Junior.
Betsy Junior is Big Doug’s smallest shovel. One might consider it as more of a specialty shovel. He uses it only for the finer points of snow removal. This would include the clearing of stairs and other smaller areas. He also uses it to evenly trim the walls of the snow banks around his driveway.
Weed says Betsy is a very archaic name. He says it falls into the same category as names like Agnes or Olive. These days, he adds, it's increasingly difficult to run into someone with such names. Instead, Weed says we have a deluge of people with handles like Britney or Ashley.
“Now,” he said evenly, “the only Betsy I know is a shovel.”
By the time he’s done, almost all traces of precipitation have been removed from his driveway and front walk. Sometimes, it seems like snow had never existed on these areas in the first place.
Oscar says Big Doug actually uses a level to ensure that his snow banks are balanced and even. I remain doubtful about this.
***
One might have the distinct impression that Big Doug is someone who enjoys snow shoveling. Interestingly, nothing could be further from the truth.
If dead chickens fell from the sky instead of snow, Big Doug would still have the Sack's cleanest driveway and front walk. He would also have the neatest pile of dead chickens.
Whether faced with snow or dead chickens, Big Doug's actual motivation comes from a place of duty and obligation. Whenever something falls from the sky and accumulates on one's property, a man has a deep and unyielding responsibility to remove it in a prompt, neat and devoted manner. At least that's how Big Doug sees it.
Oscar says there is something almost religious about Big Doug's position on snow removal. He says the white stuff is almost like Big Doug's "cross to bear" in life. He could be right about this.
***
Shoveling snow, therefore, is an important winter activity for Big Doug. He must engage in it regularly to fulfill his sense of duty and obligation. Such toil is also another way for him to operationalize his strong work ethic.
As the brisk days of November descend on the old town, Big Doug's appetite for snow removal is usually rewarded. In a good year, his itch will sometimes be scratched as early as October.
But now the shadow of climate change is upon us. This year, October passed without any early snowfalls. And November, with all its promise, came and went without even a rumour of snow.
***
The closest thing to snow in the Sack during November was a small gust of white styrofoam bits.
The old town's waste management professionals were disposing of Oscar's garbage bin on a windy day. The styrofoam bits blew back from the bin as they tried to dispose of its contents into their truck. A week after garbage day, the styrofoam bits could still be found littered around the Sack.
The styrofoam was part of the packaging from Oscar's recently-acquired black fedora. That's a tale for another day.
***
So November's end saw Big Doug's shovels remain idle.
With each passing day without snow, Big Doug's demeanour seemed to grow darker. He prowled around his yard like a restless lion. A permanent scowl seemed to be etched upon his face. The only time his expression changed was when he looked up to the sky. Then a wistful look spread across it.
The first weekend of December arrived. Many Sack residents used this time to put up their Christmas lights. Spirits in the Sack were soaring. There was a strong sense of community as people joked and laughed about each others' creations.
But Big Doug remained sullen.
***
By Sunday night, Big Doug's snow constipation had reached its zenith. He was busting to break out Betsy Junior and her mates. Sack observers were expecting him to implode, if winter precipitation continued to be illusive.
On Monday, December 4, the old town's weather prognosticator called for the season's first snowfall. Unfortunately, it was expected to be only a trace amount. The "weather dude," as Weed described him, assured everyone that shovels would not be required.
For Big Doug, there would still be no joy in Snowville.
***
Some people would say it was divine intervention. Others would say a deal with the devil (or at least, Rental Doug) had been struck. But Big Doug's snow constipation was cured with a flourish.
Early on Monday afternoon, the snow began to fall. It continued unabated until about eight o'clock in the evening. The snow flakes were large and heavy. Oscar said he had never seen such unnaturally large snow flakes. He called them snow chunks, instead of flakes.
Many people in the old town were caught off guard by this ferocious blast of winter. Traffic was paralyzed and snow plows were nowhere to be seen. Cars were abandoned on many of the main roads. In some areas, the power went out, plunging some streets into darkness.
On average, it took people more than three hours to get home from work.
***
Sack residents did not fare well in the storm.
To reach the Sack from the downtown quarter, one must travel up a steep hill. There are other ways to get there, of course, but the hill is the most direct route. And on this particular evening, the other routes were jammed. But if the hill hasn't been plowed or received a dusting of sand, it's almost impossible to navigate. Even the bus service is discontinued in these circumstances.
Eventually, some Sack residents began to accumulate at the bottom of the hill. Everyone had already been travelling for several hours. But no one, it seemed, could make it up the hill. The side of the road began to resemble a parking lot, as people prepared to abandon their cars and walk the rest of the way home.
That's when Little Doug appeared in his pick-up truck.
***
Oscar, Ben, Gordon and Weed were among a group of Sack residents stuck at the bottom of the hill. Eventually, your agent, Mrs. Wonders and Florence joined the group, too. Everyone had tried to scale the hill in their own vehicle without success.
Little Doug's truck was equipped with brand-new snow tires. If everyone piled into the back of the truck, Oscar said the extra weight would surely allow Little Doug's vehicle to carry everyone home. Little Doug seemed skeptical at first, but reluctantly agreed to give it a try.
Mrs. Wonders and Florence sat in the warmth of the cab with Little Doug, while the rest climbed into the box of the truck. Oscar said he should probably sit in the front, as well, to "balance out the weight." But he backed off on the idea when Ben threatened to wash his face with a handful of snow chunks.
The powerful truck began to scale the slippery slope.
***
The road leading up the hill is a winding one. One must scale three steep segments of the hill, before reaching the crest. From there, the rest of the journey to the Sack would be smooth sailing.
With Little Doug at the wheel, the truck laboured through the first segment. This was further than anyone's car had ventured, so far. The mood in the back of the truck was optimistic.
The second segment of the journey loomed. Little Doug's truck attacked the incline with gusto. When it reached about two-thirds of the way up, it began to lose momentum. The tires started to whine as they spun in the slippery snow. The smell of burning rubber was suddenly in the air.
Little Doug allowed the truck to roll back down the second part of the slope for a little bit. He wanted to take another run at it. This time the truck advanced further up the hill. But, once again, it reached an invisible point of no return. Hopefulness was starting to erode.
***
A third try was undertaken. Miraculously, the truck reached another slippery point near the top of the second steep segment, but this time suddenly shot over the crest of the hill, as if propelled by a catapult.
Now the third and final segment of the hill loomed ahead. Beyond this point was the warmth of our Sack homes. Unfortunately, this was also the steepest part of the hill.
Little Doug made three valiant attempts to scale the third segment of the hill. Each attempt reinforced the futile nature of the whole endeavour. Finally, the vehicle came to a stop and a brief conference was held.
There were two choices facing us. We could abandon Little Doug's truck and walk the rest of the way home or we could try pushing the truck up the steep hill. Most people seemed in favour of walking the rest of the way home. Once past the third hill, the rest of the journey is on relatively even ground. It would only take about fifteen minutes to reach the Sack, despite the accumulation of snow on the ground.
But Oscar was adamant that we should try pushing the truck, at least once. "Quitters," he said philosophically, "never prosper."
"Don't you mean cheaters never prosper?" asked Florence.
"Yeah, I guess so," Oscar replied hesitantly. Then he said more confidently, "But, we'd be cheating ourselves if we quit too soon."
***
So everyone, with the exception of Little Doug, began to assemble at the back of the truck. An attempt would be made to push the vehicle over the final crest.
With six people pushing, the truck advanced further up the hill. After two attempts, it moved agonizingly close to the top. But it wouldn't travel those final six feet to freedom. A third and final attempt was agreed upon. But almost everyone knew it would be unsuccessful, unless a little bit more muscle was available.
That's when Jeff Christ suddenly appeared.
***
Jeff Christ had walked home from his job at Canadian Tire. The store had closed on account of the power failure. Normally, he would take the bus up the hill, but, of course, it wasn't running today.
While Jeff is rather slight in stature, his pushing power seemed to make a big difference. Little Doug's truck easily scaled the final distance to the top of the hill. Everyone, including Jeff Christ, piled triumphantly into the back of the truck for the rest of the journey home.
As Little Doug navigated toward the Sack, an exuberant Oscar began singing Onward Christian Soldiers in the back of the truck. He wanted everyone, including a puzzled Jeff Christ to join in. Oscar was halfway through the first stanza, when Ben hit him with a dollop of snow.
The snow chunks hit him, as Weed described it later, "right in the kisser."
***
Little Doug easily maneuvered the truck into the Sack and, despite the accumulation of snow, powered into his driveway.
The Sack, of course, was a mess. The street remained unplowed. Those who were fortune to be at home when the storm began, or were able to reach home early, had remained indoors. With only one exception, no one had attempted to do any shoveling.
The exception, of course, was Big Doug. He was still putting the finishing touches on his front walk and porch stairs. Clutched in his expert hands was Betsy Junior.
Big Doug's driveway was completely cleared. He had created two smooth snow banks on either side. In the darkness of the street, the sides of the snow banks looked like they were made from small sheets of drywall board.
***
When Big Doug is shoveling, there is very little that can interrupt his work. But now that weeks of snow constipation had been undone by a ferocious blast of winter, Big Doug's mood was positively jovial. He seemed almost light on his feet as he danced over to the crowd of Sack residents as they disembarked from Little Doug's truck.
He greeted everyone by name and asked about their welfare. Not once did he utter the word "arsehole." By a series of coincidences, he said he had arrived home in the early afternoon, just before the storm began to rage. He chatted amiably for several minutes, then took leave to resume his shoveling obligations.
Big Doug was definitely back on track.
***
The next morning, Sack residents awoke to a very surprising sight.
During the night, the temperature increased dramatically. By seven o'clock in the morning, it was more than ten degrees (Celsius). Almost all of the snow had melted. Some of it still lingered on lawns and along the side of the street, but everyone's driveway was clear.
As your agent walked down the Wonders' driveway, Big Doug emerged from his house. I flashed him my trademark peace sign wave, but he only nodded his head solemnly. Normally, he would wave one of his hefty paws in my direction. As he walked down his front steps, Big Doug gazed around at his property with an expressionless look on his face.
As he drove past the Wonders' driveway, I tried to get a sense of his demeanour. It was clear that he wasn't happy about the melted snow, but there was something else there, too.
Constipation was the only word that came to mind.
***
4 comments:
There's something not right about that man. He doesn't like the snow, but longs to remove it if it's not there.
Oh, by the way: You all DO know another Betsy. Because Betsy is a nickname.
It's an old one, so it doesn't make much sense--sort of like Ted for Edward, or Peggy for Margaret.
Betsy is a nickname for Elizabeth.
yeharr
Yup, I knew that Betsy/Betty came from Elizabeth - but it didn't dawn on me until you mentioned it. As for Big Doug, his relationship with snow is kind of like self-flagellation. . . .
Thanks for the chuckle Mr. Wonders it was badly needed
You're very welcome, DLH! Chuckles are good.
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