Artistic Merit

There is a plastic bag lying on the pavement near the Sack's centre circle. It has been there for several days now. The plastic bag is filled with dog poop.

A responsible dog-owner had clearly made an effort to clean up after his dog. But something must've gone awry after that. It could be that the bag was inadvertently dropped by the old town's waste management professionals.

But that's only a guess on my part.

More than a few cars have driven over the bag during the last few days. It's now flattened and partially broken. That's how I know it's filled with dog poop.

I could, of course, dispose of the dog poop myself. I've done this on a number of other occasions when unclaimed refuse has appeared in the street. But now, I'm resolved not to interfere in the matter. I think I've done more than my share of unclaimed garbage removal. Besides, your agent and Mrs. Wonders don't even have a dog.

My heels are dug in on this one, man.

***

Ben and Norma are planning to buy new lawn furniture this year.

Normally, your agent wouldn't report such an arcane piece of suburban fluff. But in this case, something brought the matter to a larger light.

On Wednesday, Ben placed their old lawn furniture at the curb. This consisted of eight chairs of various sizes and several tables. A complete set of cushions was still attached to the chairs. The furniture was tan-coloured and was made of a hard plastic resin. The cushions were covered with a faded fabric that displayed a bizarre montage of red and yellow roses.

It was no surprise that Ben and Norma would wish to purchase a new set of lawn furniture. Their old lot was decidedly tattered and unattractive. At least, that's what Gordon had to say about the matter. He said if it was up to him, he would only discard it under cover of darkness.

Unfortunately, none of the discarded furniture could be folded or stacked. As a result, Ben had to carefully construct an organized pile at the bottom of his driveway. He spent about twenty minutes on the task. When he was finished, a six-foot tall mountain of lawn furniture sat majestically at the curb.

Ben's creation was an intricately-woven cone of tangled plastic and cushioned fabric. There was something wild and untamed about it, yet it possessed a thin veneer of organization at the same time.

Without knowing it, Ben had constructed a masterpiece of suburban street art.

***

For two days, Sack residents were mesmerized by Ben's artistry. Cars would slow down to inspect the mountain of lawn furniture. The occupants would still look back at it, well after their cars had passed.

Oscar was most impressed by Ben's creation. He called it a stunning, symbolic representation of rampant consumerism and suburban decay. He thought it should have remained permanently at the foot of Ben's driveway.

Sack kids, on the other hand, didn't know what to make of the monstrosity. Several of them approached it with mayhem on their minds. But in the end, they gaped at it for a few moments and then slowly wandered away. Oscar said he saw a few cats do the same thing.

Young Doo took a great interest in the matter. He stood in front of the pyramid of lawn furniture for several minutes, considering his options. Doo, of course, is quite fond of smashing things. He was clearly thinking about how to best topple the structure with maximum effect.

Finally, he moved forward and grasped an extended chair leg near the bottom of the pile. He was just about to give it a forceful yank, when Ben appeared at the front door.

"What do you think you're doing, young man?" he called out with mock gruffness.

"Nuttin'," said Doo quickly.

Ben started down the front steps to continue the conversation. Doo, however, had no interest in any further interrogation. He quickly ran across the street and then disappeared into his own backyard.

Ben shook his head with a smile and then returned to his home.

***

Sadly, even the best street art can't last forever. Ben's lawn furniture creation survived until the old town's waste management professionals arrived on Friday.

Maxwell, Britney Bitterman's beau, is now a full-fledged member of the waste management profession. He works on the same crew that gathers the Sack's garbage every week. Almost a month has passed since he began this gainful employment. Oscar says this is the longest period that Maxwell has ever held the same job.

On this particular Friday, it was Maxwell's responsibility to dismantle the lawn furniture, when the old town's waste management professionals cruised into the Sack. Oscar said it was appropriate that Maxwell would be the one to dismantle Ben's work of art.

"It's funny that the person with the least amount of taste would be the one to take apart a great work of art," he said thoughtfully.

***

Oscar watched the matter unfold from his porch last Friday afternoon. He was waiting for a taxi to take him into the centre of the old town. Apparently, he had taken a sudden hankering for a grilled hot dog from one of the old town's outdoor vendors. Oscar said he would've driven his own car, but he had misplaced his keys.

According to Oscar, Maxwell circled Ben's conical mass of used lawn furniture several times before he took any action. Then he began to remove the first piece with considerable care.

Maxwell continued to remove one piece of furniture at a time, placing the entire set in the area of the truck reserved for larger items. Oscar said he was taking his sweet time in completing the task. Maxwell's cousin, Doug, the crew leader of the waste management brigade, even yelled at him to hasten his effort.

Eventually, the task was completed and Maxwell and the rest of the waste management professionals motored out of the Sack. Ben's grand piece of street art was only a memory.

Oscar says the Sack seems almost empty without it.

***

On Sunday afternoon, Oscar, Weed and your agent convened at the local coffee cathedral. This has become a semi-regular tradition.

After relating Maxwell's role in the removal of Ben's street art, Oscar told us more about his recent discussion with Mr. Bitterman, Maxwell's de facto father-in-law. Apparently, a new layer of conflict has erupted in the Bitterman family's fractious relationship with Britney's illustrious partner.

Mr. Bitterman, according to Oscar, has now formally banned Maxwell from crossing the threshold of the Bitterman residence. He's welcome, of course, to come to the door, but he's forbidden from going any further. Mr. Bitterman said this was the one concession he was prepared to make for the father of his grandson.

The reason for Mr. Bitterman's ire was a very simple matter. Maxwell had finally proven something that Mr. Bitterman had long suspected.

"Beyond a shadow of a doubt," he told Oscar, "the guy isn't right in the head."

***

Upon learning of Maxwell's new gig with the old town's waste management professionals, Mr. Bitterman remained unconvinced that Maxwell was truly taking a step toward respectability.

"I can hold my breath longer than he can hold a job," he said with a serious look.

But several weeks passed and then Britney announced that Maxwell was about to receive a bountiful pay cheque. Mr. Bitterman said he thought, just for a moment, there might be an iota of hope for Maxwell as a prospective son-in-law.

Mr. Bitterman's chief concern, of course, is for Baby Maybe. He wants to know that his grandson can be supported by those responsible for his birth. His daughter, Britney, of course, has been receiving social assistance, while Maxwell, other than the contribution of a stolen bicycle, hasn't contributed a single dime toward the little tyke's upkeep.

Alas, Mr. Bitterman's faint hopes were dashed when he learned how Maxwell chosen to spend the bulk of his first pay cheque.

***

In his infinite wisdom, Maxwell spent his money on a large tattoo on the back of his left shoulder. It took almost three-quarters of his pay cheque to complete the transaction.

The tattoo, Mr. Bitterman explained, was supposed to be an accurate representation of Baby Maybe. He couldn't believe that Maxwell would be capable of such a foolish choice.

"I'm paying for most of the child's needs," he said caustically, "and Mr. Numb Nuts is throwing his money at a half-assed portrait on his back."

The tattoo, Mr. Bitterman added, wasn't even a decent reproduction of his grandson's image. In fact, he said it was "god-awful." Apparently, a recent picture of a sleeping Baby Maybe had been used as a model for the tattoo. But Mr. Bitterman said the tattoo looks more like a startled alien baby than his beautiful grandson.

***

Oscar, of course, provided these tales as part of his role as the Sack's official Bitterman correspondent. He enjoys a warm driveway relationship with Mr. Bitterman. This is how he's able to gain insight into the world of the Bitterman clan.

"You could probably say I'm his only confidant, right now," Oscar told us proudly.

Weed listened intently to Oscar's report on his recent conversation with Mr. Bitterman. He didn't say anything, but he was clearly amused by Mr. Bitterman's woes, Maxwell's tattoo and the recent removal of Ben's old lawn furniture.

Weed, of course, is the Sack's official Maxwell correspondent. He has frequent contact with Maxwell at the food court of the local mall. This is where Maxwell holds sway with a gaggle of doe-eyed hangers-on. Apparently, they're part of his crew for the ill-fated Cutlass Supreme Painting, his yet-to-be commercial painting business.

Oscar recently placed Weed on double probation, as far as his correspondent status was concerned. This was after Weed failed to gain any first-hand knowledge about Maxwell's recent employment success. After taking a generous gulp of coffee, Oscar looked at Weed and asked pointedly:

"So, do you have anything to add from the Maxwell file?"

***

Weed paused for a moment, chewing slowly on a piece of maple sugar donut. Finally, he nodded and scratched his unshaven chin.

"I knew about the tattoo and Maxwell's banishment from the Bitterman place. In fact, I've actually seen the tattoo with my own eyes," Weed replied knowledgeably.

Then he added, "And I would have to agree with Mr. Bitterman. The tattoo definitely resembles a startled alien baby."

Then Weed revealed that he had learned about several other developments in Maxwell's life. He said the information was good enough to deserve the removal of his recent probationary status as an official correspondent.

"No way," Oscar said quickly. "If it's good stuff, I'll reduce it to single probation."

"Deal," Weed replied.

***

Despite blowing the majority of his first cheque on body art, Maxwell has also managed to obtain his own one-bedroom apartment.

This is, of course, a major achievement on Maxwell's part. For the last year, Weed says Maxwell has been residing temporarily with an ever-changing number of close and distant family members. In most cases, he lived with a cousin's family while that particular cousin spent a short period of time in jail. Maxwell would simply take over the cousin's room and possessions for the duration of the incarceration.

"He's had enough cousins in the correctional centre to ensure a roof over his head for the entire year," Weed explained. "But eventually, a man needs to hang his hat in a place of own."

Weed said he had no idea how Maxwell managed to secure the apartment without paying the first and last month's rent. Nevertheless, Oscar was impressed with his report on the matter.

"You're now officially on single probation," he said warmly.

"That's swell," Weed replied, taking another bite from his maple sugar donut.

***

But Weed had one more piece of Maxwell news to report.

After chewing thoughtfully on his donut, he told us more about his recent conversation with Maxwell. Apparently, they had encountered each other at the local mall on Saturday afternoon. This was when he also caught a glimpse of Maxwell's alien baby tattoo.

Weed said Maxwell also mentioned another detail about his new apartment. Since he had been without a place of his own for so long, Maxwell didn't have much in the way of furniture for his new home. However, he experienced a grand stroke of luck during his waste management duties on the previous day.

As fortune would have it, someone in the Sack was throwing away a perfectly good set of lawn furniture. Maxwell said he recognized its virtues immediately and quickly called first dibs on the whole set. Thankfully, none of the other waste management professionals had any interest in the collection.

Maxwell said he's using the largest table in his kitchen along with several of the chairs. The rest of the lawn furniture has been tastefully-arranged in his new livingroom.

***

Oscar, of course, was enthralled by this piece of reportage. He looked at Weed with affection and declared that he was now free of any probation as an official Sack correspondent.

Weed popped the last of his maple sugar donut into his mouth and nodded his approval.

"This is fantastic," Oscar declared. "Not only has Maxwell proven himself to be a conservationist, but a great work of art has been made functional."

"Man," he added with enthusiasm, as he waved a piece of his own maple sugar donut in the air, "I love this neighbourhood."

***