Cleaning Out the Closet

According to Benjamin Disraeli, change is constant and inevitable. This certainly holds true in the Sack.  There's almost always something new to talk about. Sometimes, one has to look hard to find it, but a practiced eye will almost always yield success.

But it's also true that changes in the Sack possess a certain consistency.  There are, for example, the recurring absurdities of suburban life.  Then there are events that simply reinforce aspects of our own unique personalities and individual characteristics.

In other words, the more things change, the more they stay the same.

A steady stream of shenanigans occurred in the Sack during your agent's recent hiatus.  There is a great deal of catching up to do. However, your agent's time is still somewhat limited by a little film project.  It's going to take some time to clean out a closet filled with Sack news.

One can only do one's best.

***

There's a sportswriter in Toronto who occasionally begins his work with the phrase, "Items that might grow up to be columns."  Then he provides an assortment of tidbits from the world of sports.  In today's offering, we're going to borrow this little convention.

At the very least, we can make a small start on that messy closet of accumulated Sack news.  We can also provide an overview of what else lurks within it.

Without further ado, therefore, we present Sack news that might grow up to be stories. . . . 

***

Burning Manor was on the real estate market for some time. This is no longer the case.  Dirk and his fragrant companion, Dora have decided not to sell the Sack's most infamous residence.  They are sticking around.

With the exception of your agent (who does not look a gift horse in the mouth), Sack residents were uniformly disappointed by this turn of events.  Big Doug seemed to capture the essence of this feeling when he exclaimed, "I was looking forward to seeing the arse end of them."

No one is entirely certain why Dirk and Dora have chosen to remain in the Sack.  At the moment, there is an unfortunate news blackout on the Burning Manor front.  Norma is usually the Sack's primary source of intelligence in this area.  She has contacts at Tuesday Night Bingo.  Several of her bingo-playing companions have loose ties to the madcap world of Dirk and Dora.  These folks can always be relied upon to provide details on the couple's most recent shenanigans.

Unfortunately, Norma hasn't been attending Tuesday Night Bingo since her husband, Ben left for his deployment in Afghanistan.  She plans on returning, however, when Ben comes home in June.

Oscar says she'll have a lot of catching up to do.  He could be right about this.

*** 

Among Sack residents, Rental Doug and his blended family were most disappointed by the news about Burning Manor. They were quite determined to purchase the place and become permanent Sack residents.  A number of formal offers were made while it was on the market, but Dirk and Dora refused to bite on any of them.

Compounding this disappointment was recent news from the owner of Rental Doug's Sack abode.  Apparently, he intends to sell the property as soon as possible.  Unfortunately, the asking price is well above Rental Doug's budget. The lease on the home will expire at the end of September.  Rental Doug and his family will have to move.

The Sack, it seems, will be losing a Doug.

***

Britney Bitterman's beau, Maxwell continues to astound Sack observers with his idle ways.

Reportedly crippled by a shoulder injury, Maxwell successfully evaded gainful employment for well over three months.  Much of this time was spent smoking on the Bitterman's front porch, entertaining his cronies at the food court in the local mall and engaging in a thrice-weekly game of candlepin bowling.

Fortunately for Maxwell, his financial needs were aptly met by regular disability payments, courtesy of the old town's waste management profession. He injured his shoulder, after all, by falling off the back of a garbage truck.

When questioned by Weed on the optics involved in his candlepin bowling activities, Maxwell was quick with his reassurances. Apparently, his physiotherapist had given him the green light to "rehab" his shoulder in this peculiar fashion.

The rehabilitation program must've been a success, as Maxwell recently returned to his work as a waste management professional. Restricted to light duties, he can often be spotted around the old town sleeping comfortably in the passenger seat of the aforementioned garbage truck.

***

Cutlass Supreme Painting, Maxwell's fledgling commercial painting business continues to teeter on the brink of corporate success.  At least, that's his perspective on the matter.

Hampered by his bum shoulder, Maxwell claims to have turned down a multitude of lucrative painting gigs from some of the old town's most discriminating customers. Always the eternal optimist, he remains confident of a spectacular windfall for the company when his painting shoulder is finally healed.

Oscar says Maxwell's shoulder injury has likely been misdiagnosed.  "I think we're looking at a brain injury here," he said thoughtfully.

He could right about this, too.

***

The biggest news, however, in the Maxwell-Bitterman camp concerns the recent birth of Britney Bitterman's second child.  The recent arrival is actually Maxwell's fourth child, with Britney being one of three different mothers.

Baby Maybe, of course, was the first offspring from the Maxwell-Britney union. He is now a toddler.  The newest child is also a boy.  

It is usually the custom for your agent, Oscar and Weed to anoint newcomers with a more appropriate Sack name.  It was not necessary in this case.  That's because Maxwell and Britney have already chosen a highly unusual name for their second child.  

Apparently, the wee lad's name is Hyde.

This unique moniker, however, caused us to reconsider Baby Maybe's name.  A change was also appropriate, in Oscar's view, since the tyke really isn't a baby anymore.  So last February, during a hastily arranged conference in the Wonders' front room, a new handle was duly chosen.

Baby Maybe will now be known in these pages as Jekyll.

***

Meanwhile, Mr. and Mrs. Bitterman are putting on a brave front in the face of the growing young family within their midst.

Although his gallbladder problems seem to be behind him, Mr. Bitterman's posture suggests there is much on his mind. When he arrives at his home at the end of the work-day, he walks with his head down and his eyes to the ground. Oscar says Mr. Bitterman looks like he's scanning the ground for a shiny penny.

"Probably looking for a little good luck," says Oscar.

However, Mr. Bitterman's downcast eyes might just have another purpose.  He might be avoiding the sight of the 1993 Cutlass Supreme parked in his driveway.  This vehicle, of course, is the namesake for Cutlass Supreme Painting.  In addition to the shared name, the business and the car have something else in common.

Neither are going anywhere fast.

Maxwell says the car "needs a few parts" before it will be operational again. Oscar says this is precisely what Maxwell's brain requires before it becomes functional, too.

***

Mrs. Bitterman continues to be a doting grandmother to both Jekyll and Hyde. She also seems to have emerged victorious in her battle with a nasty case of menopause.  Thankfully, she doesn't have the damp, sweaty appearance she sported in the recent past.

Instead, she seems to have developed a case of alopecia.

Oscar thinks it's quite likely that Mrs. Bitterman is literally pulling her hair out on account of Britney and Maxwell. Once again, he could be right about this.

***

Florence, the Wonders' next-door neighbour has also experienced some life changes.

Last January, her father, Jimmy passed away.  He was eighty-seven years old. Although Jimmy had not been around the Sack for a few years, there was a time where he spent his winters at Florence's home.  Barred from smoking indoors, Jimmy held court on her front porch even during the foulest weather.

From his chair on the front porch, Jimmy would call out a friendly greeting to anyone who passed by.  It didn't matter if the person wasn't acquainted with him, either.  Visiting repairmen, canvassers, joggers and lost motorists were hailed with the same warmth as Sack residents.  He was even known to call out to passing cats and dogs.

God bless Jimmy.

***

Florence is a successful, single woman.  She has a nice home and an active social life.  Although she goes out on the occasional date, she hasn't been involved in an ongoing relationship for some time.

Lately, however, Florence has been seeing a particular gentleman with some regularity.  He hasn't been introduced to Sack residents at this point, but his occasional presence in the neighbourhood has not gone unnoticed.  In fact, Oscar and Weed have already granted him a temporary name.

The gentleman in question is a tall, thin, lanky fellow who's prone to wearing cowboy boots on most occasions.  He drives a late-model Ford Explorer.  In keeping with a western motif, he also seems to favour large, ornate belt-buckles with his blue jeans.  Oscar says it's a crying shame that he doesn't wear a cowboy hat, as well.  Weed thinks it's only a matter of time before we'll see the man with one.

Until further details are known, Florence's suitor is known by the name Slim Ford.

***

Slim Ford appears to be a very fine fellow.  Your agent has already exchanged a few polite greetings with him when he has arrived at Florence's home.  His particular mode of greeting is a right-handed, two-fingered salute from his forehead.

If Slim Ford would finally wear a cowboy hat, Weed says he would undoubtedly greet your agent with a more cowboy-like tip of the hat. During a discussion at the local coffee cathedral, Weed tried to demonstrate such a greeting while wearing a toque.  However, a slight tug on its brim only resulted in partial coverage of his right eye.  This gave him a slightly crazed appearance. Oscar was enthralled.

For the balance of winter, Oscar and Weed used the tug-of-the-toque greeting whenever they encountered each other. Much to their consternation, I stuck with my trademarked peace sign.

***

Unlike Florence, Little Doug continues to have little success on the dating front. Ever since his first wife ran off with a man from the Internet, he has been very cautious in this regard.  Thankfully, however, he has other interests that keep him occupied.

During this past hunting season, he joined some of his comrades in a foray into the local wilderness.  Sack residents were greeted by a rather ghastly sight upon his return.  In the back of his pickup truck was the monstrously large carcass of a moose.

Since the animal was bagged by one of his compatriots, it did not remain there for long.  Little Doug, however, earned a considerable share of moose meat from the endeavour. Generous offerings of moose meat pie were extended to Sack residents throughout the winter.

Sack vegetarians, of course, remained appalled by the entire affair.

***

The subject of moose meat allows for a neat transition to the matter of beefcake.  In a sure sign of spring, the Sack was recently graced with the renewed appearance of Handsome Man. 

   

Handsome Man isn't the only jogger to regularly grace the Sack.  But he's certainly the most notable.  Several weeks ago, he made his first appearance of the outdoor running season.  Despite only moderately warm temperatures, he breezed through the neighbourhood without a shirt.  Already deeply tanned, his muscular physique sent female hearts aflutter and caused Sack men to unconsciously tighten their stomach muscles.

Oscar swore he heard a round of applause as Handsome Man loped out of the Sack and onto the main road.

***

The final item in our closet is a turnip.

Last April, your agent encountered Computer Doug on a breezy Saturday afternoon.  He was on his way to the local shopping emporium.  His wife, Marion had provided him with a grocery list.

"How's it going?" I said cheerfully.

The anticipated response in such situations is usually, "Fine." Other acceptable replies include, "Not bad," and "Good." Computer Doug, however, doesn't always conform to such social conventions.  In fact, he can be quite unconventional in this regard.

"I just found a turnip in my kids' bedroom closet," said Computer Doug, in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Really," your agent replied calmly.  I've known Computer Doug long enough to be unmoved by such unusual declarations.

"Yeah, it was a pretty big one, too," he continued.

"Wow.  Any idea how it got there?" I asked. 

"Nope.  We don't even buy turnip," he replied, holding up the grocery list for my inspection.

"That's interesting," I answered.  "What did your kids have to say about it?"

"Denials all round.  They don't even like turnip.  That's why we don't buy them."

"That's amazing," I said casually.

Computer Doug shrugged and put the key in his car door.  "I should probably clean out their closet more often," he said with slight grin. "It might cut down on our grocery bills."  As he moved to enter the car, he murmured a quiet, "See ya" and then tugged on the right side of his black toque.

I replied with my trademarked peace sign.

***