A Bitter Pill

The Bitterman clan has been out of the Sack's spotlight for some time. This changed recently.

Mr. Bitterman, of course, is the patriarch of the family. He's a hard working man who seems to grow more beleaguered every year. This is mostly because of the trials and tribulations of his family.

Oscar is the Sack's primary correspondent on Mr. Bitterman's fortunes and current temperament. The two men enjoy a driveway relationship on account of living next door to each other.

Recently, Mr. Bitterman confessed to being at the end of his rope, as far as his family life is concerned. According to Oscar, his neighbour claims to be on the verge of "running away to Timbuktu."

To make matters worse, Mr. Bitterman is also suffering from some medical problems. A few years ago, his gall bladder was giving him "the gears." Now, he's complaining that he has "got the gout."

Mr. Bitterman has a certain flair for language at times.

***

Mrs. Bitterman is an interesting contrast to her husband.

For a considerable period, she appeared to walk through her family's troubles like a zombie. At the time, she was also at war with a bad case of menopause. She packed on a considerable amount of weight in only a few short years. It was rare to see her interact with other Sack residents.

Despite her increasing size, it seemed like she was trying to be invisible.

During the last year, however, Mrs. Bitterman has lost an impressive amount of weight. According to her husband, she's on some kind of fad diet. This involves periods of intense carnivorous behaviour, interspersed with grazing solely on various forms of vegetation. At least, that's how Oscar explained it.

In fairness, Mrs. Bitterman's weight loss should be attributed to more than just dieting. She has also been in regular attendance at a local fitness centre designed solely for women. Sack residents often see her carrying a mauve gym bag when she leaves for work in the mornings. According to Mr. Bitterman, his wife has been going to the gym "religiously" for the past eighteen months.

That can't be a bad thing.

***

Nevertheless, Mrs. Bitterman's renaissance has still ruffled her husband's feathers. He says she has become good friends with some like-minded fitness club members. In addition to their workout time, the group of fifty-plus women has been going out regularly for dinner, drinks and movies.

Mr. Bitterman says he has been mostly alone to deal with "all the family bullshit." Oscar says his neighbour is not happy about this at all.

***

Of course, Mrs. Bitterman is probably just getting on with her life, rather than becoming immersed in the constant drama provided by her daughter, Britney and her delightful partner, Maxwell.

Yet, Mr. Bitterman still has a point. Britney and Maxwell have continued to stumble through adulthood with no apparent sign of maturation. There are also their two rug rats, Hekyl and Jekyl to consider. While he remains a proud grandfather, Mr. Bitterman says the children are proving to be far more than he bargained for at this stage of his life.

"I can't believe there's still diapers in my house," he has told Oscar on several occasions. "I thought we were done with that years ago."

***

Maxwell has continued to be the bane of Mr. Bitterman's existence.

In short, Britney Bitterman's beau has proven himself, time and again, to be very adept at idleness. Consistently, he has failed to earn a steady income that provides any benefit to his young family. While Britney brings home some money from her part-time job at the local liquor commission store, they remain heavily dependent on the Bitterman family for their keep.

This is the gist of Mr. Bitterman's tirades when he meets with Oscar at their beside their respective driveways.

As a result of this situation, Mr. Bitterman says there's not even a hint on the horizon that his daughter, Maxwell and their offspring will be moving out anytime soon.

Maxwell, in the words of his de facto father-in-law, "doesn't have dime-one to his name."

***

Weed is the Sack's correspondent on all matters relating to Maxwell. He has provided us with some updates on Maxwell's view of the situation.

Maxwell, of course, was employed with the old town's waste management brigade. His career was interrupted when he toppled from the back of one their waste removal trucks. Apparently, he was demonstrating his patented "Look, ma! No hands!" trick. Sadly, a shoulder injury ensued.

The bum shoulder took Maxwell out of action for many months. He started to pick up a few shifts here and there with the waste management professionals, but eventually the work just dried up.

Fortunately, Maxwell claims that he's still waiting to hear about a disability settlement. He says he'll probably be "set for life" when the matter is finally resolved.

In addition to an upcoming windfall, Maxwell has continued to act as the Chief Executive Officer and sole proprietor of Cutlass Supreme Painting, a commercial painting enterprise. It's the most professional outfit of its kind among those that you've never heard of. At least, that's how Maxwell explains it to Weed.

Cutlass Supreme Painting, of course, has been in operation for a number of years now. However, it has yet to see a single dollar of income. This has everything to do with the absence of any real commercial painting gigs.

***

When he's not tending to their toddlers or under Britney Bitterman's watchful eye, Maxwell spends his time at the food court in the local mall. He's also a regular at the local candlepin bowling alley. This is a place, by the way, where champions are made.

According to Weed, Maxwell also spends his time peddling marijuana. Apparently, he's known as a low level dealer in low quality weed. This business is quite likely his only current source of income. However, Weed is quite confident that Maxwell likely indulges in enough of his own product to minimize any real financial gain. He could be right about this.

Maxwell, however, does remain with one enduring asset. He's still in possession of a 1983 Cutlass Supreme, the namesake of his commercial painting business. Both have value in Maxwell's eyes, even though neither has ever really been operable.

Weed reports that the vehicle recently suffered a burned out thingamabob. Maxwell says a new one is on order and is expected to arrive within a matter of weeks.

Mr. Bitterman, of course, isn't a big fan of Maxwell's 1983 Cutlass Supreme. In his mind, the vehicle is an eyesore fit only for a junkyard. The guardians of Sack aesthetics, Gordon and Elizabeth, certainly share this view.

***

According to Mr. Bitterman, the mobility of the vehicle isn't dependent on a back-ordered part. He says the real reason for the car's inertia is quite simple.

"Maxwell," he explained, "doesn't have a pot to piss in."

***

The family woes at the Bitterman abode have also been compounded by the recent return of their forgotten son, Jason.

Jason Bitterman is Britney's younger brother. He has been away from home for a considerable period. He left the old town when he joined the Canadian Forces. Now he's a three-year veteran of the Army. Until recently, he was posted to the military base in Petawawa, Ontario.

I like to say Petawawa almost as much as I like to type it.

Mr. Bitterman says the experience has certainly "made a man" out of Jason. Before he left home, he was considered impulsive and only sporadically responsible. Mr. Bitterman claims that his son is now lean and disciplined. Unfortunately, he adds that the young man has also demonstrated a new tendency to be self-righteous and hotheaded.

Jason has been posted back to the old town. He's also scheduled to deploy to Afghanistan later this year. Right now, he's staying at the family home as he awaits the purchase of his very own house.

It should be no surprise that Jason has had a few run-ins with his de facto brother-in-law, Maxwell. According to Mr. Bitterman, it didn't take his son long to discover that Maxwell was a lazy-assed civilian with no particular redeeming qualities. A number of confrontations have ensued, with Jason's sister, Britney usually in the middle of it all.

Apparently, this is the primary reason for Mr. Bitterman's desire to immigrate to Timbuktu.

***

About a month ago, one of the confrontations looked like it would get out of hand. Jason, it seemed, announced his intention to punch the living crap out of Maxwell.

Mr. Bitterman had to call the peelers.

Oscar was incredulous when he heard the story, since no other Sack resident has mentioned the matter. Certainly, he hadn't witnessed the peeler visit himself. Weed hadn't heard of it, either. It seemed impossible that such an event would also escape the eye of Gordon, the Grand Poohbah of the Sack Residents Society and his second-in-command, Elizabeth.

Weed, however, has deduced that the affair must've occurred during Gordon's latest two-week trip to Cuba. This would mean that the peeler visit occurred on Elizabeth's watch. Oscar says he intends to pursue impeachment proceedings against her at the earliest opportunity.

Nevertheless, it still remains surprising that the rest of us didn't notice a peeler visit to the Bitterman home. I think we might be maturing.

***

According to Mr. Bitterman, the peelers arrived and cooler heads prevailed. No charges were laid against anyone. Jason, however, was asked to leave the premises for twenty-four hours.

Since returning, Jason has kept his distance from Maxwell. In fact, Mr. Bitterman says his son has yet to acknowledge the other man's existence. He says Jason acts as if Maxwell doesn't even exist. Apparently, this causes continuing conflict with Britney, although Mr. Bitterman says Maxwell doesn't pay the matter any heed.

This continuing situation has unfolded without much interest or participation from Mrs. Bitterman. Her husband says she remains "addicted" to the gym and continues to "hobnob" with her friends.

Meanwhile, Mr. Bitterman sees himself as being left to suffer the consequences of their offspring.

***

Oscar says there's no telling what someone will tell you in the midst of a driveway relationship.

Apparently, Mr. Bitterman has revealed some of the hardships associated with having "the gout." In particular, he has noted an unfortunate side effect of the medication being used to treat his illness. He says he has been constipated now for weeks. For him, this is like adding "insult to injury."

"It's one thing to be living with an imbecile," said Mr. Bitterman about Maxwell, "but it's another thing to be constipated all the time."

According to Oscar, Mr. Bitterman has also acquired a rather strong body odour. He doesn't know if this has anything to do with getting the gout. Certainly, Mr. Bitterman didn't mention it.

After telling Oscar about his constipation, Mr. Bitterman apparently leaned closer to him and added, "Do you know what I mean?"

Oscar couldn't think of anything else to say but, "I catch your drift."

***

Short Blasts of Hot Air

Today's entry has no particular theme or focus. It's just an assortment of Sack news and nonsense.

Let's get ready to ramble. . . .

***

A few weeks ago, that Obama fellow from south of the border paid a visit to this land of Canuckleheads. He popped into Ottawa, the nation's capital for about seven hours. There was much ado about the matter in the media.

Oscar and Weed watched the whole thing on live daytime television. Both, of course, have the time for such endeavours. Weed recently became unemployed, while Oscar works from home. Even a seasoned eye would have difficulty telling their circumstances apart.

While Oscar and Weed are in general disagreement on most matters, both were very impressed by the new American leader. Weed said he would have no problem getting behind such an articulate, intelligent skipper.

"There's something about the dude that makes you want to be on his team," he said firmly.

Oscar nodded his agreement. He said it was a vast improvement on the previous American leader.

"Obama makes the other guy look like he had a brain injury or something."

***

The Sack's new ghost neighbours are back on the radar screen.

Oscar became the first Sack resident to interact with one of them since the couple arrived here in late December. He informed Weed and your agent about the matter during a recent conference at the local coffee cathedral.

Apparently, Oscar encountered the male half of the couple outside in the Sack last week. The fellow was getting into his car as Oscar ventured out to the community mailbox.

According to Oscar, the man's name is Winston. Unfortunately, this was the extent of the information he was able to garner during their brief conversation. He said our new neighbour, Winston was remarkably reticent about revealing any information about himself or his partner.

***

Oscar is blessed with the ability to meet people very easily. He's particularly good at putting people at ease and making a good first impression. Winston, however, proved to be a tough nut to crack. Oscar said the man was polite, yet distant. He laughed at Oscar's irrepressible wit at the all the appropriate places, but resisted any inquiries about his own life. At least, that's how Oscar described their meeting.

When asked about his occupation, Winston merely said that he worked "in business." Oscar couldn't believe the vagueness in his reply.

"That's like saying you're from Earth," said Oscar with a smirk, "when someone asks where you're from."

***

Oscar says the experience tells us that something nefarious is going on at Rental Doug's former abode. He said Winston and his partner are either involved in the espionage game or they're running a marijuana grow-op. He said he hasn't made up his mind on the matter.

"As soon as I get more information," said Oscar, with a wave of his donut, "I'll let you guys know what my final assessment is."

Weed said Oscar is probably right that the couple is involved in espionage. He said he has a good idea about the focus of their spying activity, too.

"They work for Oscar's main office in Toronto. They're here to check up on him and see what he does all day," he said with confidence.

Then he poked his own donut in Oscar's direction and added, "You, my friend, are about to get busted."

I remain doubtful about all of this.

***

Young Tremayne has paid another visit to the Wonders' front door.

Tremayne, of course, is the Sack's leading peddler of fundraising chocolate bars. In your agent's opinion, the boy is a legend in his field.

On this occasion, Tremayne was hawking chocolate bars in support of an upcoming school ski trip. He explained this in a dry monotone.

"A ski trip," I said cheerfully. "That sounds exciting."

Tremayne simply shrugged.

"Have you been skiing before?" I asked.

"Nope," said Tremayne. He was rummaging through his bag of fundraiser chocolate bars. I had already agreed to purchase one.

"Well, I'm sure you'll have a great time," I said hopefully.

Tremayne's face remained noncommittal. After accepting my cash and passing over my chocolate bar, he looked up and said, "If you don't go on the ski trip, you have to spend the whole day in the library."

"Ah," your agent replied, "that would suck." For the first time, Tremayne smiled.

"We're goin' on a bus," he said with his first hint of enthusiasm. "It's gonna take two hours to get there."

"That's a long drive, eh?" I answered.

"Yup," said Tremayne, "that's four hours altogether." A look of bold confidence suddenly appeared on his face.

"That's okay, though," he added, "because I'm gettin' a window seat."

***

Elizabeth, the second-in-command of the Sack's venerable Residents Society has delivered some new intelligence on the subject of Dirk's recent black eye.

Dirk, of course, is the dark lord of Burning Manor. His fragrant partner, Dora is the lady of the joint. Burning Manor is their Sack residence. It earned this moniker after their original house burned down. Before that, their place was simply known as the crazy house.

Recently, Dirk was observed bearing a rather nasty facial injury. Black, purple and yellowish bruises surrounded his right eye.

Sack observers have been stymied in their attempts to learn about the origins of Dirk's injury. At Tuesday Night Bingo, there are people who travel in Dora's complicated family and social networks. Apparently, they're always quick to provide the rest of the story whenever shenanigans occur at Burning Manor. Unfortunately, the Sack residents who frequent Tuesday Night Bingo haven't been in attendance. Both Norma and Doo's mom have given up the bingo in order to save money for their respective trips to Cuba.

Elizabeth, of course, does not attend Tuesday Night Bingo. Oscar says she wouldn't be caught dead at such a venue. He could be right about this.

***

The explanation about Dirk's black eye came to Elizabeth from a very unlikely source. As Weed put it, this marked the first time that news about the denizens of Burning Manor had arrived in such a fashion.

The details of the matter came from Dirk himself.

Elizabeth, of course, obtained this information in an equally unique fashion. She simply approached Dirk on his next-door driveway and asked, "What happened to your eye?"

According to Dirk, he took a spectacular slip on a patch of ice and then fell squarely on his face.

Elizabeth, of course, was left unsatisfied by Dirk's explanation. When she informed your agent about the conversation a few weeks ago, she smirked and said, "Of course, that bloody woman of his had nothing to do with it."

***

Our final bit of news also concerns Elizabeth. On Thursday, your agent motored into the Sack at the end of the workday. Her husband, Prince Philip was carefully escorting her down their front steps.

There was a noticeable cast on her left foot.

Oscar was quick to fill me in on the details of the matter. He said he had spoken directly to Prince Philip about the subject. Apparently, Elizabeth had taken a spill on an icy sidewalk near her job at a local psychiatric facility.

Prince Philip said his lovely wife suffered a badly broken ankle.

Weed says this is clear evidence of "karma in action." He could be right about this.

***