It's Only Rock & Roll

Elizabeth is in Montreal visiting her sister. She's supposed to return on Sunday.

Concerns about Burning Manor shenanigans have fallen sharply since she left. This is no coincidence. Some people have expressed hope that Elizabeth will cool off a bit while she's away. A recent event, however, will probably render this is unlikely.

On Friday morning, a truck appeared in front of Burning Manor. The sign on the driver's door read: Wyse Guys Fencing Ltd.

Burning Manor was about to get a black chainlink fence around its perimeter. When the work was completed, part of the new fence was erected against one side of Elizabeth's house. This, of course, is completely contrary to her stated desire.

Elizabeth will not be amused.

***

My position on The Rolling Stones has been stated here before.

A lot of people really enjoy the Stones. I have no trouble with this at all. Unfortunately, Mick, Keef and the boys completely fail to capture my interest. I've tried to like them, but it just doesn't work.

So if you asked me to see the Stones with you, I would say, "Thank you, but no. You go ahead without me. I'll just stay here. But again, thank you for asking."

***

The Rolling Stones are coming to the old town in late September.

A formal announcement on the matter was made this week. It will be an outdoor concert held in the downtown area. As many as sixty thousand people are expected to attend. A number of Canadian bands are expected to perform as well.

Oscar, of course, is ecstatic about this development. He saw the Stones for the first time last summer when they played in Moncton. At the time, attending the concert was one of only two unmet aspirations in Oscar's life.

His only remaining goal now is to own a helper monkey. Progress on this front appears to be moving very slowly.

***

Oscar tried very hard to convince me to buy a ticket for the concert. Of course, I maintained a flat refusal.

Finally, he said, "Everyone around here is going."

He thought this piece of information might sway my position. The number of Sack residents going to see the Stones, I replied, would only be a further reason to stay home.

Nevertheless, Oscar was mostly right about Sack residents and their plans for the Stones concert. The Sack, it seems, will be well represented at the show. Since we had little else to do on a hot, humid day, we ran down the list of Sack residents and their concert intentions:

Computer Doug has seen the Stones on numerous occasions. But both him and his wife, Marion, have already marked their calendars. Oscar says Computer Doug is a member of the Stones' fan club and gets preferred prices and seating.

This wouldn't surprise me if it were true.

Gordon, of all people, is also planning to see the Stones. Even Gordon's wife is planning to buy a ticket. This is a big surprise to most Sack people. A concert of this magnitude seems far too uncivilized for a man of Gordon's mien.

Oscar, however, is unsurprised by Gordon's decision. He says it's the event aspect of the show that attracts someone like Gordon. After all, Oscar noted, Gordon attended the Pope's visit to the old town in 1984 and he's not even Catholic.

***

Ben and Norma have also expressed interest in attending.

Ben, a senior cook in the military, was recently posted to a navy ship. He was supposed to be deployed to the Golan Heights, but Canada has stood down from their peacekeeping role there. Ben says he'll be going if his ship isn't sailing anywhere. Norma says she'll be going either way. This is Mrs. Wonders' position on the matter, too.

Florence, the Wonders' next door neighbour, is planning to buy a ticket. She says it will be the second time in her life that she has gone to a rock concert. The first one she attended was several years ago, when many Sack people went to see Blue Rodeo. During that evening, Florence lost her cell phone. Since then, she says she's taken a dim view of concerts.

Nevertheless, she says it's time to turn over a new leaf.

***

Weed and Daisy are hoping the concert will be their first outing since Baby Doug was born. Weed says he has already tried to made arrangements for his parents to look after the baby on that day. Unfortunately, his parents said they're hoping to go to the concert, too.

So Baby Doug could be going to see the Stones, too.

***

Maxwell has also indicated his interest in seeing the show.

This news was also very surprising, given Maxwell's tendency to carry around a very light wallet. Apparently the ticket price for the concert will be in the neighbourhood of one hundred dollars. This is only slightly below the cost of a certain 1993 Cutlass Supreme.

Fortunately, Maxwell doesn't expect to be paying for his ticket. He told Weed that his uncle is tight with someone who's related to a Stones roadie. According to Maxwell, it's almost a certainty that he and Britney Bitterman will have backstage passes.

Weed couldn't confirm whether Maxwell was referring to his Uncle Ted, the legendary, one-armed candlepin bowling champion. I told Oscar that Weed's role as the Sack's official Maxwell correspondent is hanging by threads.

***

The Stones are certainly on Little Doug's agenda for September. But there are several matters he needs to clear up before his attendance can be confirmed.

As it stands, Little Doug is scheduled to go fishing in Labrador during the same week as the concert. If he and his fishing mates can alter their travel plans, Little Doug says they'll be bound for The Stones instead.

Of course, both of these activities will depend on Little Doug's upper dental plate. He recently received a new one after accidently flushing his old set down the toilet. While the old set was eventually retrieved intact, hygiene concerns apparently rendered it useless.

According to Little Doug, the new upper plate has been sent back twice because of discomfort. He says it will be another three weeks before the latest set arrives. Although this is well before the concert, Little Doug says he can't take anything for granted.

"Once bitten," he said solemnly, "twice shy."

If he doesn't have his new teeth by mid-September, Little Doug says he won't be going anywhere. With only half of his teeth, he says he doesn't like to go very far from home, if he can help it.

I would probably feel the same way, if I were Little Doug.

***

Oscar says neither Satan, nor his minions, would miss a Stones concert. Like Computer Doug, they're also members of the Stones' fan club and get discounts on tickets. As a result, Oscar says Rental Doug will likely be required to attend the show.

According to Oscar's theory, Rental Doug is related to, or simply employed by, Satan himself. Personally, I have no opinion on the matter. Although I do believe Oscar can believe anything he likes.

***

Doo's mom and his step dad, Sticky will likely be at the concert. At least, that's how Oscar views things.

He says Sticky has a tattoo of the Stone's trademark lips on his shoulder. This, according to Oscar, is a sure sign of Sticky's concert plans. Also, he noted how Doo's mom has a sweatshirt that reads Foxy Lady. According to Oscar, this correlates highly with women who enjoy the Stones.

Weed, of course, had a different opinion on the matter. He said Sticky's tattoo is really a poorly-drawn image of a butterfly. He also expressed doubt about the foxy lady theory.

Besides, Sticky's a bus driver with the old town's transit system. Weed says Sticky will probably score some heavy overtime hours by working before and after the concert.

I think he could be right about this.

***

Will Dirk and Dora go to the Stones concert? According to Oscar, the answer is "yes."

He claims to have seen Dora wearing a black Stones T-shirt during one of her early morning dog-finding expeditions through the Sack. On the other hand, I replied, Dirk and Dora seem to spend most of their entertainment dollars on alcohol. Two tickets to the Stones concert would require a significant budget shift on their part.

This might be true, Oscar admitted. But in the end, he says they won't pass up the chance to attend a big party.

***

Big Doug is definitely not going to the concert.

This has nothing to do with the Stones or any of the Canadian bands. Big Doug says he simply isn't very interested in music. He said he just doesn't have time for such things.

Of course, as Oscar pointed out, when you wash your truck four times a week, you don't have much time for trivial things such as music or the Rolling Stones.

***

Nevertheless, Big Doug is very confident in his position on the whole subject of music. He says he "knows what he likes" and "likes what he knows." This is a philosophy that seems to govern most aspects of his life.

Of course, Big Doug has no trouble with others going to see the Stones. "Knock yourselves out," is what he told Oscar about the whole matter.

If there is anything that does irk Big Doug about the concert, it's the old town's involvement with the financial side. Big Doug says he doesn't want to see the event cost taxpayers any money. He says the old town might as well bring back gladiators and lions, if they're going to dabble in the entertainment world.

He said he would be far more likely to spend his money on a gladiator-lion match-up than a stupid concert. I'm fairly sure that he was only kidding about this.

But Big Doug was serious when he said the old town's mayor needs a good kick in the arse.

***

There were three heavy set men working for Wyse Guys Fencing Ltd.

One of the men is named Bert Wyse. The other two are his younger brothers. Oscar said he went to grade school with Bert Wyse. In the second grade, Oscar says Bert "pooped his pants" in class one day. From that moment, until some time in high school, he was known to his peers as "Dirty Bertie."

Oscar said he came very close to calling Bert by this childhood name. He hadn't seen Bert for a number of years. But it was the first thing he thought about when he saw him working on Burning Manor's fence.

***

This reference to "Dirty Bertie" was not intended as yet another scatological reference. This couldn't be further from the truth.

Bert and his brothers really are quite relevant to our discussion about the Stones. Apparently, all three are planning to attend the concert.

***

But I won't be going anywhere near the Stones.

Instead, you'll probably find me on the porch with a book in hand, or wearing the headphones that connect to my newfangled MP3 player. I might even have a notebook on my lap in preparation for using the blogging machine.

Better yet, I might even put my feet up, chew absently on a piece of red licorice and watch Big Doug wash his truck.

I could do anything I want.

***

In the Toilet

Today's narrative deals with the human bum. It's the second time in three outings that we've been focused there.

This doesn't suggest a trend in these pages toward the lower forms of humour. It shouldn't be considered a fixation on the nether regions of the human body, either.

It's all just a big coincidence, of course. After all, we haven't discussed bum matters since Ben's colonoscopy late last year. And I don't expect we'll be talking about it again for some time, after today.

I'm glad we've cleared the air on this matter.

***

Another defining moment in the Sack occurred the other day.

It happened during a casual conversation between Oscar, Weed, Little Doug and me. Each of us had returned home at approximately the same time. The only exception was Oscar. He just happened to be standing outside his house when the rest of us arrived home.

The subject came up in a very casual fashion. It happened so quickly, there was no time to predict its arrival. It signified a new depth in the maturity of the Sack's neighbourly relationships.

Oscar and Weed calmly discussed their own recent bowel movements.

***

Oscar actually brought the matter up. This should be no surprise to the serious Sack watcher.

He was telling the assembled group about a bout of stomach flu he'd endured the day before. Before anyone could react, he spoke with great detail about the texture and other unique features of the bowel movement that accompanied it.

***

Weed gave Oscar a very surprised look. Some might even say that he gaped. It was a look that probably mirrored my own.

But Weed's surprise came from a very different place than mine. Apparently, he'd fought off a brief stomach flu, too. He asked Oscar a few questions about his bowel movement. Oscar replied with more rich detail.

Weed listened carefully and nodded knowingly. Finally he said, "Been there."

***

Then Weed gave his own description of his recent bathroom experience. It was very similar to Oscar's tale.

Oscar shook his head up and down. "That's it exactly, man." He looked at Weed with a new measure of respect. Weed seemed to nod in appreciation.

"Pretty wild, eh?" he said to Oscar.

"Really, eh," Oscar replied almost fondly.

"You said it, man," said Weed.

Then they looked at me at the same time. Each wore a thin layer of bravado on his face. I could almost feel a faint, cool breeze around me. It was an air of exclusion.

I suddenly noticed that Little Doug had wandered off to his home. He's a lot smarter than I give him credit for.

***

So bowel movements have become a matter of casual discourse in the Sack.

This can hardly be a point on the asset side of the cul-de-sac debate. The New Urbanism movement probably saw this coming a kilometre away.

I really don't know what to say about this state of affairs. I'm not even sure what to think. So all I said to Oscar and Weed was, "I gotta go home for supper."

And that's exactly what I did.

***

So that's how the Sack's latest bum-related matter ended. But before we close the door on the subject, we should give a final update on the previous bum story.

It turns out that Big Doug really is an "arse" man.

Weed and Oscar had a dispute about Big Doug's exclusive use of the word to describe the human backside. So they planned to entice Big Doug into using either "arse" or some other bum-related term. In the end, Oscar was the winner of the dispute.

***

My own role in the matter was to act as the official arbiter. I had to ensure that Big Doug would use the word in the proper context. Fortunately, Big Doug left no room for misinterpretation. He used his chosen word in a perfect context.

He said Oscar and Weed were "a pair of arseholes."

***

No Worries

Things are quiet on the Burning Manor front. Dirk and Dora seem to be keeping a low profile. Over a week has passed without an appearance by the peelers.

Of course, this may have everything to do with Elizabeth's absence. She's gone to visit her sister in Montreal for two weeks. Your agent is responsible for picking up her weekend newspapers.

I'm a man with responsibilities.

***

It has been some time since we spoke of Britney Bitterman and her embattled beau, Maxwell.

Over a month ago, Britney gave birth to a boy. The wee lad's name is rumoured to be Earl. Confirmation of the name wasn't available when we spoke of this matter last.

So we're certainly overdue for an update on this wing of the Sack's rogues gallery.

***

After the baby was born, Britney quickly moved into her own apartment. Apparently, it was provided by one of the old town's social housing programs.

Oscar learned about this during a recent driveway conference with Mr. Bitterman. Their relationship has blossomed since the occasional cordial nods they used to exchange. Now Mr. Bitterman gives Oscar frank, unsolicited and alarming updates on the perils of his family life.

***

News of Britney's apartment came as a big surprise to some very well informed Sack residents. They say Britney's at the Bitterman house almost every day and night.

These residents are considered to be very reliable sources. They're among the Sack's assorted daytime eyes. The group includes three teachers who live in the Sack. They started their summer vacations at the end of June.

The teachers spend a good portion of their day puttering about their respective yards. Sometimes they gather for coffee on one of the others' front porch. Last Wednesday, they even shared a few cold beers in the early afternoon.

There isn't much in the Sack that goes unnoticed by these folks.

***

And then, of course, there are Oscar and Daisy.

Oscar works from home, an activity that seems to require less energy than an occasional hobby. This leaves him with a lot of time to meander about the Sack looking for adventure.

Daisy, of course, just gave birth to Baby Doug. She's planning to be on maternity leave for as long as possible. When the weather is good, Daisy tends to spend a lot of her time out on the porch with the baby. She also has a passing relationship of sorts with Britney Bitterman. They're both around the same age and have newborns. Apparently, they knew of each other back in their high school days.

Finally, there's Doo's step dad, Sticky. He's a bus driver for the old town's transit system. He seems to work a lot of afternoon and evening shifts. So he tends to be at home during the day.

So there's no shortage of daytime eyes in the Sack. If people say Britney's living mostly at the Bitterman home along with Baby "Maybe" Earl, then they're probably right.

***

And, of course, they are correct. Weed reports that even though Britney does have her own apartment, she is spending most of her time at the Bitterman household.

According to Weed's source, Britney didn't really want to get her own apartment, but it was the only way she could receive any financial assistance. And, of course, it was also the only way she could have unfettered contact with Baby (Maybe) Earl's father, Maxwell.

Weed says Maxwell has been banished from the Bitterman home for either the rest of eternity or "over Mr. Bitterman's dead body," whichever happens to occur first. Oscar also confirmed this aspect of the matter when he spoke with Mr. Bitterman.

So Britney spends most days and nights at the Bitterman home. A few days of the week are spent at her apartment, usually with Maxwell.

***

Weed's source for this information was the man himself, Maxwell.

Maxwell continues to be a regular visitor to the food court at the local mall. He used to spend more time at the local coffee cathedral, but a brief fling with one of the counter matrons ended rather badly. Apparently Britney has also demanded that Maxwell make himself scarce from the local coffee cathedral.

So Maxwell seems to have wisely chosen the food court as a safer place to spend his idle time.

***

Of course, Maxwell would likely argue that his time at the food court hardly represents idleness.

After all, the food court is also the unofficial administrative office for Cutlass Supreme Painting, Maxwell's residential and commercial painting business. Maxwell claims that he's often there with his "crew." Weed says they're a collection of slack-jawed yawners from Maxwell's old neighbourhood. Apparently, they need to be close at hand, in case a painting contact suddenly materializes.

Weed, of course, works in a call centre in an office complex attached to the mall. So he continues to have regular contact with Maxwell. In fact, he's the Sack's official Maxwell correspondent.

***

Weed says Maxwell is very pleased about the arrival of Baby "Maybe" Earl. It's his second child. He has a four-year-old son from a past relationship. Apparently Maxwell sees the young tyke with some regularity, but doesn't pay any child support.

"You can't get blood from a stone," he told Weed with a shrug.

***

Of course, Maxwell certainly aspires to provide financial support for his children. As soon as his ship comes in, he says he plans to make things right.

Maxwell's "ship" is embodied in the form of a 1993 Cutlass Supreme. That's the vehicle he must acquire in order to formally launch his own business.

The actual vehicle apparently belongs to his cousin. As soon as Maxwell has the money, the car will be his. Then the business can finally get off the ground.

***

In addition to being the company's namesake, the car will also play a critical role in daily operations. It will be used to carry the ladders needed for the actual painting gigs.

"Only an idiot," Maxwell explained to Weed, "would go around painting without a ladder."

***

Unfortunately, the 1993 Cutlass Supreme has remained illusive. Maxwell continues to suffer from a staggering shortfall in capital.

It's not even completely clear if the car remains in Maxwell's family. Oscar saw the vehicle at the drive-thru of the local coffee cathedral the other day. He said there was a middle-aged woman at the wheel.

Oscar says the car is badly in need of a new exhaust system.

***

So Cutlass Supreme Painting remains as a mere glint in Maxwell's eye. Apparently, he's still turning down lucrative painting contracts "left and right" because of the vehicle problem.

Fortunately, Maxwell remains unfailingly optimistic. He assured Weed that things would come together in the end.

Besides, he explained recently, even if he had the car, he wouldn't be able to do any painting right now. Maxwell said he's suffering from a "frigged-up shoulder." He's scheduled to have an MRI exam next November. His doctor told him he shouldn't lift a finger until at least then.

Apparently, a frigged-up shoulder is considered a low priority in our government-run health care system.

***

According to Maxwell, he hurt his shoulder in a painting-related accident. He said he fell off a ladder. His shoulder never really healed properly after that.

Maxwell said he really should "sue the ass off" one of the old town's established painting companies. That's whom he was working for when the accident occurred. He says they insisted that he come to work even though the shoulder was frigged up. Apparently, he ended up quitting as a result of the matter.

***

So Maxwell remains on the economic sidelines.

Nevertheless, Weed says he seems remarkable relaxed about the whole state of affairs. Despite the absence of a job, a regular income nor any immediate prospect of either one, Maxwell seems to be ambling along without any particular worries.

For him, it seems good enough that he's back in a romantic entanglement with Britney. And now they're proud parents of young Baby "Maybe" Earl. If that's all he thinks about, then he must be feeling quite good about life.

Weed says it must be very useful to be unable to worry about anything. He thinks an ability like this must come at a significant cost. He said one would likely have a smaller brain than the average person. This is the only way one could ignore the more troublesome parts of life.

In Maxwell's case, at least, I think he could be right about this.

***

Of Babies and Bums

Last Saturday morning brought an impromptu gathering of residents in the Sack's centre circle.

***

It was a spectacular day of warmth and sunshine. People just seemed to gravitate to the circle. Some had just returned from early morning errands, while others were just putting a start to the day.

At one point, Daisy emerged from her house and walked toward the circle. She was holding Baby Doug in her arms. He was about to have his first introduction into Sack society.

Amidst a chorus of cooing, Baby Doug was poked and prodded by the gathering of neighbours. Eventually, he tired of it and began to bawl. Oscar said it sounded just like the day when Weed realized he needed to find a full-time job.

***

Almost everyone agrees that Baby Doug is a very handsome lad.

The only dissenting voice belonged to Big Doug. After everyone but myself and Oscar had vacated the circle, he gave his true opinion on the matter.

"No offense," he said, jerking his thumb toward the house Daisy and Weed share with Little Doug, "but most newborns look like the back of my arse."

***

Oscar said he hopes Big Doug will never try to prove such a claim. I told him he had my firm agreement on the matter.

But Oscar says he does know one thing for certain: Big Doug always says "arse" instead of "ass."

Some people, he explained, will use "arse" only in a humourous vein. Others will use it as a gentle piece of vulgarity. But few people, he said emphatically, say "arse" exclusively.

***

I told Oscar his observation was undoubtedly correct. I said I couldn't recall hearing Big Doug utter a single "ass" since I moved to the Sack.

"It's been 100 percent "arse" from Big Doug since day one," I said confidently.

Oscar looked very pleased.

***

Of course, I have no idea about such matters.

But I know that it's sometimes best to simply agree with Oscar. Great bales of energy can be expended if one offers debate. Such energy can never be reclaimed.

The next day we met up with Weed at the local coffee cathedral. Oscar told him about Big Doug's proclivity for the word "arse."

Not surprisingly, Weed thinks this is preposterous. He claims he's certain that he has heard "ass," "bum," and even "bottom" from Big Doug before.

***

Oscar and Weed bantered the issue back and forth. I had cleaned out my wallet and retied my shoes before they ran out of steam.

In the end, they settled for a tie-breaking scheme. The next time they're in Big Doug's presence, they have to entice him to use a word to describe the human backside. If "arse" comes from Big Doug's lips, Oscar will win the day. Weed will stand in victory if he utters anything else.

Oscar and Weed asked if I would be the official arbiter in the whole matter. Apparently, I will have the final word, if there is any dispute about the word Big Doug uses and whether it has been elicited fairly.

I told them I would be happy to be their referee. Oscar said he would prefer that I referred to myself as the official arbiter. He said it sounded more dignified.

"Besides," he added, "we don't want anyone thinking this is just a game."

Let the arbiting begin.

***

The War of the Hoses

Relations between Burning Manor and the rest of the Sack worsen daily. Oscar says the whole matter is destined to end badly.

He could be right about this.

***

It started a number of weeks ago with the dog.

That's when Dora went ranting about the Sack looking for the big, barking and bored dog. It was three o'clock in the morning at the time.

Nasty words were exchanged. The peelers were called. Dora was left with a ticket for failing to have the dog on a leash.

It didn't take long for her to retaliate.

***

Over the following week, the old town's animal control people received complaints about four other Sack dogs. Each complaint said the dog in question had been seen running about the Sack without the benefit of a leash. Each complaint came from Dora.

The individual dog owners, of course, were outraged. None of the dogs had ever been a source of concern to anyone. Neither had any ever scampered about the Sack at three o'clock in the morning.

***

Even though the complaints were obviously unfounded, Roger (the animal control fellow) said he was obligated to investigate. He also said Dora would be warned about the possibility of charges against her, if she persisted in making false complaints.

This might have been the end of the matter, if not for Big Doug. His dog was one of the canines Dora complained about.

There is one thing that is useful to know about Big Doug. He is not a man who is accustomed to being the target of other people's complaints. As Oscar likes to describe it, Big Doug doesn't get in trouble with people. People get in trouble with Big Doug.

***

A day after Dora complained about his dog, Big Doug was driving past Burning Manor when he noticed her on the porch. He stopped his car and walked directly to where she sat on the front step. Then he asked her why she was poking her bony nose in his business.

It was around this time that Dora called Big Doug "a frickin' dick dog."

***

Aroused by raised voices, Elizabeth appeared on her porch next door. She couldn't resist lobbing a few unpleasantries at Dora for her continued shenanigans. It helped to know that Big Doug was firing at Dora from the other flank.

Dora swore, hissed at both of them and then retreated into Burning Manor. When she opened the front door, the big, barking, bored dog darted past her and toward Elizabeth. When the dog began to jump at her, Elizabeth apparently squealed with equal measures of fear and anger.

As she tried to push it away, the dog nipped her on the arm. Later, she would show the bruise to others as if it were a battle scar.

Dora finally corralled the dog and then more harsh words were exchanged. Elizabeth eventually made her way in the house and called the peelers.

In the end, Dora received another ticket for failing to keep her dog under control. The fine, I'm told, was close to two hundred dollars.

***

A week later, Dora sent another volley in Elizabeth's direction.

Out of the blue, Elizabeth received a call from a senior detective with the old town's peelers. He wanted to speak to her informally about Burning Manor.

The next day, the plainclothed peeler came to visit. According to Elizabeth, they had tea in her kitchen. The peeler explained that Dora was making persistent calls to the police with the following accusation: Elizabeth was the horrible soul who had torched Burning Manor last year. Motive? She bore hatred for Burning Manor's canine residents.

***

Of course, the detective knew this was all preposterous. But apparently Dora's complaints had gone all the way to the chief of the peelers. The detective had been asked to carry out a summary interview in hopes that it would placate Dora enough to make her go away.

Before leaving, he took note that Dora had been ticketed twice for dog infractions in quick succession. Added to this latest accusation and the bogus complaints to animal control, he said Dora was at risk of being charged with mischief.

***

A few more quiet days passed. Then Dirk and Dora decided to build a fence around Burning Manor.

Ordinarily, Elizabeth would have been thrilled to hear about this development. She is on record with her preference for seeing as little of Dirk and Dora as possible. If a fence created this state of affairs, Elizabeth would've been all for it.

Unfortunately, she has decided to show everyone in the Sack her nurturing side, instead. In this case, I mean her ability to nurture a grudge.

***

To build a fence, Dirk and Dora require permission from their next door neighbours. Elizabeth has decided that she'll do everything in her power to stand in their way.

When Dirk approached her about the fence, Elizabeth apparently said, "Not in this lifetime."

Oscar said she might've added a sinister laugh, but he wasn't certain about it.

***

The next time Dora saw Elizabeth, she said she was going to sue Elizabeth "for harassment."

Elizabeth said she laughed in Dora's face and said, "I thought your lawyer only handled criminal law."

Apparently, this barb "went right over the witch's head." At least, that's how Elizabeth phrased it.

***

A few days of peace ensued.

Some people saw it as an unspoken truce. But others knew it was only the calm before the rest of the storm.

Yesterday, Elizabeth discovered that her garden house had somehow found its way onto a portion of Burning Manor's rear lawn. Naturally, she went to retrieve it.

Later in the day, Oscar and Weed were sitting on Little Doug's front porch. They watched as a peeler car entered the Sack and stopped in front of Burning Manor. Two peelers knocked on the door and then waited for ages before a dishevelled Dora finally let them in.

After about fifteen minutes, the peelers emerged from Burning Manor and then knocked on Elizabeth's door. They were inside for the better part of an hour.

***

Elizabeth says she had tea with the two peelers.

One of the officers had a digital camera that allegedly belonged to Dora. On the camera's display screen was a picture of Elizabeth in Burning Manor's back yard. It had been taken when she went to retrieve her garden hose. Dora had complained that Elizabeth was trespassing on her property.

She wanted the peelers to press charges.

According to Elizabeth, the peelers recognized that Dora was becoming an increasing nuisance around the Sack. Nevertheless, they seemed reticent about taking any decisive action. One of the officers even hinted that this wasn't the first time the peelers had "been down this road" with Dora.

They reminded Elizabeth to stick to her own backyard and keep a close eye on her garden hose. They told her not to do anything that might inflame the situation.

Elizabeth told them she would do her best. But she also said she wasn't going to "make any promises" that she won't take a shot at Dora if the opportunity arises.

Thankfully, she meant the "complaint" kind of shot and not the "bullet" kind. Although, with the first anniversary of Burning Manor's first demise on the horizon, anything, I suppose, is possible.

***

Cheesed Off

Tonight, I rolled the compost bin down to the curb. Collection takes place tomorrow morning.

While I'm at the curb, Oscar and his wife, B.W. drive into the Sack. Oscar lingers at his car door until B.W. has gone into the house. Then he heads over in my direction.

He tells me that he and B.W. have been out shopping for a new ceiling fan for their kitchen. His boy, Dorian broke their old one several months ago. Apparently there was a hockey stick involved.

Oscar says they went looking for a new one at Home Depot, Walmart and Canadian Tire. But they couldn't find anything that B.W. liked. They even went to two entirely different Walmart and Canadian Tire locations. But B.W. still couldn't find what she wanted.

Oscar said he would've picked one from the first place they went, if he was making the purchase on his own. Apparently, B.W. said she wasn't surprised to hear this.

In the end, Oscar grew very tired of shopping for a new ceiling fan with B.W. He told her he would rather sell their existing home for one that contained a new ceiling fan, if it meant that he didn't have to go shopping for a new ceiling fan anymore.

B.W. says she just might take him up on the offer.

***

"Frickin' dick dog."

That's what Dora called Big Doug this week during the latest confrontation between her and various Sack residents. During the last two weeks, a real tempest has begun to brew. Some Sack people have been doing what they say they should've done before: Call the peelers or the old town government at every opportunity, if Burning Manor starts any more of its old shenanigans.

As a result, Dora has been getting steady visits from animal control, bylaw enforcement and even police. Not surprisingly, she's not happy about it. And now she's starting to fight back.

****

We'll report more about the new Burning Manor conflict at another time. First we need to talk more about "frickin' dick dog."

Aside from its obvious derogatory intentions, I have no idea what "frickin' dick dog" means. This hasn't stopped me from admiring its originality. I even carried out a Google search to see if anyone hadn't uttered it electronically.

Weed was particularly enthralled by "frickin' dick dog." He says he's been using it as his silent oath of choice ever since he heard Big Doug mention it. He said he even used it on Little Doug the other day. Apparently, Little Doug was complaining about some groceries Weed had purchased.

Of course, he didn't call Little Doug a "frickin' dick dog" out loud. He just said it in his mind.

***

Speaking of Little Doug, he has been a grandfather now for about two weeks. So far, he says things are going fairly well.

In fact, his only complaint is with the upset in his usual routine since his grandson's arrival. The new grocery arrangements, in particular, are an area of concern.

***

Daisy used to look after the groceries before the baby arrived. Sometimes Weed or Little Doug would go with her, but it was Daisy who decided what to buy. Now that Baby Doug is here, Weed has assumed this responsibility. This is where Little Doug's problem begins.

His chief complaint concerns Weed's apparent ability to discern quality food from "garbage." He pointed to how Weed had handled the purchase of one of his favourite cheese products.

Last weekend, Weed brought home a supply of groceries for the Little Doug household. At some point after this, Little Doug decided to make himself a sandwich. That's when he went looking for the Cheez Whiz.

***

Little Doug was very relieved when he finally found it. Then he was horrified to discover that it wasn't Cheez Whiz at all. Weed had purchased a no-name product of the lowest order. Little Doug called the stuff "knock-off Cheez Whiz."

"No one in his right mind," he said bitterly, "would buy anything other than the real stuff. Do you know what I mean?

It sounds like something a frickin' dick dog would do, I answered. I didn't say this out loud, of course. I just said it in my mind.

***

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."

***

Sound Bites

The long weekend is over. The Sack's summer season has officially begun.

***

It's eight-thirty in the evening.

I pour a pint of Propeller Bitter, grab my notebook and relax on the top step of the Wonders' front porch. The Sack is silent, save for the occasional muffled sound of cars on nearby streets. Although it's still light out, darkness looms in the distance.

After a sip of drink and a moment of solitude, the sounds that lie below the Sack's surface begin to emerge. These secondary sounds can only be heard with a careful ear.

***

The first sound is a female voice. It's Norma.

Norma calls out Ben's name from within their tidy home. She draws it out into two syllables, "Beh-en!" Befitting a weeknight in July, all of their windows are wide open.

Ben responds with a loud, but casual, "Yeah?"

His voice sounds a bit more distant. He's probably down in the little workshop at the back of his basement. Norma calls out something else, but I can't make out her words. She must be calling down the stairs or have her back to the front window.

I decide that she wants Ben to open a pickle jar for her.

***

The next sound tells of rushing water. Eventually, I see Gordon near the back of Big Doug's property. He's cleaning the siding on Big Doug's shed.

Gordon has a new pressure washer. He ran out of things to clean at his own place. Now he's making the rounds to clean stuff for others. The Wonders' home now has the old town's cleanest driveway. You could probably eat from it, if you were so inclined.

But I'd stick with plates if I were you.

***

When the water pauses, I hear the sound of footsteps on a wooden deck. The footsteps sound like the quick, firm cuts of an axe against a thick tree.

I don't look up from my notebook. To make eye contact will only lead to idle banter with the owner of the footsteps. This would spoil the moment.

But my curiosity eventually gets the best of me.

***

Elizabeth is walking down her front steps. She pays no attention to me.

Soon, she has a garden hose in her hand and begins to water the flowers in her front garden. It's then that I notice her curious appearance.

Elizabeth is wearing what looks like an expensive spring coat. The coat extends only to the middle of her thighs. Her legs are bare, except for a pair of medium-heeled house slippers. The coat is grey with a black belt. The slippers are a burnt orange colour.

It's obvious that Elizabeth has recently emerged from the shower. Her hair is wet and combed straight back across her scalp. With an odd sense of discomfort, I wonder if she's wearing anything underneath her expensive spring coat.

I decide that she's wearing flannel shorts and a T-shirt under the coat.

***

Suddenly, the coat starts ringing.

Elizabeth digs out a cordless phone from one of the pockets and nestles it between her shoulder and ear. She continues to water the garden while talking on the phone. Occasionally, her voice rises, but I can't decipher a thing she's saying.

***

As my attention drifts from Elizabeth, I pick up the plaintive sound of a hungry cat. I look over at Little Doug's house immediately. Little Doug owns a posse of outdoor cats. The cats arrive home at the end of their killing day and cry out for admission into the house.

An enormous long-haired, black cat is on Little Doug's porch. It continues to bawl, but no one answers the door. Daisy is usually the one to let the cats in. Little Doug and Weed will do it, but only if they notice the cats when they're leaving the house or coming home.

But Daisy's probably busy with Baby Doug and has forgotten about the cats. She's got bigger fish to fry, now.

***

A metallic rattling sound suddenly enters the Sack.

It's coming from Weed's car as he motors into Little Doug's driveway. Oscar says Weed's car has a loose thingamabob. He was actually a bit more specific about the problem, but I don't recall what he said.

The workings of the automobile remain a mystery to me.

***

Weed gives me a brief wave and heads toward the front door. He knows he can't tarry now that the baby is upon them.

Thankfully, he lets the hungry cat into the house.

***

Silence returns, but only briefly.

Elizabeth has gone back into the house. Gordon seems to have finished his pressure washing for the evening. Ben has satisfied whatever request Norma had for him. Maybe she has her pickles now.

A taxi drives into the Sack and moves around the centre circle. The car is a BMW, an odd choice for a taxi. I've seen it around the old town on numerous occasions. A young man exits from the cab and goes into Ben and Norma's house. I think he's a relative of theirs.

The BMW taxi drives away. I make a mental note to ask Oscar about it. Oscar usually has accurate intelligence on such banal matters.

***

A few more minutes of relative silence elapses.

Then I discern the sound of a radio program. I can't make out the words, but the smooth tones of a polished radio host can be distinguished. Eventually, I recognize the program as one from CBC1, the national radio network. The host is a well-known social democrat and his guest on this show is the editor of a conservative Alberta-based monthly magazine. The program was on the car radio when I returned home earlier. I was only half-listening to it at the time.

Although the host and his guest are polar opposites on the political front, they seem to get along quite well. I can even make out the sound of occasional laughter.

The radio broadcast seems to be coming from Florence's house next door. I wouldn't mind at all if she turned the volume up a bit.

***

I'm suddenly distracted by a definitive-sounding, "No!"

The voice seems to be coming from Doo's house. It should be no surprise that the voice belongs to Doo's mom. When it comes to Doo, "no" seems to be an integral part of her parenting vocabulary.

I don't hear any response from Doo. I think he's very accustomed to hearing "no." So he's probably getting better at knowing when "no" really means "no."

I decide that Doo wanted to stay up until ten o'clock.

***

Before I can pick up any other Sack sounds, a spotlight at the foot of the Wonders' porch suddenly comes to life. It's set on a timer to come on at dusk.

The spotlight bathes me in a white light. Suddenly, the porch is a stage and I'm its sole occupant.

It's time to call it a night.

***