Sunday, January 16, 2011

Cul de Sac Crazy - Being 60 (week 37 - by Margaret Ullrich)

Sorry I missed a week.
It's been a bit crazy here.
Trust me.
No, I wasn't just playing with makeup for 2 weeks.

I'm just as hooked on the comings and goings of celebrities as the next person.  I watch ET.  I read a couple of chapters of Candace Bushnell's One Fifth Avenue before I go to sleep. 

But the celebs and Manhattanites have nothing on what's been going on in a once quiet little cul de sac right here in Winnipeg.

Think Kelsey Grammer's divorce is a mess?  
Think Sandra Bullock was blindsided?

Last Halloween our neighbor, let's call him A, left his companion, let's call him B.  
No word to anyone in the cul de sac.
Just left.

A little backgrounding: A had bought the house about 25 years ago.  B had moved in about 10 years ago.  B, similar to Monty Woolley's character in The Man Who Came to Dinner, wanted to be kept in a certain lifestyle, sans work, either paid or domestic.  
A let him.

We were wondering why we hadn't seen A for a while.  But we hoped it was a simple family matter, helping a relative, yadda, yadda, yadda.

In mid-December B popped in while we were trying to get ready for the holidays.  First he said A was missing.  We suggested calling the police.  No need to.  Police were already involved.  A had gotten a peace bond against B, who had been told to vacate the premises.  B had changed the locks.  

B also was hoping we'd escort him to our church for some fellowship.  A Christmas dinner, perhaps?

Lips quivering, B said he would leave a few days before Christmas, so A could have Christmas in his own home and invite his widowed Mom.

B then went on to talk about his heroes, the Branch Davidians, who had caused a ruckus a few years ago.  B is from Texas and likes guns and the "circle the wagons" approach.

Okay... B, not A, is still in the house.
No sign of A.

On January 13, at 8:30 pm, we heard some loud thuds coming through our living room wall.  The wall facing A's house.  
The houses in our cul de sac are close.  
About enough space to squeeze a car between them.
I looked out the window.
The snow on A's front lawn had been disturbed.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw the snub nose of B's truck.
He had backed it, wedged it, between our houses, so that it now blocks his door.
It makes quite a barricade.
The next day the mail carrier passed the house, the other neighbors shook their heads.


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