Duke Out On Dacre

My street has been a construction site for ten years.


Older homes are coming down and giant, new colosseses are being erected. Dr. Joe lives at the foot of the street. He's an archeologist, specializing in Greek civilization. He says he recognizes the style of one the new places. He unearthed a mausoleum that looked exactly like it.


Everybody's mad on Dacre Crescent. I guess, after ten years, people have hit construction fatigue. It's no wonder. One of the neighbors cut stone on his front lawn for over six months. He only stopped when the investigative reporters from our weekly shopper caught wind of the dust cloud that enveloped the street.


Nine houses have been renovated on our street of 30 homes. There are three more coming. Each renovation –a rebuild really– has averaged 14 months. A couple of the projects lasted 26 months.


The police have been called, the city, and province have been petitioned. Neighbors have hired lawyers and taken each other to court. There are lobbies and lawsuits.


Meanwhile, the trucks roll in and the trucks roll out. The banging starts at 7 and goes to 7.


From my home office window, I have seen red-faced neighbors almost come to blows with the people who live next to them, or with contractors.


My solution to all the animosity hasn't caught on yet, but I think it has some merit. It's called "Duke Out On Dacre." The idea is elegant, if I do say so myself.


Every Friday night, there should be a wrestling ring erected at the end of the street. Battling neighbors would then duke it out to settle their differences. You could have weight classes, tag teams, and mens and womens events. Even a cage match or two.


I draw the line at weapons, although I might consider the odd chair, thrown into the ring for drama.


Yes, Duke Out On Dacre has legs. A reality show would follow.


And people would think twice about construction.


© Patrick O’Neill 2011. All rights reserved.

Posted on April 27, 2011 and filed under Uncategorized.