by CORIANDER NEUMANEIMANAYMANEEMAMANN, Alternate Reality News Service Urban Issues Writer
When life gives you Legos, make Lego aid.
Ron Relation (no…umm…) was walking along Cherry Beach when he stepped on an ouchie. Lifting his foot, he discovered a purple Lego brick embedded in his sole (his sandals made of fish were poor insulation against the ouchie). Pocketing the small plastic brick, he continued on his way. Not three steps later (okay, four), he stepped on another Lego. And another. And another. Soon, Relation was prancing along the beach like a plaid piper (he got his clothes from IllWill, so he couldn’t be choosy).
Several hours later (okay, three and a half), Relation’s sandals were destroyed, so he sat down and had lunch. Then, the unhoused man used the small, multicoloured bricks to start building a home for himself on the beach. When it was completed a few months later (okay, six, but it felt like only five and twenty-nine thirtieths), the building looked like a single storey psychedelic barn.
According to Relation, there were problems using waterlogged construction materials to build his house. “Some of the open bottles in the wine cellar turned to vinegar,” he told me. “While this paired them well with my shoes, it did not make for the ideal quaff.”
Relation gave me a tour of his Lego home on the beach, which did not include the second story (“I’m two bricks short of a retaining wall – and I’m not being euphemistic!”), but it did include the games room, which was cramped with its billiards table and three classic pinball games, and the kitchen, where Relation offered me sandal almandine. Fortunately, I was on duty, so I declined. When I commented that the building looked bigger on the inside than the outside, Relation responded: “I use a lot of mirrors to make the space look bigger than it is.”
The building materials for this project came from the Great Lego Spill of ’77. They had drifted in the Atlantic for decades (okay, four and a half – in other words, a long time) before finally washing ashore over the last several (okay, a few) weeks.
“It’s the ultimate DYI house!” gushed Phillip “Buster” Largo, host of HomeTV’s Extreme Masonry (there really is a reality TV series about everything!). “It’s so DYI, it’s practically DOA!”
I…I’m not sure what that meant, but Largo’s enthusiasm really sold it.
People who live near Cherry Beach started complaining that Relation’s building was an eyesore that endangered the value of their homes; some of the more honest ones admitted that they were jealous of the solarium. Their complaints reached City Councillor Dominique de la Palaquin, who responded, “Another reason to persecute unhoused people? Oh, yes, please!”
de la Palaquin introduced a motion in City Council forbidding anybody from erecting a building on city property made out of “substandard materials.” To make it look like she was being evenhanded, de la Palaquin defined substandard materials as “Dover sole or Legos.”
Oddly enough, nobody was fooled.
Unfortunately for those whose childhood was colourful building blocks deprived, local businesses came to the defence of the structure, claiming that it had become a vital tourist attraction rivalling the Pukka Orchestra Cherry Beach Express Tour. Torn between two imperatives, City Council dithered. It’s very good at dithering. It has a lot of dithering experience. It’s a ditherer.
There the matter may have rested if not for realtor Mimi Barcoach, who fell in love with the property. “It’s a fixer-upper, for sure,” she stated, “but the materials offer themselves up for free, which is unusual. And, anyway, I like the way mirrors seem to make the space look bigger than it is.”
Barcoach listed the property for $1.5 million and a lemon wedge. A couple of minutes later (okay, two), the building sold for $1.9 million and a crate of lemons to an unnamed Asian millionaire. “You can garnish a lot of sole with that!” Barcoach crowed.
With the money he made from the sale of his Lego house, Relation bought a condo on King. Compared to what he left behind, it feels cramped: the library has been reduced to a single bookshelf and the condo does not contain a medical ward. Still, Relation is grateful that he no longer has to deal with City Council.
“The dithering was keeping me up at night,” he explained. “I never knew dithering could be so loud!”