The Talented Mr. Scully

          Mr. Vernon Scully held a very unusual job. This suited him well as he himself was a very unusual man. An “odd duck,” some called him, although never knowingly within earshot of Mr. Scully. In Barbersville—where he lived—Mr. Scully was a well-known man. He wasn’t known well by those who knew him but most everybody in Barbersville at least knew of him, which made him well-known.

          In addition, Mr. Scully was well-liked. The reason for that was simple enough. Many Sundays per season—when the weather co-operated—he would extend a more than generous offer to the people of Barbersville to join him and his small family for a hugely festive open-pit barbecue gathering in his own back yard. Mr. Scully’s backyarders (as they became known) started off with only a few brave neighbours in the early days but eventually grew in reputation until there was nearly no person in Barbersville who could say they hadn’t been to one.

          The backyard assemblies at Mr. Scully’s became so popular that people often ensured that visits from relatives were co-ordinated to coincide with them, if they so happened to be planned and announced enough in advance.  The out-of-town reviews were always as enthusiastic as those from native Barbersvillers. Town people, furthermore, felt a genuine sadness if ever it happened (as it did from time to time) that, for one reason or another, they could not attend.

          “Sorry I missed that one, Vern. Some day, huh?” was a typical comment by anyone who had been a non-attendant at the recent backyarder and happened to cross paths with Mr. Scully during the week following one of his celebrated (for that is what they became) forgatherings.

          In the course of his very unusual job, Mr. Scully did not encounter many people. This was far from being the result of Mr. Scully’s aversion to human contact during the course of his day. His famous backyarders easily spoke to Mr. Scully’s preference for human propinquity. It was a simple particular of Mr. Scully’s occupation that he met so few people. And, truth be told, it made his job much easier when no one else was around. From time to time, however, one distraught person or possibly a whole shivering family awaited him on the graveled roadside while he went about his duties. These occasions were not happy for Mr. Scully.

          Mr. Scully owned a simple bungalow near the western edge of Barbersville. In it, along with himself, lived his wife—who did not work in anyone else’s employ save her own—and their daughter, who was six years old. The main highway swerved to avoid the town only five hundred yards from his large property. It was there, at the highway’s arch, on most mornings that Mr. Scully began his day’s work.

          Since the highway did not actually enter the town limits of Barbersville at any point—circumventing its limits in a perfectly symmetrical loop—technically it could be said that Mr. Scully did not work in Barbersville. It could not be questioned, nevertheless, that he lived in Barbersville. And though his residence was simple—brown, brick and stone—Mr. Scully’s property was magnificent. His virid lawn spread out by gentle lush slopes to the rear of his house, descending temperately a few hundred feet to a flatter, predominantly beryl-green landing.  It continued on from there, rolling tactfully to an obdurate tree line seventy-five additional feet away. Here Mr. Scully had solitarily constructed three enormous open-pit cooking areas. To him these were high-security districts in which extremely vital preparations occurred concerning the meal which was served to his guests at each of his famous assemblies; the success of the meal being the major element which dictated, in Mr. Scully’s judgment, the success of the entire affair.

          In addition to having a very unusual job, Mr. Scully was a man of extreme precision in all things. If measured, the three enormous open-pit cooking areas would be found to be of exactly identical dimensions. And specifications. Fastidious was an apt word to describe Mr. Scully’s agenda when it came to food preparation. While Mr. Scully was consistently gracious in accepting the helping hands of the people of Barbersville when it came time to set up tables and chairs and lay out cutlery, he was very adamant about being the only person allowed to operate the cooking pits—no exceptions or exemptions. Mr. Scully was the lone flame cook and, so far as anyone knew, no person had ever been behind those pits to help him prepare the feast.