Unreasonable neighbors.

Kylin Vandermeer
Nov 26, 2018 · 3 min read

A couple hours of just me, the tv, cold beer and the game. No questions, no requests, no please take the garbage out Ted, no please stop the neighbor’s dog from barking Ted, no why are we missing 200 dollars from your last paycheck Ted. But no, they’re in the kitchen right behind me. The three hens. Clucking rumors and drinking all while standing around the granite counter top eating zero calorie snacks that are entirely flavorless.

“It really is intolerable isn’t it?” Cadence says, and I don’t need to see her to, know nothing above her nose is moving. Too much Botox for her face to match the irritation in her voice.

And the other team scores. We’re tied. Dammit those boys better pick up their game.

“Oh what happened this time?” My wife asks and I don’t need to see her to know she’s leaning in.

“Well,” Mariana says, voice high and shrill just like the dumb-ass dog she keeps in her purse. “You know that new couple? The one with the teenage boy always mowing the lawn without a shirt.”

“Reynold’s kid?” Wife asks, probably blushing a little.

Who doesn’t know about him. Little show off oils himself first. Course, I’d be doing the exact same if I had that body too. And that’s another ball in the wrong net, and I’m out beer. Which means going through the coop.

“Well, it turns out it wasn’t the teenager that’s been coming home at all hours playing trashy music. It was Reynold!” Cadence says, and gives her harpy laugh. “And he’s the one that took out your mail box.”

I made that mailbox. It was a miniature of our house and it hadn’t just been hit, it was run over, and then backed over again.

“The nerve.” Wife puts her glass down hard enough to clink on the counter. “Wasn’t he the one that showed up drunk to the neighborhood BBQ? And mooned the mayor?”

Yeah but that was funny. Shit. That’s another score for the wrong team. Come on!

“Well that’s not the whole story; turns out he’d had some late night rendezvous with the mayors daughter to.” Cadence said, and I can easily picture that evil little smile.

“But she’s barely legal!” Mariana gasped.

Right, like you didn’t know that. And twenty-five is not barely legal. And commercial break.

“Like I said, intolerable. And that gaudy thing he put in the front lawn this morning. Someone needs to deal with that.”

Yeah 8 feet tall is a bit much for a garden gnome.

“Someone should do something,” Mariana says, ice tinkling against glass.

The wife says, “The home owners association has already given him plenty of warnings. And George confronted him about the gnome. Nothing came of it; apparently there aren’t any by-laws!”

“So maybe it’s time for something more … final.” Cadence’s voice takes a low threatening tone. “He doesn’t fit and he won’t leave. That gnome was the last straw.”

“And who’s going to do something then?” The wife asks. “And what?”

“Well your husband’s a marksman isn’t he?”

It’s only fair after what he did to the mailbox.


Kylin Vandermeer

Written by

Writer, artist, occasional philosopher, student and reader. Seeking escape from the mundane through art, knowledge and deeper thinking.

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