Elmer, a quiet, respectable man, stood before the vast expanse that was his lawn and shook his head.
The lawn was torn, tire tracks running through it in curves, circles, figure-eights. Someone had clearly had a good time last night, but now Elmer had a job before him.
Instead of tackling the job, though, Elmer sat down on his porch, took his portable phone, and called up Kevin.
“Kevin,” Elmer said, after the peremptory hellos. “Have you seen my lawn?”
“I’m looking at it right now,” Kevin said. Elmer looked across the street and waved. From his second-floor window, Kevin waved back.
“Can you believe it?”
“I can’t,” Kevin said. “Terrible thing, I’m sorry Elmer.”
“Thanks. I’m going to call the police, when they open, and give them a piece of my mind. Where were they, when this nonsense was going on?”
“Where were you?”
“What?” Elmer said. “Where do you think, I was asleep! Where the hell were you?”
“Also asleep, you old fart!”
“Well, glad we settled that then,” Elmer settled down. “Still, it’s their job to protect our property, so what the hell happened?”
“Good question. You give ’em hell, Elmer.”
“I will. Also, looks like they got a bit of your lawn, too,” Elmer said, spotting a small curve of brown just at the front of Kevin’s property.”
“What?” Kevin shouted. “This is bullshit, I’m calling and complaining. I’ll sue the whole damn city for this outrage!” Kevin slammed down the phone.
Through the window, Elmer could see his friend flipping through the yellow pages. He started to dial the police himself, hopeful he would beat Kevin to it.