Small bushes lined the yard of the white house between their residences. Life In The Fast Lane, blared loudly from inside the house as Chris and Tabitha walked into the driveway. The Franklins’ house was small, with a long side porch shaded by two large trees.
Will stood in the yard cooking on the grill, drinking a Miller Genuine Draft. Chris went over and saw a small 3x3 foot fence after the grill. “Will, why do you have this little fence here?
Will sipped his beverage. “I didn’t put it up. That’s the Fasanos’. I’m just cooking near the property marker.”
Chris chuckled in response to the peculiar answer.
A little later, more guests arrived and sat on the porch, eating steaks and drinking beer while Will manned the grill. “Will, why’s that post in your yard?” asked a visitor named Donnie.
Will sat his beer down, looked at his wife and laughed a little.”Well, our neighbors, the Fasanos, ain’t friendly people.”
Chris leaned forward, wanting to hear this story.
“Ya know we’ve been living here about a month and the old man, what’s his name?
“George,” Chris reminded him.
“Yeah, George. Well, he’s okay. He’d see us in the yard and smile and wave. But his wife, Beverly, boy she’s a bitch.” He cut into the steak. “Hey, Chris, I got another rare one for ya!”
“That’s the way I like ‘em.” Chris stood up, plate in hand and walked over.
“I like makin’ ‘em that way for ya.” He jabbed a fork into it and placed the meat on Chris’s plate. “Less time I gotta spend cooking it.” Will walked to the cooler and grabbed another beer then went back to the grill. Chris patiently waited to hear the rest of the story.
“So what’s going on with the neighbors?” Donnie asked.
Will again, glanced at Laura, who sighed, shaking her head. “Almost a week after we moved in, our kids, Kevin and Kaiden were playing kickball in the yard. Guess they were playing in their yard too.” He sipped his drink. “Anyway, the ball rolled in their driveway and into the flowerbed. The witch that lives there came out and yelled at them.”
“It just rolled in the driveway?” asked Chris.
“Yeah,” he nodded. “She came out and yelled at our kids—whom she didn’t even know.”
Everyone sighed and shook their heads.
“I hear this, come out and she starts screaming at me!”
A couple guests laughed.
“She’s hollerin’ ‘keep your kids out of my yard!’ I didn’t know what the big deal was. It’s not like they were throwin’ tomatoes at the house. But Kevin and Kaiden thought they really did somethin’ wrong.”
“Then, two days later, Beverly, knocks on the door,” interjects Laura. “I answer, smiling and she pointed at the fence and yelled, ‘that’s our property marker and I don’t want your children crossing it. If they do it again, I’m calling the police!’”
“You’re kiddin’ me?” said Chris, taking a large gulp of beer. “I don’t know George that well, but he always seemed like a polite, friendly guy.”
“Oh yeah, George, he’s great,” said Donnie. “Gotta be to deal with his ball-and-chain. I’ve been out walking my dog and heard her screaming at him.”
“I had no idea she was that bad.” Chris snatched his fifth beer. “’Couple years ago, I was playin’ baseball with my son, Derek and George walked up and played catch with us.”
Will nodded. “Probably just came up to get away from his old lady. Sounds like she’s been givin’ him a hard time for years.”
They continue cooking on the grill and drinking with music blaring loudly. Suddenly a shrill siren is heard. They look to see a police car speeding along in the distance.
“Oh no, there’s trouble,” Will placed his beverage down and walked towards the sidewalk.
“What? We’re just having a good time!” yelled Chris.
Will looked back at him. “I’ll take care of this.” The patrol car pulled into the driveway and Will rushed to meet it.
Laura walked in to turn the volume down as Chris watched the two. Then he sprinted out.
“Chris!” Tabitha yelled, but he did not acknowledge her.
“Just turn the music down. No reason to have it that loud,” the officer said as Chris approached. “If I have to come back here, I’m going to cite you.” He gawked towards Chris. “I hope you don’t plan on driving tonight.”
“Hell no, I just live two houses up the road.”
“Yeah, there’s mostly just some neighbors here,” Will nervously stated. “It sounds like somebody turned down the music. Thanks, officer.”
He nodded and went back inside the vehicle.
“Why’d you thank him?” asked Chris.
“I don’t know.” He shrugged his shoulders. “For not giving me too much of a hard time.”
Chris pointed next door. “I know it was those assholes that called the cops.”
“Yeah, I’d bet my paycheck on that one.”
Will went inside the house and turned the music off.
“I’m gonna get going now,” said Donnie, finishing his beer. “Thanks a lot, Will, Laura.”
Chris sat in a daze, staring at the fence. He didn’t understand why Beverly Fasano was such a crude, miserable person. Standing up quickly and violently, he shoved the chair back. “I’m going to go see what their problem is!”
“Chris don’t!” Tabitha ordered.
“Yeah, Chris, don’t let ‘em get to ya.” Will stared at him. “We really didn’t need the music that loud anyway.”
He gazed at Will intensively. “You’re gonna deal with that? They yell at your kids, tell you you’re not welcome in their yard. They threaten to call the police on your kids and hell, they call the police on us and you’re siding with them?”
Will shook his head and stood up. “Chris, I’m not going to give them the satisfaction of letting it bother me. Yeah, they’re weird, screwed up people—but don’t let ‘em bother you.”
Chris sighed. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.” He looked at their house, then at the property marker and growled with disgust.
Not much later, everyone left the Franklins. Chris and Tabitha walked up the road and Chris’s body swerved, unable to keep balance. Tabitha helped by grabbing hold of his arm. “Tabitha, we got some good neighbors, but there’s always one bad bunch in the mix.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I know.”
Inside the house, Tabitha headed straight to bed while Chris went into the living room and turned on The Tonight Show with Jay Leno. He thought of everything that happened and his anger built. Feeling the Franklins were nice, friendly people, he wondered why anyone would want to give them a hard time. Standing up, he grunted and went into the kitchen and grabbed a bag of Snyder’s pretzels, then returned to the couch.
Munching on pretzels, he thought about what he believed the Fasanos did and on the spur of the moment, decided to pay them a visit. Putting on his boots, he exited the front door.
The street was dark as he trotted down it, anger growing. Stomping through the yard, he pulled out the property marker and hurled it at the Fasanos’ house then went to the porch. The screen door was locked, so he violently pulled on it several times, until the bolts came lose. Walking through the porch, he kicked the door open, entering the living room. The house was cool, quiet and dark as he moved forward.
“Go see what the hell that is!” Beverly yelled from the bedroom. George stepped out into the darkness with something in his hand. Chris knew it was a gun and realized the vacuous mistake he’d made. George turned to him. Expecting George to shoot, he leaped behind the sofa. But there was no fire. That didn’t reassure Chris of anything. He figured George would come around the couch and shoot where he had a good view of the intruder. Then a door opened and Beverly came out swearing. “George you ain’t good for. . .” the gun fired twice and there was a thud.
Chris rushed from the house and ran to the street as the porch light came on at the Franklins’. Gasping while bolting up the road, he knew a cop would be returning.
Justin Fleischman is a short story enthusiast, inspired by much of the work in Alfred Hitchcock and Ellery Queen Mystery Magazines. He is told his stories have surprise endings.
