One day last year I’d finally had enough of her yakking about that stupid tree.
I came right out and told her that it was not a magnificent sycamore, it was, in reality, the ugliest tree known to man.
And you know what she said? She said I was visually challenged. Visually challenged!
This from the girl who lives in a house that’s the scourge of the neighborhood.
They’ve got bushes growing over windows, weeds sticking out all over the place, and a barnyard’s worth of animals running wild.
I’m talking dogs, cats, chickens, even snakes. I swear to God, her brothers have a boa constrictor in their room.
They dragged me in there when I was about ten and made me watch it eat a rat.
A live, beady-eyed rat. They held that rodent up by its tail and gulp, the boa swallowed it whole.
That snake gave me nightmares for a month. Anyway, normally I wouldn’t care about someone’s yard,
but the Bakers’ mess bugged my dad big-time, and he channeled his frustration into our yard.
He said it was our neighborly duty to show them what a yard’s supposed to look like.
So while Mike and Matt are busy plumping up their boa, I’m having to mow and edge our yard,
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