The Yard War

Above: An Actor Playing Alan Black Is Rubbish in the The Yard War in a Future Hollywood Blockbuster

The Yard War had to be fought. The road to war started with the lawn. The lawn at the front of the house was dead. The trash collector was first to notice the crime against the suburbs ~ You killed that lawn, he said, The guy who owned this house before you moved in took good care of it. He mowed every week, watered the green. It was beautiful, a special lawn, the best in the neighborhood. I was shocked. Condemned by the trash collector. I didn't know what to say, so I just said this ~ Can you just do your fucking job and dump the trash talk. From then on, on trash collection day, he threw my trashcan down on my driveway in a violent manner.

This judgement triggered dreams of the dead lawn. I dreamt of the Lawn Ranger riding into my street like an avenger. He lassoed me and dragged me behind his horse through the suburb, suburban Americans spat at me and threw cans of Coke at my head, screaming you fucking Scottish barbarian. Then the hedge started to die, parched from lush green to corpse brown, the leaves yellowed and rotted weeping from the branches. The neighbors stared daggers.

I had a plan. It was too late for the lawn but if I set up a Hedge Fund I may be able to find investors to save the hedge. My neighbors likely had pension funds and assets in the equity markets. I planned to set up a Patreon Page and make a short film called the Hedge Fund - a feel-good investment opportunity for a neglected hedge that needs your dollars. But the hedge died before I could launch my IPO. I wondered if the neighbors were willing to hedge their bets as to what piece of green would die next. Two small trees that had been planted by the previous owner as a gift to the new homeowner ~ me ~ died next. The neighbor with the Save The Amazon decal on her Tesla shot me a look of pure hatred. The garden I had taken over was rapidly becoming a fossil fueled by a Scottish barbarian that failed to understand that a green lawn and garden were fertile symbols of American triumph. Property values declined when one house in the neighborhood fell into disrepute.

The doom spread. The back yard sought revenge for the scorched earth I had inflicted on its fellow patch at the front. Thus began the long war ~ The Battle of the Vines came first. I figured Tom Hanks could play me in the film version...to be discontinued