THE NEIGHBOURS ~ By Laurita Miller of Harbinger*33

THE NEIGHBOURS

By ~ Laurita Miller

It was disgraceful. 

Marilyn’s attention was fixed on the other side of the fence, even as she continued to pull wet clothes from the basket and attach them to the line.  

The Pattersons moved just over a year ago, into the tidy little home next door.  It was obvious that the new owners did not place emphasis on aesthetics.  The house, once lovely, had become little more than an oversized shack.  From her perch at the clothesline, Marilyn had an unfortunate view of their backyard.

The grass spread sparse and thin between patches of dirt and weeds.  Scraps of tar stained wood cluttered the far corner of the yard, propped against old buckets and boxes.  The shed door, green paint cracked and faded, hung askew on its hinges.  A rusty ladder stood against the house.  It rattled in the breeze, and in the night Marilyn would hear it clatter to the ground, only to see it back in place the next day, unused but ready.  

There had been one small attempt to improve the place.  They had constructed a flower bed with landscaping bricks and filled it with perennials.  Now the yard was littered with leftover bricks, and the stalks of last year’s plants stuck out like tiny skeletal arms, dry and broken.  

“Some sight, eh?”

Ed Grable stood on his back patio, hands shoved deep into his pockets.  “Sad what they’ve done to this place.”  He wrinkled his nose at the stench of dog droppings.

Marilyn smoothed her shirt front and shook her head.  “So much for pride of ownership.”

“Glad I’m not planning to sell anytime soon.  One look over the fence here and any prospective buyers would turn tail and run.”  Ed studied the patio railing, ran a hand over the surface.  “Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll go the way of the Mayers.”  

Marilyn looked over her shoulder, toward the slate blue bungalow down the street.  The Mayers moved in a few years ago and promptly painted the house a bright purple.  They had weekly get-togethers with loud, beer-guzzling friends and a collection of garbage raiding cats.  They were a curse on the neighbourhood.

Then one day they were gone.  Their house was empty but for a few pieces of furniture and a lone plastic flamingo in the garden.  Even the cats were gone.  

A few weeks later new owners moved in.  They restored the house to its original colour and invited the neighbours to an elegant wine and cheese meet and greet.  Perfectly normal.  Perfectly acceptable.

Marilyn nodded.  “Yes,” she said.  “Maybe we’ll be lucky.”

“Of course.  Again.”

Marilyn placed her book in her lap and raised a hand to her forehead.  She thought they would finally have a quiet evening, six o’clock and all was still.  She had barely begun the first paragraph of her book when it started – the loud, wailing bark of the Patterson’s hound dog.  

Bark, bark, bark.

Her husband, Neil, stood at the window.  “They’ve parked that van in front of our house again.”  The large paneled van, more primer than paint, was positioned squarely under the lamp post.  Neil was annoyed by the obstructed view, and horrified that someone might think the ugly thing belonged to him.  He took pride in his weed free, neatly manicured lawn.  Now no one could even see the damn thing. 

“They’re...offensive.”  Neil lowered himself into his easy chair and scowled.

“Ed Grable and I spoke about them this afternoon.  He hopes they go out like the Mayers.”  Marilyn paused, letting the thought hang between them.  

Bark, bark, bark.  

“Perhaps someone should deal with it.”

Neil sighed.  “Do you think we should go over there?”

“It’s gone on long enough.”  Bark, bark, bark.  “Yes.  I think we should.”

“Tonight?”

“Tonight.”

The doorbell was broken.  Neil knocked.  

Joe Patterson opened the door and belched. “Yeah?”

Marilyn and Neil looked at each other, then back at the distasteful creature before them.  “Mr. Patterson, I’m Neil McGuire from next door.  We’ve come to talk to you about a few matters.”

Patterson grinned, wide and mocking.  “Come to have a chat, have you?  Neighbourly.  I suppose it’s about Bud.”  He cocked his head toward the back of the house where the dog was howling.  “Can’t say I can help you there.”

Marilyn moved closer.  “Actually there are a few things.  May we come in?”

Patterson frowned, but stepped back and let them into the small foyer.  Marilyn noted that the house smelled of mothballs, and the hardwood floor was dull and scratched.

When it was apparent that they would not be invited further into the house, Neil continued.  “We do have a problem with the dog, his barking, and the smell from the backyard.  Maybe if you let him in from time to time?”

“Bud’s an outdoor dog.  Doesn’t like to be cooped up inside.”

“Well, apparently he doesn’t like to be left outside either.” Neil went on before Patterson could respond.  He kept his tone and smile friendly.  “The neighbours feel that your home and yard are not kept in a condition befitting the neighbourhood. They’re upset and are hoping you will do something to spruce up the place. ”  

“That so.”  Patterson’s frown deepened.  “Well seems like the neighbours ought to mind their own business.”  

Val Patterson came to the top of the stairs, arms crossed, brow furrowed.  She said nothing. 

“It wouldn’t take much.”  Marilyn looked around as if she hadn’t noticed the hostility.  “A few minor repairs and some cleaning up and the place would look just fine.”    

Patterson snorted.  “I don’t give a damn.  I ain’t into doing people favours.”

Neil hissed out a breath but his smile didn’t falter.  “That’s unfortunate.”  A growl rumbled in his chest.  

Friendly, neighbourly smiles grew long and wide, sharp teeth dripping and snapping.   

“We do so regret dealing with uncooperative neighbours,” snarled the thing that was Marilyn.  

Patterson opened his mouth as his neighbours closed in.  

His throat was gone before he could scream.

Marilyn and Neil enjoyed every minute.  It had been a long time since the Mayers.

“Hi, Ed.  Just wanted to drop by with these treats I baked.”  Marilyn smiled and offered the tin of cinnamon raisin cookies.

“Thanks.  That’s neighbourly of you.”  He nodded toward the moving truck next door.  “Looks like we’ve got some fresh blood coming in.  That was strange how the Pattersons up and left, huh?”

“Very.  They even left poor Bud here chained out back.”  Marilyn patted the old hound’s head.

“Well, he’s got a good home with you.  And no more barking.”  He smiled down at the dog.  “There’s something to be said for good neighbours.”

Marilyn stepped out onto the walkway.  A bright patch of yellow near the edge of the path caught her eye.  Dandelions.

“Yes,” she said absently.  “Good Neighbours.” 

(c) 2010, Author Laurita Miller

And to think I've been liking Laurita so much I was thinking of putting a bid in on that place up the street from her, you know the place, the old Jinkers' house. Whoops - wrong story but our Double*Feature Author Laurita Miller never has a wrong story to bring a crooked grin deep within. 

Tantalizingly talented Laurita Miller is stranded on a rocky island in the North Atlantic.  She enjoys writing in the dark and walking through revolving doors (and it’s rumored she once dated Poe). (Raven rumours are flying).  Her work has been featured at Gloom Cupboard, Six Sentences, Flashes in the Dark, and will appear in several anthologies, including the upcoming Harbinger*33.  Need to read more Laurita? Sure you do! Check out some of her recent writes at The BIJOU Showcase Show*Off Wall, over to the right. And, she inimitably blogs right here: Brain Droppings.

Thanks Laurita for knocking on the stage door to ask for a good home AT THE BIJOU for the debut of THE NEIGHBOURS. You said you were looking for adoption. Readers here of our strong growing global following will take you into their homes and hearts as well. They may be a little shaky, but that's natural. (You're that scary). 

~ Absolutely*Kate and the staff of renown, currently out front weeding the shrubs ~ AT THE BIJOU