Harold was a packrat who loved to pile up junk. He had seven old cars in his yard, some up on blocks and some with trees and vines growing through them. He had a collection of old tires that produced a whole summer’s worth of mosquitos in a week. There was also a heap five feet high of car parts, washing machines, liquor bottles, and beer cans that adorned the front lawn. This was an ideal home for various snakes, rats, and spiders, who lived happily within the pile.
And, in fact, right behind his double-wide was a huge mound of garbage that he’d not had time nor inclination to haul off to the city dump since nineteen sixty four. But none of this bothered Harold one bit.
A six-foot hedge separated his property from Elwood’s next door. He was so nosey that it infuriated him not to be able to see what Elwood was doing at all hours of the day and night. He would routinely give it a kick or two when he passed by, and every now and then, he’d consider spraying it down with weed killer, but that would be too obvious. And when he got around to mowing what was left of his lawn, he’d shove the mower up under there just far enough to cut back the runners.
Finally, Elwood got tired of Harold’s assaults on his hedge and went storming over there one afternoon. Now, Harold was a tall, thin man who would argue with anyone, anytime, or anywhere. When he saw Elwood coming across the yard in a huff, he bowed up right away. Elwood was a short, plump hothead with a beet red face. When he showed up on Harold’s porch, he fairly exploded with wild gestures and inventive cuss words.
Harold was ready with his smart comebacks, but Elwood was talking so fast Harold couldn’t quite get the gist of what he was yelling about. Every time he opened his mouth, Elwood raged even louder. So Harold just shook his fist and gave him dirty looks until he wound down. Out of breath and shaking with frustration, Elwood stomped back over to his place with one final fierce look. Harold just shook his head and went inside, thinking up ways to attack the evil hedge.
When Elwood got back to his own territory, he kicked over an old, rusty gas can. Which caused a part of an ancient table saw to fall over into a wood pile, which collapsed right onto Elwood’s front walkway. This made him so furious, he punched a dent in the side of a stove that was full of rainwater. It was so rusty, it broke through and soaked Elwood’s new boots, which made him even madder. In his frenzy, he didn’t notice a rolled up bunch of hogwire and lost his balance when his toe got caught up in it. By the time he made it safely through the various discarded objects, he was thoroughly exhausted and collapsed on the couch.
A couple of days later, Harold’s curiosity got the better of him and he came strolling up to Elwood’s house. “What was you trying to tell me the other day?” he asked.
“Stop butchering my hedge!” hollered Elwood angrily.
“Ugliest hedge I ever saw. Why don’t you cut that thing down?” retorted Harold.
“Because,” said Elwood as he kicked over a worn out hot water heater, “I don’t want to have to look at all that junk in your yard!”
