Good Neighbors



I first realized I was living next to the “Hitler” family,

when they complained about my wind chimes

made out of metal garbage can lids.


They say that good fences make good neighbors,

so I had a small electrified containment pen built

and rounded them all up and put them in the pen.

But before I could brand them,

they escaped through the dudgeon door.


The paper boy threw their paper and it landed on my lawn.

When the federal law enforcement arrived

they seemed powerless to do anything.

Though one did pick up the paper and move it 6 inches,

so it was on my neighbor’s lawn.

I envied his training.


Although they were not “peeping Toms” one of them was named Tom, which confirmed my suspicions and made me hate them even more.


In the middle of the night I slipped in

and shaved off their mustaches.


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