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There is a clause in the HOA bylaws for everything: trash can placement, fence height, and acceptable shades of beige. There is not a clause for a neighbor who is literally the King of the Wild Hunt.
My new neighbor, Lord Oberon, is a menace. His "lawn" is a sentient briar patch that whinges when trimmed. His "garden gnomes" are actual goblins that bite the mailman. And he refuses to acknowledge the three hundred dollars in fines I've taped to his gate.
I treat our interactions as a war for the soul of the neighborhood. Oberon, apparently, treats them as foreplay.
To him, my aggressive color-coded violation notices aren't threats -- they're love letters. He thinks my refusal to back down is a mating dance. And the worst part? When I storm onto his property to demand he leash his hellhounds, he doesn't apologize.
He pins me against the non-compliant perimeter fence, grins like a wolf, and tells me I look beautiful when I'm quoting regulations.
I came here to enforce the rules, but Oberon is rewriting them. And if I'm not careful, the only thing getting violated tonight is me.
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