This one time, while I was working on my lawn,
I completely destroyed a series of really impressive anthills with a weedwacker.
What I learned that day was that there is a very fine line
Between a responsible groundskeeper
And a weapon of mass destruction.
My prayers go to the tiny ant families
Who lost their loved ones at ground zero,
The patch of dirt next to the mailbox
Of 1420 South Sioux Drive.
I hear they’re gonna build them again,
Even bigger than before,
As a show of collective ant spirit.
You go, little buddies, you go.
This…
Is exactly the kind of crap
That keeps my neighbors from talking to me.
But this,
Is the perfect amount of pause for me
To patrol the border fence of my back yard
And make friends.
And in order to do so,
I have to fight the incredible urge
To make these jokes
Because I live in Kansas,
The land of cigarettes,
Needlessly oversized trucks,
And an 80% divorce rate.
Where, in case you forget what country you’re in,
There are reminders plastered on every
Bumper,
Window,
Flagpole,
Mailbox,
Postage stamp,
Jacket lapel,
Dumpster,
Gas pump,
CHEVY DEALERSHIP,
Chinese takeout bag…
Places that would be left bare,
Until 12 Septembers ago.
And yes, you heard that last one correctly.
There’s nothing more American than a Chinese buffet.
But I can’t share any of this with my neighbors,
Because they fly their flags proudly,
As well they should,
While staring at me and the Union Jack
I fly in my bedroom window
And on the front bumper of my FlexFuel Eco-Friendly Taurus,
The same way Kansas City Royals fans
Stare at me in my New York Yankees cap,
And I have to give them both the same explanation,
That I’m all for the home team,
But I prefer to support a team that knows what they’re doing.
But I love Jesus,
And that seems to break the ice just fine.
That one massive detail is what transforms the conversation,
The way only that name can.
It changes me into a fellow human,
Rather than,
“The guy who drinks green tea,
Smokes a weird-lookin’ pipe,
And plays his computer music too damn loud.”
I promise, I’m not all bad,
And the more I talk to these people,
The more I find that neither are they.
Brian.
He put a blue plastic tarp over his fence
Because he thought his dogs bothered me.
The truth is, I love dogs. We get along nicely.
He’s trying to bring his front yard back to life in time for Summer.
So Casey and I gave him some Weed & Feed we weren’t gonna use.
He wishes my next-door neighbor would quit draining his fuckin’ pool
Into his back yard.
I… don’t think I can help there.
But it’s something to talk about,
And that’s all we really needed to do to overcome our differences.
Talk.
And at the end of our hilariously anachronistic chat,
He thanks me from the bottom of his menthol filter,
Gives me a vice-grip handshake,
And goes back to inspecting his bellybutton.
I like these people.
I still don’t know if they need assault rifles,
But I like them.
