The Parents have been talking about moving for approximately ten years. We assumed they would never actually move because their standards are so high. They are looking for the perfect home. Basically, they will only move into the exact house they have right now but with smaller dimensions and zero stairs.
They actually found the perfect home a few months back. They put a low bid on it, and the people didn’t bite. This prompted my parents to, gasp, put their house on the market!
Allegedly there is a sign on the lawn and everything.
In order to put their house on the market, The Parents had a lot of preparation to do. They had to paint the walls and make a million trips to “the dump” and hide knick-knacks and tend to the lawn. Much to the dismay of The Evil Neighbors who love privacy, Father took down the eye sore that was The Fence from the back yard. He also, in a rare display of cuteness, painted Mother’s statue of St. Someone-or-Other that resided in the backyard.
The statue, which has been in the backyard for who knows how long (I had never noticed it), had apparently become quite grimy through the years. It is, apparently, a real statue - heavy, with a pedestal.
Father said “I have a surprise for you!” and showed Mother the beautiful white statue. She was excited, because she is quite fond of her statue since St. Someone-or-Other is her very favorite saint.
Fast forward two weeks. Father, in a further effort to beautify the lawn, found himself ready to do some work involving grass near the statue.
But there was no statue!
Father said “Mother, did you move the statue?”
“No. Why?”
“No, really, did you?”
“No, why? Isn’t she there?”
“No, she’s not.”
This precipitated the usual paranoia. Mother said “I know who did this! It was The Evil Neighbors!” We’ve grown accustomed to hearing about The Evil Neighbors. The Parents are nice people who keep to themselves. They are good neighbors. They make no noise, they maintain a tight ship, they are pleasant to interact with. The Evil Neighbors have been cross with The Parents ever since The Parents put a porch off the side of their kitchen fifteen years ago which, apparently, got too close to The Evil Neighbors’ yard.
Hence, The Fence.
“This is because we took down the fence!” she said.
The Parents thought about things and concluded that it wasn’t kids. Why would kids steal a statue? If kids were responsible, they would have vandalized it or just knocked it over. In addition, how would kids have even known about the statue? It was in the backyard and, until recently, hidden behind a fence. And what would kids want with a statue, anyway? If their goal was vandalism, why steal an obscure statue of St. Someone-or-Other when there are clearly bigger targets? And why such a heavy target? It couldn’t be the work of a small person. It would have probably required premeditation of some sort, and a mechanism of transport from the property.
Throughout the years, Father has said things like “I don’t know how he lives with her” about Mr. Evil Neighbor, who isn’t really that evil. “I say hi to her and she just ignores me! She glares at me!” he’d say.
The most recent drama with The Evil Neighbors was when Mr. Evil Neighbor walked over and said “Are you taking down The Fence?” “Yes,” replied Father. “Well, you’re putting up another one, right?” “No,” said Father. Mr. Evil Neighbor walked away without saying a word. This prompted Mrs. Evil Neighbor to start building a stone wall to protect her yard from The Parents’ yard.
“But Mother, what sort of grown person would steal a statue? That’s just too deranged!”
“I know it was her! She’s evil! She’s capable of this! She would!!!!”
Mother said “Look, I just know she took it. I just have this feeling. And I know what she would have done with it, too. She’s out there building a stone wall. She’s out there piling leaves and dirt and whatever other gardening stuff she has into her wheelbarrow. She usually goes and dumps it all in that field across from the Smith’s house – you remember that, right? – I bet she waited until she saw me leave the house, stole the statue because now its white and she can see it and can’t stand it, put it into her evil wheelbarrow, dumped it in that field and buried it.”
Right. Suburban paranoia.
Mother voiced this prediction to Father, who, also believing that The Evil Neighbors are evil enough to do something like this, said “Why don’t I just go take a look in the field, then? I’ll just look around a little.”
“No, no,” Mother said, making a million excuses about why that was not a good idea. She was tired, there were other things to do at home, etc.
“But we’re in the car,” he said, because they were in the car, “and we’re about to drive by it! I’m just going to look.”
“No, no,” she said, but Father, being the focused and unbending person that he is, pulled over anyway and just left her in the car.
Mother, most likely mortified, waited for about two minutes and then saw, about 300 feet away, Father’s arms raise in the air and noticed that, above his head, was a white object.
And the white object was, of course, the statue of St. Someone-or-Other, buried, as predicted.
The two of them picked up the statue and put it in the car. The first thing they did was put the statue of St. Someone-or-Other on a table on the porch, opened the blinds, and faced it towards The Evil Neighbors’ house so that The Evil Neighbors would know that The Parents know.
I was so proud of The Parents for doing that, until they told me that they ended up taking it off the table about five minutes later because they felt guilty. And because they were also afraid of what The Evil Neighbors could be capable of beyond this. The put St. Someone-or-Other in the garage and waited.
Now.
My question to you is: What should The Parents do?
Father said “I want to get a giant crucifix – life size – and put it in our lawn, staring right into hers. I just want to mess with that bitch.” Hah.
Mother said “I’m just afraid of doing anything because we’re not sure that it’s definitely them and because what if they did do it and they do something else?”
I said “Well, you have to call the police.” She had a million excuses for why this was a bad idea, but I was like “Dudes, seriously, on the off chance that they do indeed do something else, you have to get this on record. You don’t have to tell them you dug up the statue. You just have to say that someone stole something off your lawn.”
I am distressed, because I don’t think The Evil Neighbors should just get away with this. The Parents have to do something. The Evil Neighbors, evilness aside, broke laws. Trespassing, vandalism, theft.
It crossed my mind, as I thought about this as though it were a bad evening soap opera, that maybe Mother buried the St. Someone-or-Other herself, but what would be the motive? And, even if she had motive, there’s no way Mother could have carried St. Someone-or-Other to the field.
A friend suggested that The Parents should buy a bunch of hideous statues and put them where St. Someone-or-Other used to be, and hopefully that will annoy The Evil Neighbors. They could install hidden cameras, hoping that The Evil Neighbors would also take the ugly statues.
I said “I want them to put a bunch of ugly statues on The Evil Neighbor’s lawn!”
“I want them to spell out ‘We know what you did!’ with garden gnomes!”
“I want them to somehow find a way to guarantee that a family with six kids under age ten moves into their house and that all of those ten kids’ toys end up on the lawn!”
They must be caught! Or at least toyed with.
Does anyone have any ideas?
Anyone, anyone?
I can’t get over this. It’s like something out of a bad movie about suburbia. I can’t believe grown people behave like this. Mrs. Evil Neighbor is deranged. Seriously deranged. And what makes them think that they can get away with this? They should not get away with this!
Crazy.
