"Hey Pal, you're dog pooped in my yard again."
Bruce was being polite. Pal wasn't a demeaning term, just his neighbor's name, short for...well, Bruce didn't know exactly what it was short for. Everyone just called him Pal. So it was a cordial term. His manners, however, were useless in such disputes. He knew that and worse still, Pal knew he knew that.
Still, it was in his nature, to be compromising, to be mitigating, to always find the middle ground. That, however, was the opposite of Pal's nature.
He looked off his deck at the pile of dog crap, shook his head and scoffed, "That's not your yard Bruuuce."
Bruce missed the elongated vowel that wasn't a permanent resident in his name, but only because confusion had a stranglehold over his faculties.
"What do you mean? This is my yard. It's always been my yard, or my father's yard. It's been that way since he bought the house back in May of 1948."
Pal smiled at him as if they were in some understanding, "Yeah, it used to be your yard, but when you were gone, before your dad went into the home, we made a deal. Since he didn't need the extra space in the back yard anymore, he gave it to me, about five feet's worth."
Bruce knew his dad, everyone knew Abe. He was as compromising as the President who shared his name, as attentive to details as him too, and as honest. One thing he was always firm on though, were boundaries. His land was his pride, his home his castle. He neither mentioned the "deal" nor did he hide it, of this Bruce was sure.
"Well, my father doesn't own the home any longer and regardless of what he said, he can't make that deal. The county wouldn't allow it. They wouldn't officially sanction such a boundary change. And since there is nothing official, I'm taking this strip of land back. Clean up your dog's crap."
With the smile erased from his face, he looked down at the pile of dog poop, then back at Bruce and told him, "You won't get it back," before he turned and walked back to his house.
And thus started the war.
-- written by Brian K Hines




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