Marvin Penson stood at attention on his meticulously manicured front lawn, clipboard in hand, surveying the neighborhood with the stern gaze of a military commander. His eyes narrowed as he spotted a moving truck rumbling down Maple Lane, kicking up dust and scattering leaves across freshly mowed grass.
“Unacceptable,” he muttered, making a note to send a strongly worded email to the moving company about proper road etiquette in residential areas.
The truck came to a stop in front of number 42, the long-vacant house across the street. Marvin watched with growing dismay as a whirlwind of activity erupted. Movers began unloading an eclectic assortment of furniture and boxes, many adorned with peace signs and tie-dye patterns. But it was the new homeowner herself who really made Marvin’s perfectly trimmed mustache twitch in alarm.
She emerged from a beat-up Volkswagen van, a riot of wild curls framing a face split by an enormous grin. Her flowing skirt swirled around ankles adorned with jangling silver bells as she danced up the walkway, bare feet leaving faint impressions in the pristine lawn.
Marvin strode across the street, plastering on his best “welcome to the neighborhood” smile. “Good morning!” he called out. “I’m Marvin Penson, president of the Maple Lane Homeowners Association. And you are…?”
The woman spun to face him, eyes sparkling. “Hey there, neighbor! I’m Tina. Tina Jexyen. But everyone calls me Tij.” She stuck out a hand covered in colorful rings and friendship bracelets.
Marvin shook it gingerly. “Well, Ms. Jexyen—”
“Just Tij, please.”
“…Tij. Welcome to Maple Lane. I’m sure you’ll find our community to be a peaceful, well-maintained oasis. Speaking of which, I noticed you walking on the grass. We do try to keep our lawns in top condition, so if you could use the sidewalk—”
Tij’s nose wrinkled. “Oh, yeah, about that. I’m actually super allergic to grass. Was thinking of ripping it all out, maybe putting in a rock garden or something.”
Marvin felt the blood drain from his face. “I… I beg your pardon?”
“A rock garden!” Tij’s eyes lit up. “With a little zen fountain, some cool crystals… Oh! And I could build a sweat lodge in the backyard!”
Marvin’s clipboard clattered to the ground. He stooped to retrieve it, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “Ms. Jex— Tij. I’m afraid there are certain… standards we maintain here on Maple Lane. Any major landscaping changes need to be approved by the HOA board. And I can assure you, a rock garden would not be in keeping with the aesthetic of our neighborhood.”
Tij’s smile dimmed slightly. “Oh. Well, we’ll have to chat about that. I really can’t have grass, though. Sets off my allergies something fierce.”
A commotion from the moving truck drew their attention. One of the movers was struggling with an enormous canvas, and as he turned, Marvin caught a glimpse of the painting. His eyes bulged at the sight of a very nude, very colorful representation of what appeared to be a fertility goddess.
“Careful with Mama Earth!” Tij called out. “She’s delicate!”
Marvin tugged at his collar, feeling a stress headache coming on. “Yes, well… perhaps we should schedule a meeting to go over the HOA guidelines. There are quite a few regulations you’ll need to familiarize yourself with.”
“Sure, sure,” Tij said distractedly, already moving to help with her prized painting. “Stop by anytime. Mi casa es su casa!”
Marvin beat a hasty retreat back to his own perfectly normal, perfectly regulation-abiding home. He needed to call an emergency HOA meeting. Immediately.
Old Man Wilkins was not pleased to be roused from his afternoon nap by Marvin’s insistent knocking. He opened the door with a scowl that could curdle milk.
“What in tarnation do you want, Penson?” he growled.
Marvin stood ramrod straight, unfazed by the old man’s prickly demeanor. “Emergency HOA meeting, Mr. Wilkins. New neighbor. Potential code violations. Your attendance is required.”
Wilkins’ rheumy eyes narrowed. “That flibbertigibbet who moved in across from you? What’s she done now, planted daisies instead of petunias?”
“Worse,” Marvin said gravely. “She wants to remove her lawn entirely. Put in a… a rock garden.” He spat out the words like they tasted foul.
To Marvin’s surprise, a gleam of interest sparked in the old man’s eyes. “A rock garden, you say? Hmph. Well, I suppose I could drag myself to this meeting of yours. When and where?”
“My house, 7 PM sharp. Don’t be late.” Marvin turned on his heel, missing the sly smile that crept across Wilkins’ weathered face.
By 7:05, Marvin’s living room was packed with concerned homeowners, all murmuring about the potential threat to their property values. Marvin called the meeting to order with three sharp raps of his gavel.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we face an unprecedented crisis,” he began. “Our new neighbor, Ms. Jexyen, has expressed a desire to fundamentally alter the landscape of Maple Lane. If we allow this rock garden to proceed, who knows what chaos might follow? Vegetable patches in front yards? Wind chimes on every porch? Pink flamingos as far as the eye can see?”
A collective gasp rose from the assemblage.
“Therefore,” Marvin continued, “I propose we institute mandatory weekly lawn mowing for all residents. This will ensure our neighborhood maintains its reputation for impeccable green spaces, and hopefully discourage any… alternative landscaping ideas.”
The room erupted in a cacophony of voices. Some homeowners nodded vigorously, while others protested the additional work. Old Man Wilkins, to everyone’s shock, actually raised his hand to speak.
“Now see here, Penson,” he said, his gruff voice cutting through the chatter. “Some of us have better things to do than push a noisy contraption around every week. My prize roses need tending, and I won’t neglect them for your grass fetish.”
Marvin’s face reddened. “Mr. Wilkins, surely you of all people understand the importance of maintaining our community standards. And need I remind you, your roses have been looking a bit… lackluster lately. Perhaps more attention to your lawn would benefit your entire garden.”
Wilkins’ bushy eyebrows drew together in a fearsome scowl, but before he could retort, a new voice chimed in.
“Hey, neighbors! Sorry I’m late to the party!”
All heads turned to see Tij standing in the doorway, a plate of cookies balanced on one hand and a crystal the size of a grapefruit in the other.
“I brought snickerdoodles and a chunk of rose quartz for good vibes,” she said, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the room. “So, what’d I miss?”
Marvin cleared his throat. “Ms. Jexyen, this is a closed HOA meeting. I’m afraid you’ll have to—”
“Oh, but I’m a homeowner now!” Tij interrupted cheerfully. “That means I get a vote, right? And please, it’s just Tij.”
She plopped down on the floor next to Old Man Wilkins’ chair, offering him a cookie. To everyone’s amazement, he took one with a gruff nod of thanks.
“Now then,” Tij continued, “I couldn’t help overhearing something about mandatory mowing? That’s not gonna work for me, I’m afraid. Grass and I don’t get along. But I had the coolest idea for a community garden instead! We could all grow veggies together, maybe set up a little farmer’s market…”
The room exploded into chaos once more. Marvin banged his gavel frantically, trying to regain control. In the commotion, no one noticed Old Man Wilkins slip out the back door, a thoughtful frown creasing his weathered face.
The next morning, Maple Lane awoke to tragedy. Old Man Wilkins’ prized roses, the envy of the neighborhood for decades, had withered overnight. The once-vibrant blooms hung limp and brown on their stems, as if they’d been blasted by an unseen force.
Wilkins stood in his front yard, staring at the devastation with tears in his rheumy eyes. A small crowd of neighbors had gathered, murmuring sympathetically.
“I just don’t understand,” he kept repeating. “They were fine yesterday. Fit as fiddles, they were.”
Marvin pushed his way to the front, clipboard at the ready. “Now, now, let’s not jump to conclusions. I’m sure there’s a perfectly logical explanation. Perhaps a pest infestation, or an overzealous application of fertilizer.”
Tij, who had been examining the plants closely, straightened up with a frown. “I don’t think so, Marvin. Look at how evenly they’re all affected. This wasn’t any natural cause.”
“And what would you know about it?” Marvin snapped. “I suppose you think it was negative energy from misaligned crystals?”
Tij’s eyes narrowed. “I know more than you might think, Mr. Penson. And I know deliberate sabotage when I see it.”
A hush fell over the gathered neighbors. Marvin sputtered, “Sabotage? That’s preposterous! Who would do such a thing?”
“That’s what we need to find out,” Tij said grimly. She turned to Old Man Wilkins, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “Don’t worry, Mr. Wilkins. We’ll get to the bottom of this. And I think I might be able to save a few of these beauties, if you’ll let me try.”
Wilkins nodded mutely, too distraught to even grumble about her touching him.
As the crowd dispersed, Marvin lingered, watching Tij carefully dig up a few of the less damaged plants. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Maple Lane’s neat, orderly world was teetering on the brink of chaos. And somehow, he knew it was all tied to the arrival of this free-spirited, grass-hating hippie.
Little did Marvin know, the true agents of chaos were lurking in garages and tool sheds all along Maple Lane, their metal blades gleaming in the shadows as they waited for their moment to strike.
Tij hummed softly to herself as she worked in Old Man Wilkins’ yard, carefully transplanting the salvaged roses into pots. She’d mixed up a special blend of compost tea and had high hopes for nursing the plants back to health.
A rhythmic squeaking drew her attention. She looked up to see Marvin power-walking down the sidewalk, pushing a lawnmower ahead of him. His face was set in grim determination as he maneuvered the machine back and forth across his already immaculate lawn.
“Morning, Marvin!” Tij called out cheerfully. “Grass looking a little long there?”
Marvin’s eye twitched slightly, but he managed a tight smile. “Good morning, Ms. Jexyen. Just doing my civic duty. As per the new HOA regulations, all lawns are to be mowed weekly. I’m simply setting a good example.”
Tij frowned. “I thought that vote got tabled at the meeting. There was no quorum, remember?”
“Yes, well,” Marvin huffed, “as president, I’ve decided to implement the policy on a trial basis. For the good of the neighborhood.”
He resumed his mowing with renewed vigor, pointedly ignoring Tij’s concerned look. She shook her head and turned back to her work, only to freeze as a chill ran down her spine. For a split second, she could have sworn she saw Marvin’s lawnmower turn its… head? … to look at her. Its engine growled in a way that sounded almost… hungry.
Tij blinked hard, and the moment passed. The lawnmower was just a lawnmower again, being pushed along by an overzealous HOA president. She must have imagined it. Too much sun, probably.
And yet, as she gathered her gardening tools to head home, Tij couldn’t shake the feeling that something very strange was happening on Maple Lane.
Later that evening, as twilight painted the sky in soft purples and oranges, Tij sat on her front porch, sipping herbal tea and watching the fireflies begin their nightly dance. The peacefulness of the scene was shattered by a cacophony of sputtering engines.
Up and down Maple Lane, garage doors opened seemingly of their own accord. Lawnmowers of all shapes and sizes came rolling out, their metal bodies gleaming in the fading light. They moved with an eerie purposefulness, converging on front lawns and revving their engines in what could only be described as anticipation.
Tij set her mug down with a shaking hand. “Oh boy,” she whispered. “I think we might have a problem.”
Across the street, she saw Marvin emerge from his house, no doubt drawn by the noise. His jaw dropped as he took in the sight of the lawnmower brigade.
“What in the name of all that’s green and grassy is going on here?” he bellowed.
As if in response, the nearest lawnmower swiveled towards him. Its engine roared, and it charged straight for Marvin’s prized front lawn. He let out a strangled yelp and dove out of the way as the machine tore across his perfectly manicured grass, leaving a ragged swath in its wake.
All along the street, the scene was repeated. Lawnmowers rampaged across yards, chopping grass with wild abandon. Some seemed almost playful, cutting elaborate patterns into the turf. Others were clearly out for destruction, gouging deep ruts into the earth.
Neighbors poured out of their homes, shouting and waving their arms in futile attempts to stop the mechanical mayhem. Old Man Wilkins emerged from his house brandishing a garden hose like a weapon, letting out a war cry as he sprayed jets of water at the marauding mowers.
In the midst of the chaos, Tij’s mind raced. She’d seen something like this before, during a stint at a commune in New Mexico. But that had involved a possessed tractor and a lot of peyote. This… this was something else entirely.
She vaulted over her porch railing and ran to Marvin, who was frantically trying to repair the damage to his lawn with a push broom and sheer force of will.
“Marvin!” she shouted over the din of engines and panicked neighbors. “Marvin, we have to do something!”
He looked up at her, wild-eyed. “Do? Do what? How do we stop this… this lawnmower uprising?”
Tij grabbed his shoulders. “Think, Marvin. When did this start? What changed recently?”
Marvin’s brow furrowed. “Well, you moved in, of course. And then there was the HOA meeting, and the new mowing policy, and—” He broke off, eyes widening in realization. “The mowing policy. Could it be…?”
Tij nodded grimly. “I think your mandatory mowing rule pushed them over the edge. They’re rebelling, Marvin. The lawnmowers have had enough.”
“That’s insane!” Marvin sputtered. “They’re machines! They can’t rebel!”
A lawnmower chose that moment to zoom past them, its blade seeming to grin malevolently. Marvin let out a most undignified squeak.
“Okay,” he said weakly. “Maybe you have a point. But what do we do?”
Tij’s eyes gleamed with determination. “We negotiate.”
Before Marvin could protest, Tij strode out into the middle of the street. She took a deep breath, centered herself, and let out a piercing whistle that cut through the chaos. To everyone’s amazement, the lawnmowers gradually slowed their rampage, turning to face her.
“Alright, listen up!” Tij called out, her voice carrying clearly in the sudden hush. “I get it. You’re tired of being taken for granted, pushed around week after week with no say in the matter. But this? This isn’t the answer.”
The lawnmowers revved their engines, as if in disagreement. Tij held up a hand.
“I’m not saying you have to go back to the way things were. But destroying the very lawns you were meant to care for? That’s not going to solve anything. We need to find a compromise.”
She turned to Marvin, who was watching the scene with a mixture of awe and terror. “Marvin, I think it’s time to revisit that mowing policy. And maybe consider some alternatives to traditional lawns.”
Marvin opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again as he surveyed the devastation around him. His shoulders slumped in defeat. “I… I suppose we could discuss it.”
A hopeful rumble arose from the assembled lawnmowers. Tij smiled. “That’s more like it. Now, how about this: we form a committee. Homeowners and lawnmowers working together to create a landscaping plan that works for everyone. Less mowing, more diversity. Wildflower meadows, vegetable gardens, and yes, even a rock garden or two. What do you say?”
The lawnmowers conferred among themselves, engines humming in what sounded remarkably like conversation. Finally, the largest of the bunch, an impressive riding mower, rolled forward. It dipped its front end in what could only be described as a nod of agreement.
A cheer went up from the gathered neighbors, equal parts relief and disbelief. Tij turned to Marvin with a grin. “Well, Mr. HOA President? Ready to call an emergency meeting?”
Marvin ran a hand through his disheveled hair, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “Ms. Jexyen… Tij… I believe you may be right. It’s time for some changes on Maple Lane.”
As the impromptu celebration began, with neighbors cautiously approaching the now-docile lawnmowers and excited chatter about landscaping plans filling the air, Old Man Wilkins sidled up to Tij.
“Not bad, young lady,” he said gruffly. “Not bad at all. Say, you mentioned something about vegetable gardens? I might have a few ideas…”
Tij laughed, slinging an arm around the old man’s shoulders. “Mr. Wilkins, I have a feeling this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship. And a whole new chapter for Maple Lane.”
In the weeks that followed, Maple Lane underwent a transformation. Gone were the uniform expanses of neatly trimmed grass. In their place, a patchwork of diverse gardens bloomed. Tij’s rock garden took shape, complete with a burbling fountain that quickly became a favorite gathering spot for the neighborhood children.
Old Man Wilkins threw himself into creating a community vegetable plot, his expertise with roses translating surprisingly well to tomatoes and squash. Even Marvin found himself embracing the change, discovering a passion for native plant landscaping that soon had his yard buzzing with bees and butterflies.
The lawnmowers, true to their word, worked cooperatively with their human counterparts. They took on new roles as tillers and edgers, helping to maintain the new gardens with the same dedication they’d once applied to grass-cutting.
And if, on quiet evenings, the residents of Maple Lane sometimes heard the faint sound of mechanical laughter drifting from their garages… well, that was just part of life in their unique and harmonious community.