I had a really hard time coming up with a title for this one. “They Dwell Amongst Us?” Too formal. “Hey, Hey, You, You, Get Off of My Grass!” Too rock invasion. “The Angst of a Hopeful Serial Killer?” Meh. And, yet, with all of the rumination, my title still stinks. Hopefully the story doesn’t. 😉
Thanks, as always, to the wonderful Rochelle for providing us with Friday Fictioneers!
So, You Won’t Get Off My Grass?
Ever since the Hasting’s girl, playing hide-n-seek, died hiding in an old refrigerator, the county’s required removing the doors when trashed. Everyone abides, except for Albert.
Every so often an old fridge, doors on, appears at the edge of Albert’s property. It sits for days. “How does Albert go through so many fridges?” they wonder to themselves. They think lovable Albert is simply forgetful.
But Albert is frickin’ tired of them kids. Riding bikes through his new grass, snatching his prized roses for their always impregnated mother, stealing his blueberries.
How’s it so wrong he wants them to play hide-n-seek?