On Sunday evening, I was putting nearly the final paint touches on the North Garage Face (lower half) Summer Project, when two men came down the alley and started urinating in my hedge, next to my garbage cans. Because of the angle of the driveway, they were not aware I was standing a short distance away.
I walked out into the alley holding a paint scraper. "I do not appreciate you doing that," I said. They said nothing. "What are you doing?" I asked. A juvenile titter.
Things got ugly.
I started shouting epithets. One, the young black man, shouted epithets back. The white man with the Mohawk style haircut zipped himself up, dodged the fresh, voluminous trail of piss, and started walking off sullenly. The noisy teenage swim party going on two doors down abruptly clammed up: doors slammed and the party ended in twenty seconds.
I escorted the men down the alley. The black man and I both shouted four-letter and five-letter, and six-letter insults at the top of our lungs at each other.
You may piss in my hedge, but be aware, I will tell you exactly what I think about you.
On my property, those are my rules.
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