Putin, Lincoln, and the Churchill’s at Number 10

The New World Order, and the Bulldog.

It was in the middle of the night; I heard an explosion. I leapt out of bed, scared for my life, and saw that my garden shed was on fire, my greenhouse shattered, the Koi Pond obliterated, nothing more than mud hole and parts of my beautiful Koi collection hanging from the burned trees.

Three cats were burned bald, and across the way, the neighbor, Mr. Putin, was holding several sticks of dynamite, threatening to destroy what was left of my home if I did not relinquish the rights to half an acre so that he could build his swimming pool to an Olympic size standard.

Jenny followed, still in her nightie, wrapped in a blanket. “Are you okay, Honey?”

With the flames from the burning shed shining in my eyes, I said, “WHAT! No, I’m not fucking all right. Putin has just declared war on us over the size of his fucking swimming pool project.”

We only bought the house three months ago. Putin has been a pain in my arse since day one.

“I think we will have to negotiate with him, honey. It looks like he is serious. I mean, look up there at your Koi fish. Poor innocent things. Can the cats have them?”

“CATS! You mean those three roasted creatures lying by the… or what was the pond. Do they look fucking hungry to you?”

“Oh dear, are they dead?”

“DEAD? No dear, they’re acting! Of course, they’re fucking dead!”

“The neighbors did warn us about the neighbor. They said Mr. Putin just takes what he wants, makes your life miserable, and then negotiates when you’ve got nothing left to bargain with. Doesn’t seem fair to me.”

“FAIR! Take a look around you, this is what we have left to bargain with, Koi in trees, dead bald cats, burned out shed, greenhouse that is now a blackhouse, and no fucking fence to mark our property!”

“This a huge tragedy, Harry.”

“WHAT…WHAT…! TRAGEDY! The fucking maniac has invaded our property and blown it to smithereens. It’s not a fucking tragedy, Jenny. It’s a fucking war!”

“But you know the rest of the neighborhood won’t get involved. We are going to have to negotiate with Putin, perhaps he will concede to building a smaller swimming pool, and we won’t lose so much of our property.”

“Jenny, the neighborhood autocrat has just destroyed everything we stand for, being good neighbors, helping where we can. And this cat murderer, with no planning permission, and violating our neighborhood rights, has declared war. And you want ME to NEGOTIATE?”

“I’m only thinking of the budgie, honey, and the hamsters, if we negotiate maybe we can save their lives.”

“I’m not negotiating with a fucking cat murdering, Olympic fuck! NO WAY!”

“We have nothing we can go to war with, love. We have a horse-drawn carriage, I don’t think that will work. The ride on mower was in the shed, along with the bikes.”

Just then my cell phone rings. “Hello, this is Harry. I can’t talk right now, I’m at war. WHAT! How the fuck did you know?” There’s a slight pause. “Jenny, it’s the insurance guy wanting to know if we need extra cover. He sounds Chinese!”

“Tell him to call back, honey,” Jenny said.

“Fuck off, or whatever that is in Chinese!”

“Wait,” Jenny screamed, “we like Chinese people, Harry. They made our TV.”

“Okay…okay…call back, no offense.”

Standing watching the dereliction, the trees burning, squirrels with their tails on fire, there came a great rumbling down the street.

“What the hell is that?” I asked Jenny.

“I called Mr. Lincoln at number 43. He doesn’t want to get involved but he can loan us a Sherman tank from his collection. And Mr. Churchill at number 10 has a bulldog. Isn’t this nice, honey. We have all these friends. I think Mr. Putin will have to negotiate.”

“Am I losing it, Jenny? The man comes onto our property, destroys everything in sight, and has the fucking gall to tell us he will negotiate terms for his Olympic size swimming pool? I’m losing it…I’m losing it…I’m losing…”

“Harry…Harry…wake up. Wake up, Harry. You’re having a nightmare.”

“Eh…what..who…wow! That was scary,” I said.

“Here, have a sip of water. You were having a nightmare. Yelling and screaming, like you were fighting a war…wait, why are you getting up?”

“I’m going to check on the cats, love.”