An open letter to two miserable old crones

Dear Miserable Old Crones,

It must be so tiring to be you.

Contrary to your own opinions, when you purchased your house, you did not also purchase the entire street that runs past it. And if people want to drive down that street, they can. It is not a private road. It is a public street that just happens to dead end by the playground. A very nice playground, I might add. A playground that our son will quite enjoy playing in. Every weekend from now on. Just to tick you off. I don't even care that it's out of our way! If it annoys you, that's good enough for me.

We drove slowly down the street. And we sat patiently and waited while you crossed the street, ever so slowly. It was a lazy day, and we were okay with the fact that you wanted to take your time. We didn't even bat an eye. It was apparent you have limited mobility. Even if you hadn't, we wouldn't have minded you meandering.

But when you turned around and indignantly lifted your cane over your head and shook it at us while the both of you shrilly screamed "This isn't a public road, y'know! It's private!! GET OUT!!!", we became sorely tempted to strangle you slowly with your very own oxygen lines. Not that we would ever do it. But it gives us little tingles of pleasure to think about it, you understand.

I am grateful that my little son was sleeping peacefully at the time, and that you did not scare him with your Halloween-ish antics. Had you frightened him, hurt his feelings, or otherwise made him cry, you may have forced me to do something I would have regretted. Because it is hard to get blood out of my clothes.

Enjoy your lovely house. I know I will enjoy staring openly at it, as I park my car on your public street directly in front of it on a very regular basis, revving the engine and playing my stereo loudly.

Do you like Ozzy? No? Good!