Over several years, my neighbor got really into building up defenses. They’d always had a knack for going big, but it escalated—stockpiles of gear, heavy equipment, even setting up watchposts along the edges of their land. They’d say, “This keeps the whole area safe, you know. No trouble’s coming near with me ready like this.” I’d nod, though I wasn’t convinced our quiet little stretch needed that level of vigilance. My own land’s been fine with simpler measures—sturdy fences, a sharp eye, nothing flashy. But mostly, I try to be nice to people and a good neighbor.
They didn’t stop there though. They started sending folks over to “check in” on my side, poking around, claiming it was for mutual benefit. I’d overhear them grumbling about how they could manage my land better if I’d just step aside.
Lately, they’ve gotten bolder. They started hinting that I rely too much on the path between our lands—you know, the one we’ve both used for years to go to the store and the pharmacy. “You’re getting a free ride,” they said one day, leaning on my fence. “Maybe I’ll start charging you a hefty fee to cross it, unless you play along.” I frowned—they’d never minded before, and I bring plenty to the table myself, keeping that path alive with my own efforts. Half of it is on my land ffs.
Then they showed up at my gate with a sly smile and a note. “Hey,” they said, “I’ve been guarding this whole area with all this—keeps the threats away. Frankly, you’re useless to me, no value at all. But how about you hand over your land for my protection? Fair trade, right?” I stared, incredulous. I hadn’t asked for their watchposts, their meddling, or their sudden tolls—I’ve kept my own land secure, tended it my way, and it’s held strong. They scowled, tossing out insults about how I’d be nothing without their shadow looming nearby, but I just shook my head and turned back to my own gate.
Signed,
Canada