You see Will, your neighbor, walk out to his mailboxz. Immediately you spring into action, jumping from your stool at the kitchen counter and running out the door.
"Will!" you shout as you scurry down the sidewalk toward him.
Will sees you and rolls his eyes. His shoulders sink while his jaw falls slack. Will is unhappy to see you.
"Will, look, I wanted to talk to you about this eyesore in your yard," you explain, pointing to the haphazard collection of tireless bicycle wheels and wood shipping palettes.
"That's an art piece, Jeff," Will practically snorts at you. "It's a statement on the human condition, not that a simpleton like you would understand."
That tears it.
"It's a statement on violating the goddam homeowner's association rules, you fuck. You need to take that shit down."
Will is unfazed by your inappropriate language. "Whatever, Jeff, you're just still on that crap about me borrowing your weed whacker."
"I couldn't care less about you returning my weed whacker, asshole, I'm upset about you not returning it, which I'm sure you only did because I didn't go to your lame-ass pajama party."
"Jeff, you refused to attend that Halloween party knowing that most of the block wouldn't show up if you were there."
"I refused to attend that crap because of the way you look at my teenage daughter, you interminable pervert! Whether or not the neighborhood also recognizes your pedophiliac tendencies is not my concern, babyfucker!"
Robert Frost was wrong.