On her patio, Linda’s jaw clenches in determination as she starts her classical music. Exactly one minute later, punk rock blasts back at her from her enemy’s yard.
She storms onto his deck. His words strike first from his hot tub. “Dumb bitch, stealing my batteries is the best you got? Here’s a shocker, I got a cord.” He nods to the boombox plugged into an exterior outlet.
Linda smiles. “I hoped so. Here’s another shocker.” She tips the boombox into the water. His music stops dead. Wide eyes slip below the surface as Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture hits a crescendo.
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sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="The Mannequin People by Michael J. Stiehl"
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sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
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alt="Rude Awakening by Richard Lau"
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