Poor Unfortunate Souls

2 - Weed-Whacker Woes

Eisheth pulled the pillow over her head with a groan when she heard the weed whacker begin its shrieking ravaging of the hedgerow just below her bedroom window. The damn thing had to need oil or something with the way it sounded. That, or Mr. Green fueled it with the souls of the damned, which wouldn't have been out of character for the banal evil of the man. "Why?" she mumbled vaguely upwards as it stuttered along, destroying what little growth persisted after the ash fall.

The pillow did nothing to dampen the sound. It was worse than nails on a chalkboard, especially at 9:55 in the morning. She'd barely gotten an hour of sleep before the infernal racket started. Her choices were relatively straightforward: try to find a set of earplugs or venture out into the yard and see if a sufficiently blistering tongue-lashing could halt Hedge-Bane himself.

She rolled onto her side and fumbled open a drawer, fishing around for the little foam earplugs that were an essential part of any night-shift worker's sanity preservation. Eisheth uttered a few of her favorite expletives when she realized the last pair was gone. Vague memories of writing them on the grocery list came to haunt her through the haze of exhaustion, the specters of past deeds left undone here to mock her for her failings.

Disgusted with herself and thoroughly annoyed, she rolled out of bed. She didn't exactly cut the most imposing figure in her camisole and fuzzy flannel pants bedecked with images of rubber ducks. However, Eisheth had long ago learned that sincerity was the key to persuasion, and she was feeling incredibly sincere in her homicidal intent towards the weed whacker and its erstwhile operator.

Blinking bleary-eyed against the light beyond her blackout curtains as she stepped into the living room, she heard the weed whacker abruptly stop. Eisheth knew better than to assume Green had abandoned his task and made no move to head back to bed. Instead, she made a beeline for the kitchen door, ripping it open with the screeching ferocity of a truly perturbed barn owl. "Hey!"

Bleak and dull, the withered grass crunched under her bare feet with an unpleasant prickling as she advanced on him. A few stray thorns, flung from the mangling of the hedge, stabbed at the sensitive arch of her foot. Eisheth barely noticed, too focused on glaring down the man wielding the weed whacker himself.

Green looked at her like a deer caught in the headlights, sweat beading on his balding head. His greeting came out more as a question. "Morning, Eisheth?" From his slight paunch to his receding hairline, he looked the very picture of a man just past his midlife crisis, settled into something approaching retirement. Combined with a certain beige-ness that permeated both his skin and his wardrobe, most considered him an unremarkable sort.

Eisheth drew in a deep breath, nostrils flared and eyes narrowed. She looked down at the weed whacker, then back up at him with bloodshot, accusing eyes. "Is that really necessary?"

"Well, the HOA—"

It was a song and dance Eisheth knew well. "Those harpies can shut up about my hedge!" she snapped. "I want to sleep!"

Green pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at his forehead, sweat starting to trickle down his neck. "It's an eyesore, they said, and it punctured one of the kid's balls."

Eisheth scowled. "I'll puncture a lot more than—"

"Is there a problem here, Eisheth?"

The interjection of smooth, calm, polished words in that downright musical voice spiked her temper. Eisheth pivoted to face Green's wife, the corner of her mouth twitching for a moment as she tried to restrain her sneer. "Obviously."

Susan Green was at least two decades younger than her husband and considerably more stylish, if in that insufferably perfect way. Her sunglasses slid down her nose slightly as she gave Eisheth a severe once-over, tanned skin a pretty contrast to her white tennis outfit. A consummate social climber and relentless busybody, Susan was the face and nagging voice of the Homeowner's Association. "It's part of the new bylaws. All hedges have to be trimmed appropriately and not posing a hazard."