I Take a Bite Out of Crime

The shrubs in front of my house are too high. They are unruly; they know no discipline. They are taller than I am, and ever so wide. But I don’t let the danger inherent to these particular shrubs get me down; if any bandits dare lurk in the shrubbery, they’ll have to deal with my booby trap: I’ve arranged some La-Z-Boy recliners, a lamp, ashtray, monster truck magazines and a few cans of Busch under the foliage. My hospitality will sear all memory of burglary and mayhem from their criminal minds. Later, when I smell their cigarette smoke, I will push the piano out of the window above them.

Pshaw, you say. Too easy. Too predictable. Well pshaw to you, then. Come over and trim my shrubs with that big mouth.