The Fence

A Writer's Cramp entry: 1,000 words or less

Write a story or poem that begins with the following:

The neighbors put up a new fence yesterday.

Make the sentence bold to highlight it for tomorrow's judge.

The Fence

The neighbors put up a new fence yesterday. At first when they were building it, I didn’t even pause to admire its structure. A fence is a fence, I thought. Wooden, unpainted, straight as a toothpick, only much wider, of course. The thing covered lots of territory, too, clear around their property like they was trying to keep an invasion out.

But that was their business. They were okay neighbors, not invasive, didn’t greet you each morning with an insipid smile on their faces, grinning with their heads bobbing like those stick figures on people’s car dashboard.

No, sir. As I said, they were good neighbors who stayed in their house and never bothered other folks.

And anyway, I heard tell that some famous poet once said that “good fences make good neighbors.”

So, I didn’t protest none the day they put it up, didn’t stop and mull over the situation. No, sir. I just “went with the flow.”

But I was telling you about the fence, not the neighbors.

It never hit me that there was something different about that fence, not until my cat chased the neighbor’s dog back towards their yard.

Whimp of a dog. My cat’s no bigger than a giant-sized rat, yet that great big hound – a Great Dane, if you can believe it, saw the cat’s hair stand up like it was saluting, heard the kitty’s growl, and then that coward of a dog ran like the dickens. And he whimpered like a stuck piglet the whole time he was going faster than a grasshopper being chased by a frog’s tongue.

My oh, my. What a sight. I laughed so hard at the silly tail tucked ‘neath that great big body with his legs pedaling like he thought he was an Olympic sprinter . . . why my stomach was almost doing a belly dance it was so tickled.

Only, that was when I realized something was very odd about that fence. Cause the Great Dane tried to jump over the fence, but didn’t. Instead, he bounced.

Now I was standing there, watching the whole thing. I know what I saw. That dog took off like a thoroughbred, sailing into the air like he could fly. He cleared it, too, or would have, except just about mid-point, his body stopped and recoiled. Like he was a ping pong or rubber dog. Then his body ricocheted, somersaulted, and bounded down to the ground – back on my side of the fence.

Never seen nothing like it. I practically swallowed my wad of gum. Forgot to chew it, anyway for a bit.

I mean, that weren’t natural a sight to see. Dogs just don’t bounce like that.

That poor dog. He was singing Caruso before he took off, but geez Louise, after that, what came out of the dog’s muzzle was a Soprano with her finger stuck in a door.

As if that wasn’t enough to stir the imagination, that there fence started glowing and shimmering. The stars up in the heavens couldn’t compete with the way that fence carried on. It was like the neon lights of Vegas, all blinky on and off, but spastic, like as if someone was playing with the electricity, toggling it back and forth.

The Great Dane limped over to my side, put his head in my lap, and when he felt my hand come down to pet him, he issued such a happy snort, I didn’t have the will to send him on home. I mean, I’d already seen what happened when he tried that, so I just sat and petted him, keeping my eye on that fence of my neighbors.

Good thing I did, cause the funniness didn’t stop with the fence. The lights kept toggling, the fence started buzzing, and I suddenly felt a surge, a really powerful surge of electricity that lifted up the hairs on both my arms.

My cat, who’d been glaring at me since I got so friendly with her enemy, the Great Dane, let out a vexed yeooooow, then took off, heading for the open door to the cellar.

When I swung my head back toward the fence, I saw that the glow had turned fiery red. It was making a noise, too. A noise like a car revving up. No, more guttural than that, more like when a motorcycle passes you on the freeway, except louder. Much, much louder.

Guess I should have mentioned I lived out in the country. The fenced in house of the neighbors was the only occupied building on this side of the tracks down off Curly Street -- the only one except mine, of course. So there weren’t any folks jumping out of their bedrooms, turning off the TV so they could pinpoint the noise.

Only me, the Great Dane, and Checkers, the old calico who’d just deserted us for the safety of the cellar.

So it was that I have no one to back me up. Only a whimpering, quivering hound. But I swear I saw it. That fence, all bright as a Christmas tree, lifted up the house. The whole thing, yard and all, like angels were carrying it off to Heaven. Only I don’t think they were visiting God, cause the next thing I saw was that the whole package, wrapped by the brand new fence, jerked sideways and headed straight toward the moon.

It didn’t stop there, neither, but kept on going until it was no bigger than a dot in the sky.

I don’t much care for fences. Maybe they make good neighbors, but I still ain’t getting one. Meanwhile, the Great Dane – I call him Whimper, for obvious reasons, he and I, and Checkers are doing just fine.



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