On Maple Lane, two houses sat side by side: one belonging to Mr. Arthur Grumble, a man who believed joy was suspicious, and the other to Mrs. Penelope Perky, a woman who believed joy should be forcefully sprinkled onto everyone like confetti.
Their feud began at exactly 7:03 a.m. on a sunny Tuesday.
Mrs. Perky stepped outside with her teal watering can, humming a song so cheerful that birds paused mid-flight just to glare. “Good morning, Mr. Grumble!” she called, waving across the picket fence.
Mr. Grumble, who had just settled into his porch chair to enjoy the silence, looked up with the enthusiasm of a man receiving a tax audit. “It was,” he muttered, folding his arms.
Undeterred, Mrs. Perky resumed watering her flowers—except her watering can had other plans. A rogue droplet bounced off a sunflower, ricocheted off her shoe, and splashed squarely onto Mr. Grumble’s foot.
He shot up like a toaster ejecting burnt bread. “Your water attacked me!”
Mrs. Perky gasped. “Oh my goodness! My water is just very friendly.”
“Tell your water to mind its business,” he grumbled, wiping his shoe.
The next morning, Mrs. Perky attempted a peace offering: fresh-baked muffins. She placed a warm basket on Mr. Grumble’s porch with a note that read, Wishing you a brighter day!
Mr. Grumble opened his door, saw the basket, and squinted suspiciously. “A trap,” he muttered. “She’s trying to soften me. Then what? Borrow my lawn mower? Ask for help moving a sofa? No… I’m not falling for it.”
He took the muffins inside anyway. And ate all of them. And enjoyed them. And refused to admit it.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Perky peeked from her window, hopeful.
“Did he like them?” she whispered to her cat, Mr. Whisker Buttons.
Mr. Whisker Buttons offered no useful feedback, as per usual.
The next day, Mrs. Perky decided to brighten Mr. Grumble’s yard by planting a flower on his side of the fence. Unfortunately, Mr. Grumble spotted her mid-crouch.
“What are you doing burying things in my yard?!”
Mrs. Perky jumped. “It’s a marigold! They symbolize happiness!”
“Well, I don’t need symbols,” he snapped. “I need order!”
He attempted to remove the marigold, but the plant had already fallen in love with the soil and refused to budge. Mr. Grumble tugged harder. Mrs. Perky tugged back.
The marigold surrendered to gravity. Both neighbors fell onto the grass in a tangled heap.
There was a moment of silence.
Then they saw it—the marigold, perfectly upright, as if mocking them both with botanical smugness.
Mrs. Perky began to giggle.
Mr. Grumble tried not to. He failed.
Soon they were both laughing so hard that even Mr. Whisker Buttons trotted over to investigate the commotion.
From that day on, the feud mellowed into a friendship—an odd one, of course. Mr. Grumble still frowned at everything, and Mrs. Perky still sparkled like a caffeinated sunrise. But they now shared muffins, gardening tips, and the occasional water-droplet accident.
Maple Lane had never been more peaceful…
Well, except when Mrs. Perky decided the fence needed glitter.
Mr. Grumble is still recovering from that one.
