He growled at me and slammed the door in my face.
That night, as I lay in bed, I made a decision. I wouldn’t tell Tom. He already had enough to do. But I would find a way to protect my lawn, just as Harold would have wanted.
The next day, while searching the garage for a small rake, my eyes fell upon an old, dusty can stored on a high shelf. I hadn’t thought about that can in years. It was one of Harold’s, filled with bits and pieces from his many projects. I depressed it, feeling its weight in my hands, and opened the lid.
Inside, I found dozens of tiny insects arranged in a box. I could almost see Harold’s meticulous hands sorting them, placing them there for a project he’d never finish. As I held one between my fingers, an idea began to form in my mind. These insects were nearly invisible, especially when scattered on the ground. If I scattered them wherever the truck kept parking, these Malpolis residents would be in for a big surprise.
That night, I waited until the world was quiet and dark. I slipped out of the house, the can tucked under my arm. The cool night air brushed against my skin, and the only sound was the soft rustling of leaves.
I felt a mixture of nervousness and determination as I carefully sprayed the insects in the area where the truck was still parked. The tiny dots glowed faintly in the moonlight, blending into the grass. It was perfect.
I finished quickly and slipped inside, my heart pounding. I knew it wasn’t the most conventional solution, but I wasn’t going to let them ruin my lawn without a fight.
