Continued from here
Shortly after Lou Ann McNugget felt the concussion of my door in her face, I was feeling the concussions of falling trees, precious few of which were near the fence that she both 1) made necessary and 2) so zealously said wanted to protect.
Eventually, inevitably, it came time to remove the tree right next to my fence. When tree-hugger me had a tree cut down three years ago, the professional loggers I hired scaled to the top of the tree and cut it down one chunk at a time, safely ziplining the chunks away from fences and decks. When Percy cut down an even larger tree, his loggers did the same thing.
So how does the sort of "logger" Lou Ann McNugget hires cut down a tree? He uses a backhoe to brutally pry it down, away from the fence, until the trunk snaps. And then he acts surprised when it recoils and destroys the fence. And then he takes another hit of meth.
Fortunately, my security camera caught the critical moment. The Definitive Moment of Ultimate Whitetrashity.
The tree ended up whiplashing into the fence with tremendous force, destroying one 6' panel and shattering five others. Eventually, a panel fell on my new laurels, crushing one.
It is now eight days later.
"We're only worried about your fence, John," sneered Lou Ann McNugget three weeks ago.
I'd love to know how this is my fault and not theirs, which is surely the dogma next door. But then that would require hearing her speak words, and I'd love the absence of that even more.
Enjoy the invasive bamboo I'm planting, sweetheart.