The neighbors were not happy about my choice of lawn art.
As I pointed out, trying to be reasonable, it was a simple rock garden with a pool. They had a life-size buffalo and Native American statue in their yard. Oh, and then there was the bizarre log cabin facade on their house.
When they reported me to the municipality, I countered by reporting them. I found out – eventually – that they had received a permit for their decorations, well in advance.
My neighbors are not Native American, by the way. We are not living in a frontier village. This is a suburb of Boston for goodness sake.
Long story short, my rock garden is gone. And the statues? Tourists are willing to pay a 1.50 a piece for pictures and the town has opened a small museum nearby. What next? A petting zoo? I think I may have to sell the house now, before things get really out of hand. What would you do?
…..
My combined entry for Monday’s Finish the Story and the A-Z Challenge
Anne Higa 
I’m not sure if this is a true story or fiction. Either way it’s humorous. I think I’d be thinking of moving out of there too in that situation. The suburbs can be a funny place.
Yeah, I’d sell!
Nice that you turned it around so that the protagonist is not the one with the statues.