Sam hasn’t been keeping the place up. Why, I remember when they used to call it “The White House.”
Uncle Sam has become that neighbor nobody likes.
Mind you, Sam has always been prickly. All over the map politically, and a stickler for the letter of the law as defined by the neighborhood association, though truth be told he’d been known to cut a few corners himself.
But he subscribed to the newspaper, walked the dog morning and evening, and kept up his property. From time to time he might have some pointed advice as to how you might improve your place, too. But Sammy meant well. Plus he was always good for a box or two of Girl Scout cookies.
Now he’s old and querulous, and if there’s a loon campaigning for something, you’ll see his sign in Sam’s yard, which is not nearly so well kept these days. Fox News is on what appears to be an endless loop, with the volume cranked to the max so he can hear it out in the garage, where he’s perpetually working on … something. The dog has likewise gone gray and mean, and stays chained up out back in what’s become more salvage yard than back yard.
And when the Girl Scouts come calling he runs them off, threatening to call the cops, or worse, especially if the kids are Brownies.
His old pals from the war don’t come around anymore. But there’s this new crowd nobody’s too keen on. Loudmouths with attitude, the sort you don’t dare turn your back on, guys who break things because it’s fun, and because nobody cares to stop them.
The neighbors all hope the family takes charge, because property values are dropping like a stone and it’s just plain bad for business. But they have their own problems and don’t seem to much care what goes on in that old white house any more. They’ve got the time to put on this big barbecue, though. It’s a national holiday or something.
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