Homeowner's Association

Fame and the American Dream

Ted cracked a beer on his front porch, flipped through some landscape design photos on his phone. He preferred regular old beer, beer, but a local nanobrewery had given him two free cases of Rutabaga Stout on the off chance pictures of Ted would appear online.

Two helicopters circled above.

Ted Corbley served in the Persian Gulf, was pretty sure he had managed to avoid the PTSD that plagued some of his buddies, but the helicopters made him nervous nonetheless, especially since they were surrounded by drones that looked like drunken gnats.

He had talked Bernadette out of her dream colonial in the University District because it was too close to Livernois, too noisy, too crowded.

Ted always dreamed of a house on a quiet little cul-de-sac.

He fulfilled that dream.

His daughter Rachel was valedictorian of Eisenhower High School, she was off in Nunavut, with a team of U of M biologists who might have discovered a rare moose. If they could get DNA samples-

Bang! 

A rather bland-looking sedan hit one of the TV trucks.

Looked like it would have made a good unmarked cop car on an old ’90s detective show.

Ted sipped his beer, grateful only that it was cold and free, and looked at his lawn.

Wasn’t really a lawn, anymore, per se.

Millington Vermont, from the Milling Ton’ O Dirt and Nip Slips web community, Subreddit and quasi-religion,