Don’t Fence Me In

What’s on my mind? The fence. We needed one to keep rabbits and deer out of the back garden.

So we talked to a fence guy who said: “I will build a great fence - and nobody builds fences better than me, believe me - and I’ll build it very inexpensively. I will build a great, great fence on your southern property line, and I will make your neighbors pay for that fence. Mark my words.”

To which the fence guy’s son, Eric, added: “My father will build the fence so fast, people’s heads will spin.”

“But how are we going to get our neighbors to pay for it?” we asked. To which the fence guy said: “It’s an easy decision for your neighbors.” And walked away, not really answering our question. When we tried to get specifics, he said: “We don’t know where the rabbits and deer are coming from. We don’t know who they are. They could be ISIS.”

We thought that was scary, so we got another quote from another fence guy. He said we needed to “patrol and secure neighborhoods before the rabbits become radicalized.” 

“What does that mean?” we whispered. “They’ll eat your tulips,” he said. Our hands flew to our mouths in horror.

The first fence guy said he’d keep an eye on the rabbits. It was only fair to hear what he had to say. “I saw the migration and it looks like mostly strong males. There aren’t that many females or bunnies. I understand the whole thing with migration. It’s a horrible thing. It should never have happened in the first place.”

“We’ve heard that the scent of human hair can keep deer from entering a garden,” we said.

“Let me tell you, I’m a really smart guy,” said the fence guy. “Sorry, losers and haters, but my IQ is one of the highest - and you all know it. Please don’t feel stupid or insecure, it’s not your fault.”

We tried to steer the conversation back to the effect human hair might have on deer. 

“I do not wear a rug,” said the fence guy. “My hair is 100% mine. I get up, take a shower and wash my hair. Then I read the newspapers and watch the news on television, and slowly the hair dries. It takes about an hour. I don’t use the blow dryer. Once it’s dry, I comb it. Once I have it the way I like it - even though nobody else likes it - I spray it and it’s good for the day.”

We looked at one another in confusion. “How much will our fence cost?” we asked.

“Eight billion bucks.”

“What???”

The fence guy shrugged. “The neighbors are gonna pay for it.” 

When we looked doubtful, he added: “Part of the beauty of me is that I am very rich. When I build something for somebody, I always add $50 or $60 million onto the price. My guys come in, they say it’s gonna cost $75 million. I say it’s gonna cost $125 million, and I build it for $100 million. Basically, I do a lousy job. But they think I did a great job.”

“And no one complains?” we asked.

“The neighbors are gonna pay for it,” he repeated.

Changing the subject, he said: “Black guys counting my money! I hate it! The only kinda people I want counting my money are little short guys that wear yarmulkes every day.” 

Disgusted, we said we’d talked to a second fence guy.

“I think the only difference between me and the other fence guys is that I’m more honest and my women are more beautiful,” he said. “You know, it really doesn’t matter what the media write as long as you’ve got a young and beautiful piece of ass.”

Emotionally exhausted, we agreed to let him build the fence. And it was high, and the deer couldn’t jump it - but the rabbits still sneaked through and our neighbors didn’t pay.

©  Nicole Parton, 2019