Alf has a beeping contest with our neighbors.
Every morning when they leave the house, they unlock the car and it beeps.
At night when they return home, sometimes quite late, they lock the car and it beeps.
Alf matches them beep for beep. Instead of two beeps, it’s four with his, and more on the weekends.
When we leave and come home, he beeps.
“Trying to make a point,” he said.
This has been going on for months.
“Is your point poking them yet?” I asked.
“I’m hoping they’ll get the hint and disengage the beep. It disturbs the neighborhood,” he said.
“You mean it disturbs you,” I said.
“They have no manners. They’re unaccustomed to American ways.”
“You mean they’re uncivilized.”
“They’re selfish,” he said.
“Why don’t you talk to them?”
“Have you ever been to their country? The noise level is deafening 24-hours a day. They’re used to it. What’s a beep here or there to them?”
“But they’re not there, they’re here, and you’re irritated by the noise,” I said.
“I’ll keep beeping. I want to see where this takes us,” he said.
Calvin says, “This is so childish. I’d go over there and pee on their tires.”