There's a tent in my garden
HUMOUR - BY PRASANTO K. ROY
Crash.The dragon shattered the wall. It was in a sari, breathing fire and waving a whip. Strangely, its shrill rant about communists in my room was in Bengali. Odd, I said, do dragons speak in —Crash!
I woke up. What? I looked around groggily. Then I heard something through the window. In the garden.
I reached for my phone. Dead. I plugged in the charger. My iPad was next to the bed, and it said 2am. In the media we double-check things, so I searched for "time" and Google confirmed it. 2am.
I shook my wife awake. "Don't panic," I said urgently. "Why? Should I?" she said. "Okay, maybe a bit," I said. "There's something outside. I don't think it's a dragon. It could be a communist."
"Oh, shut up," she said. "Get back to —" and then she heard it too. A scraping and rustling in the garden. "Call the police," she said.
"I just plugged in my BlackBerry. It takes 10 minutes to start up," I said.
"Yes, while we get killed. Wait, what's that?"
I listened. Startled, I listened harder. It was someone humming. Something familiar and cheerful. This was a happy intruder.
"Wait," I said. "I'll check this out." I picked up the heaviest thing I could find as a weapon, my wife's Dell laptop, and stepped quietly toward the balcony. "You stay here and call the cops if I yell"¦my phone will be up and running in five."
I went out on to the balcony, laptop switched on for softlight. I needn't have bothered. Our intruder had triggered my garden's motion-sensor halogen light, while breaking down a bit of the boundary wall.
I was half-expecting a dragon. What I wasn't expecting was, in a corner of our garden, a tent.
Quite a smart tent, at that. It was green, with bits of forest camouflage, and I could see the light shining on a logo that said "Beijing Outdoor". Inside, there was movement, and the almost-tuneless humming that I now recognised as Gangnam Style.
Seriously weird.
"Hey"¦" I said loudly, from the balcony.
A head poked out of the tent, with a big grin. "Hello-hello!" it said. It was Ping Chong, my neighbour.
"Er"¦" I wasn't often at a loss for words, but I'd never before had a neighbour break into my garden and pitch a tent.
A wrist emerged, and the grinning head looked at it. "Late, vely late!" it said. "Good night!" And it popped back into the tent.
I stood there for a few minutes, out on the balcony. Then I went back.
"What? Who's it? Shall I call the cops?"
"No, it's okay." I said. "It's just our neighbour Chong. He's broken our wall and pitched a tent in our garden."
"What? Is he crazy? Go back and speak to him."
"I can't now. It's very late and he's gone to sleep."
***
"Look here," said my wife. "It's been over a week now. Just what are you planning to do about this dude in the tent? He's all over our garden."
"Let's not exaggerate now. He's just 19 feet into our plot. I measured it. And anyway Ping Chong has a different perception of exactly where the boundary wall is."
"What? Different what? Anyway what are you doing about it?"
"Well, you know I went to the cops. They said it was a sensitive matter between two neighbours, and that we should talk it over."
"You talked it over twice. First time, he came back with his cooking stove and started making noodles in our garden. The second time he went back to get his yappy Pekingese, and now there's doggy-do all over."
"Yes, yes I know. Don't worry, tomorrow I'm sending someone next door to talk it over with his dad."
"Sending someone? Like who?"
"Salman."
"Our tenant? What can he do?"
"Salman is a great negotiator. He was 'salesman of the week' last year."
"What if he can't get him out?"
"Don't worry, I have a plan B. I've bought a tent on e-Bay. It should be here tomorrow. Now let them stop me pitching a tent in their garden."
***
The doorbell rang. "My tent!" I said, and ran to the door.
It was Salman, and he was beaming from ear to ear..
"Great news, man," he said. "It's all sorted out."
"What? He's going back?"
"Totally. He wanted to leave his tent behind in case he had to come back, but I convinced his dad to get Chong to take the tent back."
"What did you tell him?"
"Well, I said you were getting ready to pitch a tent in their garden, but you wouldn't if Chong was a good boy and went back."
"Wow."
"Yes. But Papa Li also said they were concerned about your activities near the boundary wall. I said you'd take care of that."
"My"¦ activities?"
"You've put flower pots right next to the wall. He's also seen you walking too close to the boundary, singing Just another brick in the wall."
"But why did Chong break in and pitch a tent in my garden?"
"Hey man, we didn't go there. We were focusing on solving the crisis, so we didn't do any post-mortem or apportion blame."
"So it's all sorted out?"
"You bet. We're on the same page now. Papa Li is even going to visit us next week. You could chat about the boundary wall issue then."
I slapped him on the back. "Well, you did it, man. You're just the best."
Prasanto K. Roy (@prasanto) is a green evangelist and technology writer
There’s a tent in my garden
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Something to lighten up!