Feets of Rage

"It's those stinking feet I can't stand. Always those disgusting worms staring at me across the flower rows. Look at this fool, sitting there on his lawn chair with his crusty toes. God, the hate is unbearable. I can't take it. I won't. I won't take it anymore!"

And so i laid some rows of bricks - ankle high - stretched from one end of the yard to the other.

"Marvelous. My idiot neighbor placed a row of bricks on our property lines. Oh, the cleverness. It screams to high heavens. Such great disturbance can only be created by the finest minds in the land. And now, with an unnatural straight line to my left peripheral, all I see is this grumpy bastard sitting at his picnic table. Yes, sit ON the table like an animal. Put those feet up on the chair where one is supposed to sit. I will not stand the sight of these boney legs a minute longer."

And so I added a few more layers of bricks to his - about knee high - atop the first layer.

"Every time I think I cannot despise someone more, comes this old boil and pops his puss all over my face. A second layer, huh? Just high enough for me to see your wrinkly ass in your summer shorts as you bends over to pick at the weeds. Dr. Dre didn't sell all his guns you old fool, and I didn't run out of bricks."

A third layer of bricks - about butt high - appeared on top of the second layer the next day.

"I..... think I am having a heart attack.... the sun is out in its full glory and the sound of the waves is not drowned by any other disturbance and yet... all I see is rage... and a THIRD layer of bricks... and a pair of hairy nipples on an unwashed baboon..."

A fourth layer. Man's height.

"Finally."

"Finally!"

"It's high enough"

"It will do"

"Now I can be happy"

"Now I AM happy"

And the wall stood tall.