The Hydroponic-Mycobiota in a ‘Quiet’ Neighborhood

It was an unseasonably cool and humid summer, like a perpetual April, or October. It was simply one oddity of that year, really the only one Harold at all liked, outside at that moment on his back porch reading with his coffee. Another was the rash of break ins happening all over town as those who had summer cottages and timeshares went ahead and left the strange dreariness behind for the comforts of still more temperate regions.

Harold failed to see the point of it, even during holidays, but to each their own.

Then again he didn’t like hot summers as much as he liked warm autumns, old as he was he’d seen both before and he knew which he preferred.

It was rather late when he finally looked up from his reading to drink his coffee, he’d been sensible enough to use a thermal cup so it was still worth finishing.

And it was only then that he heard the rumble of an engine.

There seemed to be a rental truck in front of the house next door, the one that had been left empty for about a year. He thought to continue his mellowed reading, but he thought better of it before leaving his porch and going out to the front to greet his new neighbors.

“Hello Neighbor!”, he said looking over to the acclimation underway. The larger furniture being carried along with what looked like boxes of much more fragile but heavy items.

“Hello,” went a mover, apparently a member, in transit. The young man was covered by a hoodie, he had a bit of a shiver to his movements, a jitter really, maybe they’d drunk something higher octane on the way over.

Harold, seeing who it was that managed to buy the old place, was rather happy. They’d had a good mode of conduct while house hunting last he’d seen, and they at least seemed friendly enough not to make a nuisance of themselves.

“So, you crazy kids are finally moving in?” he asked one of them, they’d been unloading the truck while the other sprinted to and fro getting everything into the house. 

“Uh, Yeah. we’d been hunting for a while, this one was just easy to love.”

“I feel like I should tell you something about-” He was cut off not by anything so convenient as words from an opposing voice but instead, an oddity to which he’d grown accustomed.

Across the street, there was a metallic twang, and loud bang, before a young man bolted laughing from Miss Tarana’s garage in a dark plume of smoke. The small miss, the actual owner of that house, threw something of hers, one of her boots, at the young man’s head, seemingly knocking the young man out.

It wouldn't have been surprising knowing how heavy her shoes were, but then again, whoever’s fool enough to bother the woman should probably have a reason to think they were impervious.

Then he saw who it was, the Hoyer boy. That kid was a dang nuisance, and his stalking of Miss Tarana was just about the only downside of having that young woman as a neighbor.

“I’ve told you before, my basement is off limits!”, she screamed at him, with a repetition that Harold could’ve timed even if he were in his own house. He looked over to see that their new neighbors were just as transfixed, as Hoyer scrambled picking up the boot on his way.

“You shouldn’t draw lines if you don’t want me to cross em”, his gestures became dramatic, “Curiosity fulfills me after all.”

“You’d be fulfilled with my boot if your head wasn’t already up there!”

“Sounds like it, Alien!”

“I’d have you on a spit, if not for the poison of your ignorance!” Miss Tarana crossed her arms, “You need to go away now. I need to assess damages.”

“As if! I’m not gonna just-”

She was already looking away from him, “I’ll get your father to pay for it, I can’t know how disappointing it is to raise someone so unencumbered by sense.”

“That’s not-”

She pointed at him, “You need to go home now. And you need to be something other than entertainment for my neighbors. You embarrass us both.”

Hoyer stilled, before turning around and leaving, still clutching her boot. 

“Did that have anything to do with what you wanted to tell us?”, The kid in the hoodie asked.

“No, that’s just- them.” Howard coughed, “I was only gonna tell you about the break ins. I’d forgotten that all this might need some explanation.”

“That sounds great. We probably won’t be good marks though, at least with our habits.” he sniffed the air, and scrunched his nose as if he smelled something truly foul, Howard couldn’t make out what it was. Something funky.

Neither of them could find its direction of origin. So they turned back to their neighbor’s.

Miss Tarana had already retired to her house when they turned back to look. Howard hadn’t expected the show at all that day, but he was certain that their new neighbors would be in good spirits living here. 

At least he thought so, he made his goodbyes before reentering his house. He needed some coffee on his throat for whatever was making it sore.

…

It was a little past 3 AM, and Howard was tired.

It was snowing, if that made any sense. Some kind of anomalous event had made the temperature drop to the point that it wasn’t just cool and wet outside, but actually snowing.

Howard didn’t like this one bit, though he was happy that the wind seemed to be without bluster. He kept watching, a bit restless with his cold.

It had been a few days since the strange incident, and his throat wasn’t feeling better at all. He should’ve known that that was the beginnings of some sort of infection.

Howard realized he was staring a bit too absently, as he saw Miss Tarana walking over covered from head to toe with winter paraphernalia.

Miss Tarana never liked winter, she never decorated her house for the holidays, or really left her home those months. Holding up like the world’s smallest bear. He did sometimes see her ‘assistant’ though, he would say that his sister was ‘hibernating’ if he ever asked about it.

Howard was never quite sure about that kid, he’d seemed absent minded for whatever use he was.

He also didn’t know what Miss Tarana did for a living, but Howard knew that she rarely got deliveries, or left her house for anything like groceries.

He supposed a person could live off hydroponics in their basement, but that would be assuming a lot. He turned on his television, to channel 4 or maybe it was 7 and sat down to relieve his lungs of fluid. The man said something about the expected fall out in their area, and Howard just about hacked up a lung when some places farther south were mentioned. His less interesting neighbors were probably just as bum flustered as he was.

It was around 4 AM, when someone knocked on his door. His house wasn’t looking so great, with his recent sickness, but he didn’t have it in him to be embarrassed about it.

He opened his door to Miss Tarana, looking incredibly frazzled. “Do you mind spitting in this?” she asked, presenting him with a small capped test tube.

He took it before asking, “alright, how much?”

She took it back from him, and with a sharpie marked the middle line of the vessel. Before handing it back.

“Well, that’s a lot,” he didn’t think he’d managed that in an hour, even with his currently excessive mucus.

“It really isn’t, I’d rather not bother you for more than one battery of tests. I asked the same of the other’s on this street.”

“why?”

“They seemed sick, at least by behavior. You also,” she motioned for the spot beside his, “you saw all that a few days ago? Didn’t you?”

“Yes, I’d never heard your Insults in full before.”

“Really? I’d thought we’d been loud before.” she responded with mirth, whatever had had her worried about it was left unremarked upon, as she stayed with him for the rest of the day. As if it couldn’t possibly be an inconvenience.