The Nefarious Neighbor

The Brute and I have never gotten along. You could say we’ve been enemies for all of our lives. And to make matters worse he lives right across the street from me. His real name is Brutus, but he likes to go by The Brute on account of thinking of himself as a strong, fierce competitor. I like to think of him by another definition though: a big beast who lacks intelligence. Every day I get up to have my breakfast in the kitchen, then I make my way to the living room to sit in the warm yellow glow of the morning sun as it shines through the bay window. Then I wait. As usual, when the clock strikes ten he appears in the front yard walking along his gate. Waiting. I get down from the window and go over to the door. Today is the day. I pump myself up with my usual pep talk. Anytime we meet there is a fight. My job is to protect this city, well the people on this block and The Brute has wreaked havoc long enough. It’s time for justice. 

The neighborhood has always been a friendly and safe place. Neighbors helping neighbors, always watching out for one another. We felt secure in the fact that our belongings were safe, that our families were safe. We never feared for our lives. But that all changed once The Brute came around. We found ourselves having to stay on guard at all times. We couldn’t walk the streets alone, especially the younger ones. The Brute’s large demeanor and red bloodshot eyes would send shivers down their spines. 

 I remember our first meeting like it was yesterday. It was a crisp cool morning in the middle of October about 8 years ago. I was much younger then and so was he. There I was outside minding my own business, walking the streets and keeping an eye on things as I did every morning… Before that day changed everything. I was passing by the house- his house- which had been abandoned only a day before when I felt something large grab me from behind. He held me tight before slinging me high into the air. His strength was that of which I have never felt before. I will never forget the dispassionate look on his face during this callous act or the way he seemed to snarl at me as I flew across the sidewalk and into the next yard. I landed with a thud about twenty feet from the house and into Mrs. Addington’s prized petunias. She was livid when she found out what had happened and has never forgiven us since. 

But it didn’t stop there.  As The Brute began to become even more comfortable with the neighborhood he seemed to enjoy the fact that he scared others. Almost as if he was proud of his actions. It started with small crimes here and there. Scaring children, taking things from others’ houses and yards. But it quickly got out of control. He began to turn to violence to get what he wanted. The atmosphere started to change. It was as if a heavy storm cloud hung above the block at all times. It had become darker. People began to  stay locked in their houses, some only came out when they knew The Brute would be gone, others moved away completely. The streets were empty and quiet, just as he liked them to be. He had gained control of everything and everyone. It was during this time that I realized purpose in life. What I was meant to do… I would come to be the protector of the neighborhood. I couldn’t sit back and watch as my friends and family became mere versions of their former selves. It’s not for lack of trying that I have yet to defeat him. He is strong and has gained plenty of protection over the years. So it has become an endless game between us, each of us continuously thwarting the other’s plans. He is resilient and despite my valiant efforts neither of us have yet to prevail. 

I walk through the door. Stealthy and quiet. I walk along the side of the house and make my way to the bushes that run along my side of the street. They have grown just big enough that I can hide among them. I watch as he continues to pace up and down his fence. He knows I am out here. Suddenly there’s a loud banging farther down the street. The Brute looks in the direction of the noise. It’s just a passing car, but it’s the distraction I need to make my escape from the bushes. I’m almost down the street when I hear his gruff voice calling after me. He doesn’t even take the time to open the gate. He scales it with amazing agility and begins to chase me down the street. I don’t get scared and I don’t lose hope. I still have a plan. 

I run as fast as I can through the neighborhood. Through yards, on sidewalks, under bushes, across streets. The Brute steadily gathering speed behind me the whole time. I turn a sharp corner at the end of the block this one lead to the main street. We are now out of our hushed and noiseless little community. I know without even looking back that he will have become more anxious of the car horns blaring, tires screeching, and passersby yelling. The sounds of the busy streets will start to overwhelm him and distract him, causing him to fall behind. The new sounds and smells will be too much.  I can now use my strengths against him. He may have ‘brute’ strength, but I can jump and climb far better than he can. I swiftly jump to the top of a large display outside of a bookstore. I use this to scale expeditiously along the buildings. Staying safely out of his reach. I glance behind me. I haven’t quite lost him yet. He is still watching me closely from the ground. 

He follows me for blocks. As I scale structures, dart along ledges, and jump from  building to building with ease All the while getting closer and closer beneath me. I come to the end of the line.There’s a break in the buildings allowing for a small alleyway to run along beneath me. I have no choice but to jump across to the next set. I study the distance between the buildings. I know I can make it. I bob up and down a few times in preparation before making the leap. I don’t quite make it. I crash against the side of the building. With all my might, I clutch the ledge. My bottom half desperately trying to clamber back up, but my feet can’t seem to get any traction. I’m losing time and losing grip. I have to let myself fall. I land with a loud boom on top of a large trash can in the alley.

 I hastily jump down and crouch beside the dumpster. The overflow of trash bags on the ground hiding me from view. He should catch up to me soon. I find a small opening in the pile; I watch and wait.  Sure enough, here he comes, sniffing around the alley. For a moment I fear I will lose the upper hand I have gained in the chase.  He can sense that I have been here. He looks around for a minute then seems to give up. I wait until he gets to the very end of the alley before I emerge. A small guttural growl escapes my lips as I stand at the opposite end glaring at him. The Brute slowly turns around. For one fleeting moment I seem to see fear pass over him. The hunter has now become the prey.  I make my way slowly towards him. One small slow step after the other. Never losing eye contact. I attempt to make my body appear bigger than it is. He takes a small step back in trepidation.  I have him now.  I launch myself at him as fast as I can. Gravel crunching and flying from beneath my feet as I speed towards him. He only has one choice. To run back into the safety of his own home. I now have him dazed and confused. He’ll be worn down and tired by the time we get back. So far this is going as planned.  I’m going to take him down on our block, where our feud first began. Life can finally return to normal. I so desperately want everyone to be free of The Brute. We weave our way back through the alleyways and surrounding areas towards home.

Finally, we circle back around the block. As we near the gate to his house I am gaining on him. He seamlessly jumps back over as I crawl under, not even worried about what may be awaiting me on the other side. I get in a piercing strike and he howls in pain. We stand there staring into each other’s eyes. Neither of us is willing to blink first. I narrow my eyes and start to attack when without warning I feel the broom whack against my side. Then “pow” it hits me in the face. I withdraw sharply, give one final hiss and cross the street back into the safety of my yard. I climb the stairs and paw at the door until it opens. Once inside, I realize how much the day has taken out of me. I go to my bowl of food to eat my dinner then return again to the window in the living room. I hop up and knead the warm blanket that has been put down in preparation of my return. ‘Muscled, black with steel green eye’, I stare out the window at the house across the street. I begin to establish a new plan. That mangy mutt has once again evaded vengeance, but I’ll be back for another duel tomorrow. Mark my words. There's a reason they call me... The Purrminator.