[SCENE START]
EXT. SUBURBAN DRIVEWAY - DAY
A bright, sunny day in a picture-perfect cul-de-sac.
ARTHUR stands on his lawn. It looks like a golf course—perfectly manicured, vibrant green. He holds a tape measure, measuring the exact distance from his driveway to the property line.
He stops. His eyes widen in horror.
A single, massive, neon-pink plastic flamingo sits exactly three inches over the line onto his grass.
Arthur looks up. Standing on the neighboring porch is BEATRICE, holding a mug of tea, smiling like a Cheshire cat.
ARTHUR
(Voice trembling with controlled rage)
Good morning, Beatrice. Beautiful day.
BEATRICE
Isn't it just, Arthur? The air feels so… vibrant today.
ARTHUR
Yes. Vibrant. I couldn't help but notice your… avian decor has migrated. It’s exactly three inches over the property line.
BEATRICE
(Gasps dramatically)
Oh, heavens! Penelope must have caught a gust of wind. You know how those lightweight plastics are.
ARTHUR
It weighs two pounds and is impaled into the dirt, Beatrice.
BEATRICE
Well, she likes the view from your side. Sharing is caring!
Arthur smiles—a terrifying, tight-lipped grimace. He reaches down, pulls the flamingo out of the dirt, and tosses it over his shoulder into her bushes.
ARTHUR
Oops. A gust of wind.
Beatrice’s smile vanishes. The war has begun.
EXT. SUBURBAN DRIVEWAY - NIGHT (A FEW DAYS LATER)
Darkness. A flashlight beam cuts through the fog.
Arthur is asleep inside. Outside, Beatrice is wearing a black tracksuit. She is pushing a heavy wheelbarrow.
With vicious delight, she begins planting a row of clumping bamboo—the fastest-growing, most invasive plant known to man—directly along the fence line.
BEATRICE
(Whispering)
Sleep well, Artie. Enjoy the jungle.
EXT. SUBURBAN DRIVEWAY - NEXT DAY
Arthur steps outside with his morning coffee. He takes a breath, looks down, and drops his mug. It shatters on the concrete.
A wall of thick, green bamboo stalks has sprouted overnight, blocking his view of the street.
From behind the bamboo, the obnoxious, chaotic clanging of twelve giant metal wind chimes begins to blast in the morning breeze.
Arthur twitching. He goes into his garage and emerges holding a commercial-grade weedkiller backpack and a pair of industrial hedge shears.
EXT. SUBURBAN DRIVEWAY - NIGHT
A massive thunderstorm rages. Lightning flashes.
Arthur is out in the pouring rain, wearing safety goggles, aggressively hacking away at the bamboo.
Suddenly, a bright spotlight hits him. Beatrice is standing on her roof, holding a high-powered megaphone and a super-soaker filled with liquid fertilizer.
BEATRICE
(Through megaphone)
STEP AWAY FROM THE FLORA, ARTHUR!
ARTHUR
(Yelling over the rain)
IT’S AN ENVIRONMENTAL HAZARD, BEATRICE! YOU’RE RUINING MY PH LEVELS!
BEATRICE
YOU HACKED MY HOSTA PLANTS IN '24, ARTHUR! I NEVER FORGAVE, AND I NEVER FORGOT!
Arthur lunges forward to snip a giant stalk. Beatrice fires the super-soaker, hitting him square in the goggles.
Arthur slips on the muddy grass, tumbling backward onto his own lawn. He sits up, covered in mud, looking at his ruined, torn-up turf.
He looks at the mud. He looks at Beatrice on the roof.
A slow, maniacal laugh escapes his lips.
ARTHUR
Oh... you want to play dirty?
EXT. SUBURBAN DRIVEWAY - THE NEXT MORNING
The storm has passed. The sun is shining.
Beatrice steps out onto her porch in her bathrobe, yawning. She looks over at Arthur's yard.
Her jaw drops.
Arthur’s lawn is gone. In its place, he has hired a construction crew overnight to dump ten tons of bright white gravel.
Sitting right in the center of the gravel, directly facing Beatrice’s front door, is a massive, ten-foot-tall, neon-lit billboard.
It blares a message in flashing pink lights:
"COMPLAINTS? CALL 1-800-EAT-SHIRT"
Arthur steps out onto his gravel porch, wearing sunglasses and a Hawaiian shirt. He sips a fresh cup of coffee and waves at her.
ARTHUR
Morning, neighbor! Love the new minimalist look I went for. Really opens up the block, don't you think?
Beatrice stares at the flashing neon sign. Her eyes narrow. She reaches into her robe pocket and pulls out her phone, dialing a number.
BEATRICE
(Into phone)
Yes, hello? I'd like to report a zoning violation. And yes... I'd also like to order three hundred roosters. Delivery address? Next door.
Arthur’s smile fades as he hears her. He slowly lowers his coffee mug.
[SCENE END]
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