Crow: It Doesn't Taste Like Chicken

Our neighbors in Vermont hail from Long Island. They are Yankee fans. 2004 was a tough year for them (you may be familiar with the Biggest PostSeason Collapse In Baseball History) mainly because we were a-holes about the Red Sox beating the Yanks. We were smug. We were all up in their grills about it. It was our turn.

But last week, when we returned from a daytrip away from the lake, we found this broom and note on our back door (pictured above). It was their turn.

Ouch.

Of course, we were laughing our asses off, but sting it did. They brainstormed as fast as they could for the perfect prank--having only a few minutes to decide considering the game had just ended and we were on our way home--and when broom/sweep was settled on (mind you, this was 5 out of ouch ouch ouch ouch 5), Grandmother was worried that they weren't going to return her broom. Hilarious.

Then I called to "thank" them. Still coming over for drinks we hope, they asked.

My mom and I kept the note, and added a white papertowel to the tape on the end of the broom, grabbed a bottle of wine, a container of homemade meatballs and marched over with our surrender flag:


"We come in peace!"

They were kind enough to say that it wasn't as bad as a their playoff collapse. Whatevs.

It was a beatiful sunset on the lake that night.