Gemotions

He glared at the tiny, meticulously sculpted topiary in the neighbor's front yard. A perfectly shaped poodle, perpetually poised. The complaint had been delivered in person this time, a thin-lipped woman in a floral dress, clutching a teacup like a weapon. "The music, dear," she had simpered, "It's simply… disruptive." His hand tightened on the hose, the spray of water arching over the grass. Disruptive? He’d been playing the same song for three hours, a classic rock anthem. Did these people even *live*? He let the hose drop, the water spreading out on the lawn like a puddle of his own mounting irritation.