The Lawn By Mark Tarver “Don’t go on his lawn!” Kate shouted, as I halted to a stop. My favorite soccer ball, with white parts replaced with gray and black parts replaced blue, landed on Mr. Cropper’s lawn, the WORST neighbor ever. “That chump? Please, I’m not afraid of him!” But the truth was that I had slight discomfort with this. He always takes kids toys and never gives them back. Timothy’s trike, Sarah’s football, Jack’s Nerf Laser Ops Pro – any toy, gone. And, yes, he’s a stereotyped neighbor who is rude. And the elderly has an excuse because somethings in the modern age SUCK! But he’s only in his 30’s. And the CREPPY house. It’s an olive green with a red-brown mixed trim, and 2 stories of fear, like 1 wasn’t enough. Also, a tiny statue on the top of his triangle roof of a screaming man holding a “RUN… WHILE YOU CAN!” sign doesn’t help either. OF COURSE, he doesn’t have a drive way, so I can’t hide behind his car for cover. But this soccer ball was a present from my ...