station when residents have fuel available right here in the community. Consider it a tax for the
eyesore."
I let out a dry laugh. "Brenda, this is private property, and this is my private fuel. The answer
is absolutely not."
Brenda's face contorted into a mask of pure outrage. The very idea of being told "no" seemed
to short-circuit her brain.
"You are hoarding community resources!" she shrieked. "You gave it to that old man Orion for
free!"
"I helped a neighbor in a crisis," I replied calmly, my military training kicking in to keep my
voice perfectly level. "Now, I need you to step off my property."
Instead of leaving, Brenda reached into her designer handbag, pulled out her latest-model
iPhone, and dramatically dialed 911.
"Yes, police?" she wailed into the phone, her voice suddenly transforming from an aggressive
bark to the trembling whimper of a terrified victim. "I need help immediately! There's a man in
my neighborhood—he's being extremely hostile! He's threatening me and aggressively hoarding
dangerous chemicals!"
I just stood there, shaking my head. The smell of diesel mixed with the pure desperation of her
stunt hung in the cold morning air.
Ten minutes later, a county sheriff's cruiser pulled up to my curb with its lights flashing. Two
officers stepped out, hands resting cautiously on their belts. Brenda immediately rushed over to
them, pointing at me and hyperventilating for dramatic effect.
"He came at me!" she cried. "I was just asking about neighborhood safety, and he threatened
me!"
The older officer, a seasoned sergeant named Miller, approached me. "Sir, what's going on
here?"
I calmly set my rag down. "Officer, I was fueling my truck on my private property. Mrs.
Ashworth trespassed, demanded I fill her personal vehicle with my private fuel for free, and
when I refused, she called you."
Brenda scoffed loudly. "He's lying! He's a violent man!"
I smiled slightly and pointed up at the eaves of my workshop. "I have four high-definition
security cameras with audio recording every inch of this driveway. Would you like to review the
footage in my garage, Sergeant?"
Brenda went incredibly pale.
Sergeant Miller looked from the cameras to Brenda, his expression hardening. "Ma'am, is