2025-10-25






2025-10-25

Bartholomew and the Bylaw Brigade

Mr. Harrison, a man whose only hobby was complaining to the Homeowners Association (HOA), discovered that his true nemesis was not Mrs. Henderson's overly tall gnome collection, but a squirrel named Bartholomew.

Bartholomew wasn't just any squirrel; he was a highly efficient, hyper-organized, and aggressively litigious rodent.

It started subtly. Harrison noticed tiny, folded paper scraps littering his lawn. One morning, he found a miniature envelope taped to his prize-winning petunia. Inside was a meticulously written note, typed on what looked like stolen receipt paper:

Dear Occupant (Lot 4B),

This serves as a formal violation notice (Ref: Code 312.4, Sub-section B: Unauthorized Accumulation of Foodstuff on Shared Property). Your chestnut inventory is currently 17% over the seasonal limit. You have 72 hours to relocate the excess nuts to a designated off-site facility (currently, the neighbor's dilapidated shed).

Failure to comply will result in an immediate lien on your garden hose. See attached invoice for inspection fee (3 acorns, premium grade).

Sincerely,
Bartholomew P. Whiskers,
Director of Seasonal Asset Management, District 4

Harrison was beside himself. He tried to ignore it, but the violations escalated. The next day, Bartholomew had constructed a tiny, three-foot-tall wooden desk in the middle of the lawn, complete with a miniature "HOA Office" sign carved into the wood. The squirrel wore a tiny, ridiculously serious pair of reading glasses perched on his nose.

When Harrison tried to shoo him away, Bartholomew squeaked, "Sir, I require a permit application (Form 52-G) before you can initiate contact within operating hours. Also, where is the carbon copy of your recent seed spill remediation?"

Exasperated, Harrison finally conceded and dumped an entire bag of peanuts into the yard, hoping to bribe him.

Bartholomew, abandoning his desk, descended upon the pile like a furry, furious accountant. He meticulously picked up each peanut, inspected it for quality, and then started arranging them into neat columns.

"This is unlogged income!" Bartholomew shouted, stamping his tiny foot. "Do you have the necessary documentation? I'm going to need three copies of the W-9 form and proof of purchase, or these are subject to immediate seizure for public works projects (i.e., my winter stash)."

Harrison retreated indoors, locking the door. Outside, Bartholomew stood guard over a mountain of meticulously organized legumes, the tiny reading glasses catching the sun, having successfully turned a simple backyard into a bureaucratic nightmare.
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