The Neighbors

When the snowbirds fly home for summer, and the northbound car carriers are as packed as the buds on the Royal Poinciana trees, the month of May becomes quiet, and Marco Islanders have a chance to look around the neighborhood.

Throughout the winter season, the churches have a blessing and are full of the faithful from almost everywhere. The restaurants are simmering with waiting lists, and the hotels and condominiums are bulging with everyone who wants to be away from the gray skies, drizzling rain, and bone-chilling temperatures. When the island is bursting with bicycles, golf carts, and even sleepwalkers prowling in PJs, the relaxing pace of living in paradise can be lost under the frantic bustle of a community too busy to take notice. After the crowds disperse in May and the streets empty, the unusual and the bizarre can surface like a submarine in a swimming pool.

Even the most observant can fail to notice the subtle changes in a neighborhood during the hectic winter season. The absence of trash cans on trash day can be a red flag for trouble, as can a home with no activity for days. When the island and the streets become quiet, it can be easy to notice even the little things, but when bizarre and very unusual behaviors begin to baffle even the police, it might be time to scrutinize The Neighbors.

Once upon a Halloween, three Beach Boys were young, unmarried, and sharing a three-bedroom home on Marco. For Halloween, the smallest of the three Beach Boys dressed for a costume party as Batman, but when the very slight and short figure emerged for the party, the other two Beach Boys looked to each other with unstoppable smiles and announced the arrival of “Mouse Man.” The little guy, who was extremely funny and very easy to like, also cracked a smile beneath his Batman mask, and ever after, he became known to the household as “Mouse.”

When Halloween was past and the frantic winter season was finally over, the three Beach Boys in the rental home tried to relax. Everyone had a busy winter, but no one more than Mouse. Mouse worked three jobs. He worked all hours at banquets at a beachside hotel. He worked all hours serving breakfast, lunch, and dinner at a restaurant as the most popular waiter, and he filled in with a pool service company to maintain swimming pools whenever needed. Mouse might have been slight in stature, but his overwhelming ambition and his ever-ready smile captured every person he met. His smile was always bright and shining until it was not.

It was not until May that the strange things began to happen. Early one morning, two of the Beach Boys came out for work and noticed all of the neighbors out on the street and looking around for answers. Most of the trash cans from the homes were out at the curb, but it was not a trash pickup day. What was more disturbing was that even the homeowners with the trash cans in the unlocked garages were finding their trash and recycled cans out by the street. As everyone began to roll the trash receptacles back toward the supposed sanctity of their homes, they were all looking over their shoulders at each other. Everyone was looking but trying not to openly scrutinize The Neighbors.

About a week later, the neighborhood was once again out in force, but this time the police were also walking around. Every mailbox was open with the lid down, and any mailbox that was not steadfast in a concrete base was tilting drastically to one side. The neighbors were milling about, but no one was smiling because everyone was very busy studying all of The Neighbors.

During the following week, the next chapter in the bizarre arrived perhaps by happenstance, but nonetheless, the neighbors were all out again when a large murder of crows descended on the neighborhood. A murder of crows is the designated term for a group of gathering crows because of the dreaded association with murder, death, and the macabre. For the local neighborhood, however, the Marco murder of crows was more like a massacre because of the sheer numbers sulking in the trees and resting on every repaired mailbox and every yard ornament that was well suited for a creepy perch. After only a few moments of standing, staring, and listening to the cackling caws of the dreaded creatures from folklore, everyone began to turn away, lock their doors, and securitize through the safety of their windows, all of The Neighbors.

Although the activity outside the Beach Boy home was beyond bizarre - and sometimes noisy - Mouse slept through every early morning event. Mouse was always exhausted because he worked three jobs, but the neighborhood mystery was still a conundrum until Mouse went missing and a midnight knock on the door woke up the household.

The knock was from the police, and after a few questions and answers, the Beach Boys learned that “Mouse” was in the back of the patrol cruiser in his PJs. He was barefoot and his feet were muddy. Apparently, the police were called by a neighbor when, under the full moon, an elderly couple saw Mouse Man in his PJs watering their plants with a garden hose from the side of their house. The trash cans were also by the street, and their mailbox lid was yawning and open.

When the police released Mouse into the Beach Boy’s custody, he was, for once, not smiling because he was obviously sleepwalking. Apparently, Mouse was finding rest whenever he could after working a full season with three jobs and trying to help with everything, but he could not help with a large murder of crows on a tropical island and a street full of The Neighbors.