Mrs. Johnson was setting up her table as usual when Mr. Davis, the grumpy neighbor from across the street, stormed out of his house, ready for a fight. I was astonished to see him beeline over to Mrs. Johnson.

“What’s all this noise?” he barked, waving his arms around. “And that smell? Must you really have a crazy party here every weekend?”

Mrs. Johnson jumped. “Oh, Mr. Davis, it’s just the kids’ lunch.”

“Well, I’ve had enough of it!” he snapped. “I’m calling the police. This isn’t a cafeteria.”