Mikalatos: Neighbors! Attend to my call! Look unto the northwest region of our neighborhood! What do you see there?
Neighbor Chorus: Only the abandoned house which has become a garden of weeds, a haunt of ghuls, a repository of our curses.
Mikalatos: Look unto the garden of weeds, my friends. What do you see?
Chorus: Behold! The weeds have disappeared as silently as the neighbors themselves.
Mikalatos: Yes, for I took my lawn mower, whose name is Arondight, and I did a great and mighty work upon the monstrous weeds which had threatened to rule over us. And do you know what I found beneath those tree-like weeds?
Chorus: Was it a dead mouse?
Mikalatos: Yes, I did find a dead mouse. But that is not the thing of which I speak.
Chorus: Was it a phone book?
Mikalatos: Yea, verily, I did find even three phone books beneath the shade of the weeds, bereft of their plastic coats and discarded there by careless owners or strange miscreants of yellowed pages. But this also is not the thing of which I speak.
Chorus: Soda bottles? Beer cans? Hidden shrubbery?
Mikalatos: Yea, all these things and more I found. Arondight stutttered when first she found a phone book, and I feared she would not stir to life again. She cried out in a shriek of metal and plastic upon the discovery of the empty bottles. She held herself back at the sight of a hidden shrub, rescued by her twin blades from the desperate shadows which had threatened and choked it. Cigarettes I found and an abundance of discarded trumpery. But even these are things of which I do not speak.
Chorus: You amaze us with your tale. What did you find beneath those weeds, O Neighbor?
Mikalatos: A treasure, my friends, and one which I will take in payment for my mighty deeds of renown.
Chorus: We have seen no treasure. What treasure do you speak of? Is it the treasure of a job well done? Is it the treasure of a good deed which will bring you much pleasure? Is it the treasure of the pleasure of looking across the street and seeing your handiwork displayed for all to see?
Chorus: We are unable to continue. Our imaginations fail us and words come only haltingly to our tongues.
Mikalatos: Here is the tale of the treasure. After my task was completed I spied a hole in the ground, previously covered by the noxious weeds. A moment of contemplation encouraged me to thrust my arm into the hole and here is what I found: a tiny thing like a man in a blue coat, and his wife, who was like a rabbit. He thanked me bravely for my unasked for kindness, although I had nearly collapsed his home with Arondight. And in token of his favor he gave me a silver flute, marvelously small, and when I play upon it he has promised that my garden will grow in unaparalleled splendor, and money will fall out of all our pillowcases, and the frogs surrounding out house will sing lullabies for our children in voices sweet as honey.
Chorus: Whoa. That's really weird.
Mikalatos: I know, right? I thought that was weird, too.