Let Bylaws Be Bylaws

No one can escape the watchful eye of the homeowner's association. Fantasy short story.

Norman Weber sat in the back of room 113 at the Brumwell Township offices, waiting for the homeowner’s association meeting to start, clicking his pen nervously while scanning the room for allies. His wife, Mildred, was chatting away with a few of the neighborhood gals, unaware that enemies were afoot, watching, waiting to strike. According to Norman that is.

At exactly 6pm, the HOA board filed into the front of the room, taking their seats simultaneously at two long folding tables. Secretary, Beth Price, began silently counting attendees, pointing at each person, executing one of her few sworn duties. After finishing she made a note, turned to acting president Jim Gorski, and spoke.

“We have a quorum. You may proceed,” Beth said.

Norman turned to his wife and whispered, “Let the inquisition begin.”

“Hush, you,” Mildred whispered back, removing the pen from Norman’s hand so he would stop his incessant clicking.

Wiping his sweaty palms across his khaki shorts, Norman tried to keep his anger and frustration in check. It was their first time attending an official meeting, but he was quite familiar with the association. The Webers had moved into the retirement community the previous year, earning three bylaw infractions already.

The first violation was for resurrecting a small, white picket fence that lined their front sidewalk — decorative only. It didn’t matter. No fence of any kind was allowed, so Norman used the wood for kindling in his neighbor’s fire pit. The fumes from the fresh paint made everyone nauseous.

The second violation was for an unapproved shutter color. Cherry red was too bright, in contrast to the pale uniformity saturating the Brumwell Cove subdivision. Wine or burgundy was the more appropriate shade. A letter of reprisal accompanied by a paint swatch indicating as much, was taped to their screen door.

The third violation happened after the Webers returned home from a two-week vacation visiting their children on the West coast. They discovered Gary, maintenance board member, on their front lawn, with a ruler stuck in the grass. Norman was too tired from the drive to argue, instead taking a flier from Gary for lawn care.

“Now that Beth has finished reading the minutes from last month’s meeting, let’s get right down to it,” Jim said. “We have the honor of welcoming the Webers to the meeting. Welcome, Norman and Mildred.”

Attendees clapped as Mildred stood up to wave hello, backhanding Norman on the shoulder to do likewise. He squatted forward off his chair ever so slightly, sitting back down after a paltry wave. I see what they’re doing, Norman thought. I’m not letting my guard down for a second.

“First on the agenda, oh, I see,” Jim said, looking down at a piece of paper. “It’s a concern raised by the Webers. You have a rebuttal to the claim you are in violation of article seven, section two-point-three in the bylaws,” Jim said.

“Yeah, I…” Norman said.

“Please stand and speak. I apologize, we don’t have microphones, so it’s difficult for those of us who are a little hard of hearing,” Jim said.

Mildred elbowed Norman, nudging him to stand and face judgment. He took a deep breath and rose to his feet.

“As I was saying, I can’t offer a rebuttal because I don’t know what article seven, section two-point-three has to do with us,” Norman said.

“Well, let’s go ahead and read it.”

“No, I mean…”

“The article is entitled Dwelling, and the section is entitled Permanent Inhabitants of Non-familiar Members. It states that, At no time shall anyone other than immediate family members take up permanent residence in a homeowner’s dwelling without the expressed approval of the board. Did you get a copy of the bylaws, Norman? It’s right there, clear as day.”

“Yes, I have a…”

“Beth, be sure to get the Webers a copy to take home.”

“Jim, I’m pretty sure I sent them one when they moved into the neighborhood,” Beth said.

“Hmm, it could have gotten lost in the mail I suppose,” Jim said.

“We don’t have anyone else living with us!” Norman shouted.

Jim cleared his throat. Several homeowners shuffled uncomfortably in their seats. 

“That’s simply not true. You’ve had a brownie living with you for the last six months,” Jim said.

“He lives in the walls, not inside the home. How can you possibly argue that it’s the same thing? Besides, as I understand it, Jim, you and the other board members have had house elves for years.”

Norman had done his research, steadying himself for a showdown of epic proportions.

“We were grandfathered under the old bylaws. It’s the very reason why you won’t hear any complaints about the dragon living in the Peterson’s tree house.”

“How convenient that everyone on the board was grandfathered. I’ve spoken with a few of the other homeowners that are just as fed up with all of these rules,” Jim said, looking around the room for comrades. “Tom, I see you back there. You said just last week that your daughter wanted a miniature unicorn for her birthday. Do you really want to have to get permission for that?”

“Well, I guess it would be nice not to have to pay the fee,” Tom said.

“Hold your horses there, Tom,” Jim said. “Have you ever seen what unicorn poop does to a lawn? Do you really want to be vacuuming glitter up off the grass every day? That’s why we have these rules!”

“I suppose I see your point,” Tom said. “Sorry, Norman.”

“Have you all gone mad? It’s a brownie! They’re just the sort of live ins you want. Our leaky faucets — fixed. New tile in the downstairs bathroom — done. Fresh paint in the foyer — beautiful. How can that be so bad?” Norman asked.

“I read in the pages of Fantastic Times that we’re not supposed to use the term brownies anymore. The politically correct term is free range spirits,” Beth said to no one in particular.

“See here, Norman, I know it’s been a rough start to your first year, but we really do need to enforce the rules for everyone’s benefit. Have you thought about temporarily employing the services of a fairy or a garden gnome?” Jim asked.

Mildred stood up, slipping her hand into Norman’s, in an effort to calm him. As usual, she would have to be the voice of reason.

“Jim, it’s one thing to be calling into question the use of brownies. I’ll not have you maligning my reputation by insinuating my prize-winning azaleas require the assistance of a garden gnome,” Mildred said.

“Surely, that’s not what I meant to…” Jim started to say.

“House repairs are for younger, magically inclined folk — certainly not retirees. Norman’s back and heart aren’t what they used to be, and he is under strict orders from his doctor not to do any heavy lifting. Janet Peterson informed me that a medical issue is an extenuating circumstance for the use of assistance creatures.”

Jim smiled, warm and friendly, letting his guard down, knowing full well that Mildred had uncovered the rarely used clause. There was no use arguing anymore.

“Yes, you are correct. If you can provide a doctor’s note then the brownie may remain an inhabitant,” Jim said. “See, Norman, we’re not so bad after all. I’m happy we managed to find a compromise.”

Norman grunted and the Webers took their seats.

“Alright, onto the next item on the agenda,” Jim said. “We need to hire an exterminator for the gremlins dismantling the playground equipment.”