Even Steven for Steve (short story 23)

Over a year ago, as an exercise, I started writing one short story a week. This was something Harlan Ellison (I think) suggested to one of his fans, his reasoning being "You can't write 52 bad short stories in a row." I'm not sure about that, but here's one of those stories.



*
Steve doesn’t like his neighbor Rudy. There were lots of reasons. Some- times Rudy would go into his garage while Steve was at work and “borrow” something. If it was gone, Steve knew where to go. And it doesn’t matter if Steve tells Rudy to ask first. Rudy does what he wants when he wants to. Sometimes Rudy would dump his yard waste behind Steve’s bushes in the back of his yard. Is there any point in listing all the reasons? Not really. The point is, Steve doesn’t like Rudy.
Don’t think Steve was an anti-social type, nor that he’s just a stingy miser. His friend Leon comes over frequently, and when he’s over he eats from the friedge like it’s his food. The point here is that Steve also goes over to Leon’s and acts the same way. Even Steven, as the cliche goes (yes folks that pun was intended).

In fact, just the other day, Steve made a big pot of turkey soup and vegatables and invited Leon over for a meal. “Good, but a little plain,” Leon says.
“Add what you want,” Steve says, pushing salt, pepper, spices across the table.
Leon adds a lot of pepper, “That’s it,” Leon slurps with a satisfied smile. Steve looks at the amount of pepper Leon added with disapproval.
“Say, can I borrow a tupperware bowl and take some home with me?” Leon asks.
“Why not just come over? I love sitting down with someone else over soup,” Steve says. “Or, just come over can grab some yourself, if I’m working in the yard or something.”
“Hey, thanks Steve. You’re cool,” Leon says. Leon lives in the house behind him, and can just cut through their backyard.

So when Rudy “borrows” something from Steve without asking, or has his pets take a crap in his yard, Steve takes offense. It’s rude. So, to teach Rudy a lesson, Steve’s has taken to devising an appropriate response. An eye-for-an-eye sort of thing.
When Rudy took a hammer for the third time without asking, Steve pounded a nail into one of his tires. Then, Steve’s the first to tell Rudy about the “vandal attack.” Steve walks over to Rudy’s house, and knocks on the door politely.
Rudy opens, “Hi Steve, what’s up?” Rudy asks.
“Did you see what some asshole did to your car?” Steve asks. “Come here.” Steve leads Rudy to the back left tire of Rudy’s car. There’s a flat tire with a nail in it, and a hammer lying nearby.
“Holy shit!” Rudy says.
“I know. Hey, is that my hammer?” Steve asks, picking it up. “I thought it was lost.”
“Oh, I might have borrowed it from your garage and forgot to return it.”
“No, problem,” Steve says. “Sorry about your tire.” Steve walks back to his home with his hammer.
You get the idea?
Later that day, Steve has some soup. Leon wasn’t around, so he ate alone. Then he got a tummy ache. 

Was it a guilty conscience related to his vandalism, he wondered? He'd hear of these psychosomatic illnesses. He's a little worried.
But the Rudy’s car vandalism also gave Steve a sense of calm, as though the balance of the scales of justice has been restored. Steve says to himself “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” He thinks of himself as the arc. So when Steve got a stomach ache after the latest action of his moral arc, he figured maybe that's the price he has to pay to balance moral order in world.
The next day, after Rudy took a power drill for the second time without asking, Steve drilled several holes in each of Rudy’s Bonsai trees decorating his back porch. Steve walks over to Rudy’s house, and knocks on the door politely. Rudy opens, “Hi Steve, what is it this time?” Rudy asks.
“Did you see what that damn woodpecker did to your Bonsai garden in your back yard?” Steve asks. Steve leads Rudy to Rudy’s back yard.
“They’re all going to die now,” Rudy says. “They took years to grow and cultivate.”
“Bummer, dude. Hey, it that my power drill?” Steve asks, pointing to Rudy’s picnic table.
“Oh, maybe I borrowed it from your garage and forgot to return it.”
"Why is it wet?"
"It rained last night. Maybe I forgot to bring it in."
“Water under the bridge,” Steve says. “Sorry about your tree.” Steve walks back to his home with his drill. Later that day, Steve has some more soup. Leon wasn’t around, so he ate alone. Then, as before, he got a tummy ache.

Again, the nagging question, does he deep down feel sorry for killing the bonsai trees? He's a lot worried now. He calls up Leon. Leon would know. “Hey Leon, I have a question for you,” Steve says into the phone.
“I’m glad you called, I wanted to thank you for the soup,” Leon says. “You already did, the other day.”
“No, for lunch. You were over in Rudy’s back yard, so I helped myself. I love it with lots of pepper.”
“You added pepper to my soup?”
“Yeah, it’s too plain, don’t you think?”
“No, pepper gives me a tummy ache.”
“I’m sorry dude. Did I put in too much?”
Now Steve knows, it’s not a guilty conscience, it’s just pepper. Steve realizes where his tummy ache is coming from and is happy it isn’t from guilt at all. “Thank God for the pepper,” Steve says.
“What? You like pepper or you don’t?” Leon asks.
“Don’t woory, man. I’ll make a new pot of soup tomorrow. Come on over,” Steve says, hanging up the phone and smiling. He goes to his window and looks at Rudy’s house. “The moral arc of the universe is long and it bends towards fucking you up some more, Rudy you asshole.”