From Mission Impossible To Mission Quite Possible

Equally nauseated by the sight of the wasteland AKA our front lawn as well as by the sprawling emerald green of my next-door neighbor's yard, I know I must do something.  Since I have already concluded that our yard is mission impossible I decide to focus my efforts and attention on something that is within my reach. With renewed determination I launch the 'Mission Possible', namely discovering a flaw in my neighbor's perfectly manicured yard.  I was left off in exactly this spot, crawling on all fours, with my son's microscope firmly attached to my eyeball.

I know that nobody is perfect, which assures me of the eventual success of my mission.  This is much more hopeful place than facing the depressing reality of what's going on within our property lines.  And I would much rather feel better about myself than worse.

After about an hour and a half of careful combing of his lush St. Augustine I am finally proven right! For there, in the middle of his yard, I spot an enormous mutant weed – and flowering weed at that! I am horrified and strangely pleased at the same time. I feel deeply justified for now I have solid proof that Mr. Perfect Lawn is not as perfect as he appears, evidenced by the aforementioned weed. I continue with my search with even more vigor and notify seven more mutants.

Strangely enough, most of the superhumongousy enormous mutant weeds are located right next to our property line. The total of three of those are already in bloom, ready to spread their nasty seeds and contaminate not only our small suburban enclave but our entire county and beyond.

A noble sense of civil duty interspersed with a powerful urge to advertise my findings sweeps over me. I must warn and protect our neighborhood. 

I must not allow this!  

While I am considering the best course of action to address the dire threat his yard represents to our peace and quiet,  I feel something wet and slippery smothering my face.