Firearms

In one village, near a big city, there was a grandfather and a grandmother and they had a chicken, most likely - Ryaba, even a cow.
Their old, wooden house for a hundred years, clinging to it, kept on the side of a rather steep hill and the lower part of the garden almost reached the lake.
"Nearly," because between the land of the elderly and the lake, once there was an empty, no-one's place, but now this land was purchased by a bad man from the city and built a three-storey house on it.
Well, okay – in tightness – not in insult.
It turned out to be insulting...
The new neighbor very much wanted to swallow the whole lake, but he was not allowed, because it is a people's estate and it is sold for quite another money.
But the man did not despair, it did not work legally, he began to act de facto.
He brought a bunch of livestock rings with bear teeth and periodically released them to the shore to chew.
And the knots joke. In six months, several village dogs were bitten and a fisherman was bitten.
People, from sin, began to make a kilometre-long hook to stay away from this edge of the lake.
But our elderly, who lived in the neighborhood, were more concerned not with the complicated access to the lake, but with the daily risk of fire.
At the very bottom of their garden, there was a wooden stallion with wood, and immediately behind the stallion, the land of the "director of the lake" began. There, "back to back" grew a huge mangal for the frying of whole elephant bodies.
And this mangal never stood.
Nearly every day, a crowd of friends came to the neighbor from the city to dive into the cold lake after a bath and eat another fried elephant under the stunning music.
The burning mangal more resembled a fire in the jungle, the spark of its fire flew up dozens of meters.
The old man several times went to the audience to the new neighbor, so not determined to call "neighbor", such a serious and important person.

And every time I received a short response in elevated tones:
Do you not like my mango? Will the wall of the barracks burn? Well, so when it burns, then we'll talk, and so far, grandfather, don't shake my head, go home, I won't give you money...
Five-year-old man rejected in the back:
- I don't need money from you, I just wanted to ask that you move your fire from the fence for at least two meters, because if it burns, it will be too late, the fire with the straw will spread to the cowhouse, and then to the house... We will burn with the grandmother.
- This is your difficulty, you are afraid of fire - remove the shell. And where in my land I put the mangal is only my problem. I will not go into your garden, and you will not teach me to live.

Time went by, the wall of the barley was all blackened and heated, sometimes it even had to be watered to cool a little.

The fire would have ended if one beautiful morning the granddaughter and granddaughter had not come to visit the elderly.
In the evening, the son-in-law admired the pioneer fire behind the fence, looked at the new neighbor, his guests and dogs, felt the hot wall of the barley and began to think.

The next morning he left for the whole day and returned only for the evening, but not alone, but with a tractor loaded with a huge, rusty, railroad tank without wheels.
They called the men from the village, unloaded the tank and installed it across the mountain, in a safe place in front of the barracks, and so that it would not suddenly turn, tightly tied a rope to a thick tree.
In the morning, the “director” of the lake woke up from the monotonous choking of a working pump. I woke up and went out of the house in a crazy mood. He noticed behind the fence a thick wooled hose coming from the lake, went up on it, relying on the evil 20-ton tank and asked his grandfather and grandmother:
What a fucking thing you did here!? to
The son approached, greeted and replied:
Here the tank is poured to extinguish the fire in case of something.
What a cistern? What a fire? You don’t see that there is a twilight of forty degrees, and if this fool with the water doesn’t hold up and roll down, then what?
The Cousin:
That was the case, so it was planned. See - here is the rope, it holds the tank, and next to it all the time will be a fire shaft, and if suddenly, don't give God, a fire will occur in the barracks, then the rope will quickly be cut off with a shaft, the tank will crash from place, roll down under the mountain and extinguish the fire. All is simple.

So she won’t soak it, but will crush it like a cake!
The fire will extinguish.
What a fire? And if the rope itself: rubs, breaks, I don’t know, and this shit goes down, then not only your dirty rope, but my whole house will fall. Remove it from her!
The Cousin:
- Dear man, let us agree this way: we do not teach you where on your land to put the mangal, and you do not climb into our garden. This is when the cistern will collapse, overwhelm your house, pavilion, bathroom and get to the lake, then we will talk, and so far - all the good...

The next day, the “director” of the lake moved his mangal away from the fence, but the tank still continued to hang over his life.

Soon the neighbor came and emphasized politeness, tried to buy their land from the elderly, but they refused, the "director" fell on the fire tail near the tank, did not argue, but quietly departed.

Since then, he has tried to spend less time in his gorgeous house and eventually sold it by the winter.