Alpha, a sprightly 82 with a shock of white hair that defied gravity, hobbled purposefully towards his fence line. Today was the day! A year in the planning, a day etched in his memory with the fervor of a teenager’s prom. Today, he and Tango were finally going to hang that blasted sign.

Tango, his neighbor and co-conspirator in all things fence-related, was already there. At 78, he moved with the grace and speed of a sloth on Valium, but his mind, oh his mind, was a steel trap… usually. He squinted at Alpha, a confused frown furrowing his brow. “Alpha? What in tarnation are we doing out here again?” Tango rumbled, his voice like gravel in a blender.

Alpha blinked, momentarily thrown. “The sign, Tango! The Stay Out sign. Remember, Some Jack-wagon hopped the fence and stole the old Stay Out sign last year?”

Tango’s frown deepened. “Jack-wagon? Isn’t Jack the neighbor’s dog? They just moved in two months ago!”

A beat of silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the chirping of a nearby bird and the buzz of the Cicadas. Alpha cleared his throat, a nervous cough escaping his lips.

“Right, of course,” he chuckled, a sound suspiciously like sandpaper on drywall. “Well, regardless, the sign needs hanging. Deterrence and all that, you know?”

Tango squinted at the empty fence gate, then back at Alpha. A slow grin spread across his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“Alpha,” he wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye, “you magnificent old coot. We spent all last year planning how to hang a sign that’s been gone for months!”

The two men started cackling like hyenas, their laughter echoing through the quiet neighborhood. Maybe they weren’t getting any younger, but at least they could still laugh at themselves. Besides, if there was ever a need for a sign that read ‘Beware of Slightly Confused Old Men,’ well, that was a job for another day.

And now the “another day, another job” time has arrived

The memory of their sign-hanging fiasco still brought a chuckle to Alpha's lips as he surveyed the sorry state of the Enclave's flowerbed. It was an embarrassing snitcher to their combined forgetfulness – a big plot of churned-up earth, devoid of any floral charm.

"Tango!" Alpha bellowed across the manicured lawns of the HOA community. "Get yourself out here, we've got a doozy of a situation."

Tango shuffled out, his trusty gardening hat casting a shadow over his perpetually squinting eyes. "What's the rumpus, Alpha? Did another squirrel declare war on your bird feeder?"

Alpha chuckled, a dry rasp, just short of a growl, escaping his throat. "Worse, Tango. Much worse. Remember those Crepe Myrtles we were supposed to plant last spring?"

Tango's brow furrowed. "Spring? Isn't it, well, July now?"

A sheepish grin spread across Alpha's face. "About that…"

Tango's jaw dropped, his eyes widening like a startled owl. He surveyed the desolate landscape of the flowerbed, then back at Alpha with a mix of amusement and exasperation. "So, we dug all these holes for plants that never existed?"

"Well, they do exist," Alpha interjected defensively, "just not here. Seems we neglected to, you know, order them."

Tango threw his head back and let out a hearty guffaw. Tears welled up in his eyes as he wheezed, "Oh Alpha, you never cease to amaze me! What in the world are we going to do with all these holes?"

Alpha, ever the resourceful one, tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Well, Tango," he drawled, a glint in his eye, "I happen to have a surplus of something that might fill those holes quite nicely…and clean up my storage hut"

Tango's eyes widened further. "You don't mean…"

"Bingo!" Alpha grinned. "Twenty bags of deer corn, at your service!"

And so, the "Enclave All-You-Can-Eat Breakfast Buffet" was born. Every morning, at the peak of rush hour, a menagerie of creatures – deer, raccoons, the occasional possum, and always and small army of squirrels – descended upon the flowerbed, creating a traffic jam of epic proportions. Flustered residents honked their horns, late for their morning bridge games or pickleball matches, while Alpha and Tango watched from their windows, chuckling like naughty schoolboys.

Maybe their flowerbed wasn't a horticultural masterpiece, but it sure livened up the place, and who could put a price on a good laugh… especially when it came at the expense of a bewildered herd of deer and a gaggle of very impatient retirees?