get off my lawn

Two large teenage boys stroll through my back yard. Grrrr.
I follow and find them at the edge of the pond looking at the recently arrived Mute Swan. Admirers of it’s beauty?
No. One throws a small stick.
I appear unexpectedly and now their backs are to the water.
“All Swans, wherever they are belong to the regent and they are under her protection.”
(I don’t know where I am getting this. King Arthur?)
“I don’t give a s#@t!”
My fangs are coming out. I take a breath.
“Her local representative does.”
“They not here!”
I advance a half step and I feel almost justified in my next lie.
My mother is English.
“I’m her local representative.”

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