Damn Vandals

Street toughs vandalized the tennis courts where Mrs. Poop and I play during the warm weather.
We had planned to give her some pregnant exercise this spring and summer (while I restrained my enthusiasm to hit the ball as hard as I possibly can) but we're no longer sure if that's possible.
Yesterday while walking the dog, Mrs. Poop noticed that the nets on all four courts were damaged, making the courts unplayable. We then saw at least three hoods still loitering near the scene of the crime. We called township police, non-emergency. A few minutes later the cops came by, drove past the area twice, but never questioned any of the kids who were dispersing from the area.
I hope that our exorbitant association dues will help pay for the speedy repair of the nets before the weather warms again.
But I'm sure this will be a hot topic for discussion in the bi-weekly association newsletter that should be arriving wedged into our screen door soon.
The last scourge of the Association occurred last summer when vandals painted the word "death" on park benches. Then an urban myth grew out of it that anyone seated on the benches would die, or suffer the loss of a family member. According to reports, all the kids in the neighborhood were afraid to sit on the benches because of this.
And because the vandals were out every night, our handyman Hank couldn't repaint the benches fast enough.
Let's hope he's better at fixing tennis nets.