The Neighbors: John Persons Comics

John Persons sits alone in his living room, watching TV. The screen shows a live feed of the empty house two doors down. He takes a bite of a tuna noodle casserole. He smiles. Barely.

A quiet cul-de-sac at dusk. Identical houses with different shades of beige siding. A single figure stands on a perfectly manicured lawn: John Persons , 40s, plain gray sweatshirt, holding a pair of hedge clippers. He’s not trimming anything. He’s just standing there, staring at the house two doors down.

“The neighbors come and go. But John Persons remains. Always watching. Always waiting. Always… neighborly.” The Neighbors John Persons Comics

“They moved in on a Tuesday. That was the first mistake.”

Mark laughs. Throws the charter away. That Friday, no corn. Instead, he leaves a note: “John—let’s talk this out like adults. —Mark” John Persons sits alone in his living room, watching TV

“The old neighbors knew the rules. Wave, but don’t talk. Mow on Sunday, not Saturday. Never, ever look in the basement windows after 9 p.m.”

Mark finds the charter online. Rule 47: “Neighbors shall not engage John Persons in conversation regarding weather, sports, or casseroles.” Rule 48: “Neighbors shall leave one (1) unopened can of sweet corn on their front porch every Friday evening.” Rule 49: “Neighbors who break Rules 47–48 will be ‘neighborly visited.’” He smiles

That night. Mark and Lisa are in bed. Lisa whispers, “He’s weird, but harmless, right?” Mark shrugs. “Just a loner.” From their window, they see John Persons’s silhouette standing perfectly still in his backyard. Facing their house. Not moving for three hours.

Saturday morning. Mark wakes up. His lawn is gone. Not dead—gone. In its place: dark, wet soil. And written in the dirt in six-foot letters: “NO.”