Neon on the Prowl

Decked out in fresh neon accents, staying cooped up inside wasn't an option. I pushed through the front screen door and marched down the porch steps onto the sunlit garden path. Right in the middle of the crushed-gravel walkway stood an overturned red plastic flowerpot, blocking my lane like a fortress turret. I jogged straight up to it, planted both hands against the curved rim, and tipped it back with a fierce heave. A dry pinecone and a shiny silver bottle cap spilled out into the dust. I kicked the cap ahead like a mini soccer ball, struck an electric victory pose on top of the tipped pot, and scoped out the rest of the yard.