Suburban Strife

On the front lawn next door, I saw Mark and Clay tussling. Clay’s father came out. He smiled, and urged Clay to sock Mark harder. When he lifted Clay onto Mark’s back, saying: “Get him like this!” I ran for help.
“Clay and Mr. Babcock are beating up Mark!” I shouted, bolting in the house. Libby, outraged, tore out of there. I followed.
“Stop it!” Libby yelled. The fight stopped. She faced Mr. Babcock: “Aren’t you ashamed? A grown man! Not only not stopping the fight, but encouraging it!”
A cold war ensued. When the Babcock’s eventually sold their house and boxed up their possessions, no one even said good-bye.