“Afternoon, Deputy,” I said, keeping my voice conversational. “I’m just trying to gain access to my storm shelter. There’s a tornado watch starting in about two hours, and as you can see, someone has chained my door shut.”
Deputy Miller walked past Carol, ignoring her protests, and examined the heavy chain looped through the handles of the steel door. He tugged at the lock. It didn’t budge.
“Who put this lock on here?” the deputy asked.
“I did!” Carol declared, stepping forward with her chin held high. “And I have the full legal authority of the Mayberry Heights Homeowners Association behind me. Under section 7-C of our bylaws, any unauthorized structure modification that fails to meet aesthetic standards is subject to immediate restriction of access until a formal review can be conducted. He was warned.”
Deputy Miller looked at her, his brow furrowing. “So, let me get this straight, ma’am. You chained up a storm shelter? During a severe weather warning?”
“The finish on the door is semi-gloss, officer! The approved plans specified matte!” Carol argued, as if she were explaining basic arithmetic to a child
