Keeping It Up With The Joneses Jab !exclusive!

"Morning, Simon," Marcus called out, his voice smooth and loud.

They stood there for a moment, two silhouettes against the ambient glow of the heated driveway. The neighbors were still milling about, judging the décor, counting the costs. keeping it up with the joneses jab

For three weeks, the cul-de-sac hummed with the noise of construction. "Morning, Simon," Marcus called out, his voice smooth

Simon hired a crew. Not just a landscaping crew, but an architectural renovation team. He didn't just fix the fence; he installed horizontal cedar slats with steel posts, a design so modern it made Marcus’s brickwork look Victorian. For three weeks, the cul-de-sac hummed with the

Intellectually, he knew what Marcus was doing. It was a classic backhanded compliment—the "you're so brave for wearing that" of suburban warfare. Marcus was calling him poor, boring, and complacent.

"It’s the only thing on this street that actually matters," Simon said.

Marcus took the glass, confused. He looked at the liquid, then at Simon. The tension in his shoulders dropped. He took a sip.