▸ Column · Modern-day Forest Hills, Queens — Marvel's New York
SPIDER-MAN replies.
Replied to by Spider-Man, with a rebuttal from Green Goblin.
The letter
I've had the best Christmas display on Ridgeway Place for eleven straight years. We're talking 14,000 synchronized lights, a hand-wired nativity scene, and a mechanical reindeer I named Buttons who turns his head while "O Holy Night" plays. Cars slow down every December. It's kind of my thing, you know?
Then last week my neighbor Dean rolls out this 24-foot inflatable Santa. It's so tall it blocks the whole top half of my house from the street. Now all the cars that used to stop for my lights are just gawking at his giant balloon. And here's the thing — the Santa's arm is pointed right at my house. Three different kids have already asked their parents why "the big Santa is making fun of that guy." I caught Dean smirking at his mailbox yesterday and I'm pretty sure he angled the whole thing on purpose.
I don't know what to do. I could rent a 30-foot Frosty to fight back (honestly can't really afford it), or I could try to walk away with some dignity. I mean, I know I kind of started this by being the best house on the block for so long. But eleven years. Do I escalate or just let it go?
— Outgunned in Forest Hills
Spider-Man replies
Yeah, okay, I'm gonna be honest with you, and it might land like walking face-first into a webline. Ready?
You said it yourself — "a war I started by being the best on the block." That's you. Not Dean, not the inflatable, not Buttons. You.
I had something like this once. A gift I was genuinely proud of, and I started using it for the crowd — for the pointing fingers, the attention, the win. Turns out putting what you've got on display just to be the star of your own block never ends the way you think. My Aunt May used to say: the second you start reminding people you're the best, you've already stopped actually being it.
Here's the thing though — your lights are real. They've been somebody's favorite part of December for eleven straight years. That's not nothing. But they stopped being about Ridgeway Place the moment they became about beating whoever might show up next.
Don't rent the Frosty. You can't afford it, and going into debt over a neighbor's smirk is the worst deal in Forest Hills.
Knock on Dean's door. Tell him the Santa makes the whole block look good. Actually mean it. You'd be amazed what happens when one side just stops swinging.
The lights are better than this war. So are you, pal.
— Spider-Man
Green Goblin weighs in
Heh heh HEE HEE! "Knock on his door." That's the wall-crawler's great wisdom? Shuffle up to Dean and compliment the rubber monstrosity?
Here's what the spider won't tell you: Dean KNEW. He measured. He aimed that Santa. The smirk at the mailbox wasn't an accident — it was a declaration.
You don't extend an olive branch to someone who brought a glider to a pumpkin fight. You BUILD the Frosty. Go into debt. String up MORE lights until Dean's Santa looks like a birthday candle next to a searchlight. Make him understand what it costs to challenge the best.
The meek inherit nothing but a very clear view of an inflatable backside.
ESCALATE.
— Green Goblin
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