For decades, Lake Woebegone was as quiet as a sleeping bass. On the north shore sat Lavoria Hickenlooper, a woman who wore faded flannel like a second skin. Her rustic wilderness cabin was a monument to peeling paint and mossy shingles.

Across the narrow expanse of water, the south shore had always been home to Old Man Higgins, who shared Lavoria’s passion for the quiet of nature.

When Higgins sold his property to a retired real estate mogul named Conn Frumpe, the peace of the wilderness shattered like cheap glass. Conn did not do quiet.

Within six months, Higgins’ patchwork cottage was replaced by a three-story glass behemoth that resembled a stranded cruise ship, with a huge dock capable of mooring said ship. Conn arrived with a fleet of jet skis, a sound system that blasted heavy rock across the water, and a megaphone he used to argue with stockbrokers.

Lavoria grimly endured the blasting music and loud parties........

© Peterborough Examiner