**Title: *The Mischievous Meteor***
A tiny meteor crash-landed in Mrs. Pepper’s tulip bed. By morning, it sprouted neon-blue vines that hummed *ABBA* tunes. Neighbors gathered, phones aloft, as the vines coiled around mailboxes, serenading dogs (who howled harmonies).
“Alien invasion!” declared Mr. Finkle, armed with a rake. He swung—*whack*—and the vine retaliated, launching his dentures into a tree.
Scientists arrived, baffled. The meteor winked (literally) and dissolved, leaving glittering soil.
Now, “Groovy Garden Tours” charge $20 a head. Mrs. Pepper sells “Space Jam” preserves. Mr. Finkle’s dentures? Still dangling—town’s quirkiest landmark.
