Finklestein shoveled more of the brown cuisine into his mouth. “I’m glad you guys decided to be good neighbors,” he said, chewing noisily. “I was getting tired of hauling your asses to court.”

The whole block despised the lawyer. He played his music loudly and at all hours, never watered or mowed his lawn, walked around his house naked, and sued anyone who complained.

He belched. “This is excellent stuff! What’s it called?”

“Doofgod,” Mr. Smith replied.

“Doofgod? That German?

Mr. and Mrs. Smith smiled and put their untouched plates on the floor for their Alsatian.

“You could say that.”