Neighborhood war

I was dreaming that I was pregnant, but my belly was no bigger than it is now. My friends already had showered me with baby gifts, and I was in the middle of explaining to my parents that I couldn't possibly be pregnant and thinking of a way to return all the bottles, onesies and stuffed animals. Then, I heard this deep loud noise, and woke up. I turned over and shut my eyes, trying to salvage the ten minutes or so until my alarm went off.
There it was again. The sound of a horn. Not a horn from a regular car, but a low sound that kids on school buses beckon for when they pass a semi truck on the road. Five minutes later, the horn sounded again. Only this time it was longer, sending vibrations through our house. Then yelling. And although I couldn't make out the words being exchanged, I knew what it was about.
It was Brad, our neighbor two houses down the street. Our next-door neighbors, who include about 12 people in a two-bedroom house, have clashed with Brad ever since they moved in last winter. Especially the teenage boys and their friends, who start their games of two-on-two basketball no earlier than 11 p.m. on the weekdays. There are many nights when Brad can be seen outdoors in his bath robe, yelling at the kids to "shut the fuck up. Some people have to get up at 4 a.m."
Sometimes, he'll call over my brother for backup. There's something about him that scares those kids. Whether it's his motorcycle or hot temper, I can't be sure. But it works, and the boys usually retreat inside shortly after Jesse's had a word with them.
Last night's fight, however, must have been a doozy. Brad was a crazed man this morning, doing everything in his power to wake up the teens who've regularly disturbed his sleeping pattern. So there he was, at 7:30 a.m., sitting inside his massive RV (think "Meet the Fockers") laying on his horn for minutes at a time. Then, just after 8 a.m., so as not to violate the St. Clair Shores noise ordinance, he pulled out his weed wacker, revving its engine as loudly as possible.
I left for work before the matter was resolved. But my parents say it ended with a boom box, the police and a series of tickets.