The Johnsons thought they’d won when the old oak was cut down. But the stump had other plans.

Every morning, it seemed to creep a little farther out of the ground, roots poking up like elbows. The kids swore it was moving closer to the swing set. The dog refused to fetch near it, growling like the stump was plotting something.

Neighbors started calling it “The Yard Invader.” It hogged space, tripped guests, and even bent the lawnmower blade with a smug CLUNK! —as if to say, “This is my turf now.”

One evening, Mr. Johnson looked out the window and swore the stump was staring back at him. That was the last straw. He called a removal crew the next day, declaring: “This isn’t just a stump—it’s an invader. And it’s time for eviction.”

Stump grinding (216) 767-6323