Hot Josh vs. the HOA

It all started with a letter. Not a bill, not a fan note—just a plain white envelope from the Homeowners Association. I open it and read:

Dear Resident, your mailbox does not conform to neighborhood standards. Please repaint it beige within seven days to avoid fines.

Beige.
The color of defeat. The color of boredom. The color of “I give up.”

I look at my black mailbox with its bold chrome lettering—JOSHUA JOHNSON, gleaming like a declaration of independence—and I say out loud, “Not today, tyranny.”

The next morning, I show up to the HOA office in a suit sharp enough to file its own restraining order. The board is mid-meeting. I walk in without knocking.

“Let’s talk about standards,” I begin. “Because it seems the only thing beige around here is your imagination.”

A board member stammers, “Sir, this isn’t on the agenda.”

“It is now,” I reply. “If you can demand uniform mailboxes, I can demand emotional support for my aesthetic expression.”

They try to remind me of the rules. I remind them that rules without reason are just beige in written form. I pull out a presentation I made overnight—PowerPoint slides titled Freedom of Hue: A Citizen’s Right to Shine.

By slide six, they’re exhausted. By slide ten, they’re questioning their life choices. By slide twelve, they agree to “review the policy.”

That evening, I repaint my mailbox metallic blue and post a photo online captioned:

‘HOA: 0, Hot Josh: 1. Liberty rings at the mailbox.’

Now half the neighborhood’s mailboxes are purple, red, or glittery silver. The HOA’s latest memo calls it “a community-wide act of rebellion.”

I call it “Tuesday.”

Because when Hot Josh gets a letter, the only thing getting repainted is history.