“Can I help you?”
I matched her tone, sugar for sugar. “Oh, Annabelle! I just wanted to thank you for your little… housewarming gift earlier.”
Her smug grin said it all. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Really?” I pressed. “So you didn’t dump a truckload of garbage into my house this morning?”
She shrugged, not even trying to hide it. “Well, someone had to teach you newbies how things work around here. All that loose trash by the road? Obviously yours. We never had that problem before you showed up.”
“Listen here, you entitled little witch,” I snarled, stepping closer. “If you had half a brain in that perfectly coiffed head of yours, you might’ve, oh I don’t know, talked to me first? Instead of endangering my kids and pets with your little stunt?”
Annabelle’s eyes widened. “Wait a minute—”
But I was on a roll. “No, you wait. You like cleaning so much, right? Here’s a little project for you!”
With all the grace of a major league pitcher, I hurled those bags of pet poop into her pristine hallway. One smacked against her fancy staircase, the other exploded against her living room doorframe. And some splattered on her velvet couch. Ouch! In seconds, her showcase home looked like a barnyard after a hurricane.
“There you go, Miss Clean!” I shouted over her horrified shriek. “Knock yourself out!”
As Annabelle stood there, mouth gaping like a fish out of water, I delivered my closing speech. “Let me make this crystal clear. If you ever, and I mean EVER, pull a stunt like that again, I will personally redecorate your precious car with manure. I will make sure every window in this Barbie Dream House of yours gets a new coat of dog poop paint. Do I make myself clear?”
Miss Evil looked like she might faint.
As I turned on my heel and marched back home, I heard a smattering of applause from my slack-jawed neighbors. Mrs. Johnson rushed up to me, her eyes shining.
“Kristie, that was… that was…”
“Legendary?” I supplied with a wink.
She laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. “I’ve never seen anyone stand up to her like that. You’re officially ‘The Godfather’ of this neighborhood!”
Me: 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭
In the weeks that followed, life in our little neighborhood took on a whole new vibe. Annabelle? She kept to herself, scurrying inside whenever she saw me coming. But everyone else? They couldn’t get enough of the new girl who’d taken down the neighborhood tyrant.
“Hey, Kristie!” Mr. Peterson called out one sunny afternoon as I was watering my flowers. “We’re having a barbecue this weekend. You and the kids want to join us?”
I grinned, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the summer heat. “We’d love to! Want me to bring anything?”
He chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Just yourself. And maybe leave the, uh, ‘special fertilizer’ at home this time, yeah?”
We shared a good
laugh over that one. It had become something of a running joke in the neighborhood. Whenever someone acted a bit too high and mighty, someone would inevitably quip, “Careful, or Kristie might redecorate your house with pet poop!”
As I looked around at the friendly faces, the kids playing together on the sidewalk, even the cats lounging contentedly in the sun, I felt a sense of belonging I hadn’t expected to find so soon.
“You know what, Pete?” I said, scooping up my giggling toddler. “I think we’re gonna like it here after all.”
He planted a sloppy kiss on my cheek. “Love you, Mommy. You’re the best!”
With my son in my arms and my new friends all around, I knew I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. Because sometimes, it takes a little bit of crazy to bring out the best in a community.
So, friends, got any wild tales about entitled neighbors? How’d you handle ’em? Spill the tea in the comments… who knows, you might just inspire the next neighborhood revolution!
