When my entitled neighbor dumped trash into my house to feed her attention cravings, I channeled ‘The Godfather’ for my EPIC payback. Now she won’t even look me in the eye.
Ever had a neighbor who thought the world revolved around them? You know, the kind who’s always itching for attention and won’t rest until they’ve turned your life into a living nightmare? Welcome to my little slice of suburban hell, brought to you by the one and only Annabelle, or as I like to call her, Miss Evil!
This lady had the audacity to waltz onto my property while I was out and turn my house into her personal dumpster. But if she thought I was gonna sit back and take it, she had another thing coming!
Let me paint you a picture. I’m Kristie, 33, married to my amazing husband Adam. He’s off serving in the Marines, protecting our country like the hero he is.
We’ve got two adorable little rugrats, Bobby and Pete, aged one and three. Oh, and let’s not forget our furry trio—Toby, Ginger, and Snowball, the feline overlords of our household.
We’d just moved to this quiet little neighborhood because it looked like the kind of place where one could actually hear birds chirping instead of car alarms blaring.
I thought it’d be perfect for the kids to run around and make friends, and for the cats to finally live their best outdoor lives.
Everything was going smoothly until our first garbage day rolled around. I’d bagged up everything nice and neat, from potato peels to poopy diapers, and plopped it all in our shiny new garbage container.
The next morning, I dragged that bad boy to the curb at the crack of dawn, feeling like a responsible adult and all.
“Alright, kiddos,” I said, clapping my hands together as I came back inside. “Who’s ready for a little shopping adventure?”
“Me! Me!” Pete squealed, while Bobby just gurgled happily in his high chair.
After a morning of retail therapy and toddler wrangling, we pulled back into our driveway. That’s when I saw it: my pristine patio, now looking like a landfill had exploded on it.
“What in the name of all that’s holy…” I muttered, my jaw practically hitting the floor.
I fumbled with my keys, my hands shaking as I approached the front door. The moment I swung it open, the stench hit me like a freight train.
“Oh. My. God.”
Our hallway, my beautiful, white marble hallway that I scrubbed daily, was buried under a mountain of garbage. Soiled diapers, rotting food, you name it. All of it had been shoved through the letterbox and cat flap like some bonkers version of Santa Claus had visited.
“Mommy, it stinky!” Pete announced, holding his nose dramatically.
“You can say that again, kiddo,” I replied, trying not to gag.
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