Returning from a relaxing vacation, 50-year-old Wendy came home to find her beloved lawn buried under a mountain of gravel by her thoughtless neighbor, Tom. When he refused to fix the damage, Wendy orchestrated a brilliant revenge plan that became the talk of the neighborhood.
Alright folks, gather around ’cause you won’t believe what just happened to your favorite 50-year-old lawn lady! I spent the last two weeks in Hawaii, soaking up the sun. I flew back, all excited to get back to my beloved sanctuary, only to be greeted by… a mountain of gravel dumped right in the middle of my precious lawn!
My jaw about hit the floor. It looked like a scene out of a bad construction zone!
My first thought? That darn Tom, my young neighbor with about as much courtesy as a jackrabbit.
See, this guy, he’s got this holier-than-thou attitude and thinks the whole neighborhood revolves around him.
Fuming, I stormed over to his house.
There he was, sprawled on his couch like a king on his throne, a half-eaten bag of chips resting precariously on his belly.
“Tom,” I yelled, “what in the world is this mess doing on my lawn?”
He glanced up, eyes widening for a millisecond before settling back on nonchalance. “Oh, hey Wendy. Back from your little vacation, huh? Fancy seeing you.”
He gestured vaguely towards the window with a chip-dusted finger. “Needed some space for my reno project, you see. Didn’t have anywhere else to put it.”
Reno project? This troublemaker was calling this monstrosity a reno project? My prize-winning lawn, the envy of the entire neighborhood, reduced to a gravel pit?
“Didn’t have anywhere else to put it?” I retorted. “So you decided to just dump it on my property?”
Tom shrugged, that infuriating nonchalance still plastered across his face. “Look, it’s just some gravel, Wendy. No biggie.”
This was a blatant disrespect for my property and my hard work!
“This isn’t some minor inconvenience,” I shrieked. “You’ve destroyed my lawn! Do you have any idea how much time and effort I’ve put into that grass?”
He finally set the chip bag down, a hint of annoyance flickering in his eyes. “Alright, alright, jeez. Calm down, would ya? It’s not like I did it on purpose.”
“Not on purpose?” I scoffed. “So you just accidentally dumped a mountain of gravel on my lawn while you were sleepwalking?”
Tom opened his mouth to retort, but I cut him off. “Look,” I said, staring him down, “this isn’t over. You’re going to fix this mess, and you’re going to pay for the damage.”
A smug smile played on his lips. “Pay? No way! Good neighbors don’t act like you, Wendy,” he said, leaning back on the couch.
My blood pressure rocketed.
Talking to him felt like arguing with a brick wall. With that, I spun on my heel and marched back to my house. But you bet your sweet bippy, I wasn’t going to let this arrogant young buck walk all over me.
The next few days were a test of pure grit. Armed with a trusty wheelbarrow and a simmering pot of anger, I declared war on that gravel mountain.
It was backbreaking work, sweat stinging my eyes as I hauled load after load back onto Tom’s driveway.
Of course, the ever-observant Tom couldn’t resist making an appearance. Halfway through a particularly hefty load, I heard a bellow from across the hedge.
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