When I politely asked my neighbor to stop sunbathing in bikinis in front of my teenage son’s window, she retaliated by planting a filthy toilet on my lawn with a sign: “FLUSH YOUR OPINION HERE!” I was livid, but karma delivered the perfect revenge.
I should’ve known trouble was brewing when Shannon moved in next door and immediately painted her house purple, then orange, and then blue. But I’m a firm believer in living and letting live. That was right up until she started hosting bikini sunbathing spectacles right outside my 15-year-old son’s window.
A woman lying on a lounger | Source: Pexels
“Mom!” my son Jake burst into the kitchen one morning, his face redder than the tomatoes I was slicing for lunch. “Can you… um… do something about that? Outside my window?”
I marched to his room and peered out the window. There was Shannon, sprawled out on a leopard-print lounger, wearing the tiniest bikinis that could generously be called dental floss with sequins.
“Just keep your blinds closed, honey,” I said, trying to sound casual while my mind raced.
A woman opening curtains | Source: Pexels
“But I can’t even open them to get fresh air anymore!” Jake slumped against the bed.
“This is so weird. Tommy came over to study yesterday, and he walked into my room and just froze. Like, mouth open, eyes bulging, full system shutdown. His mom probably won’t let him come back!”
I sighed, closing the blinds. “Has she been out there like that every day?”
“Every. Single. Day. Mom, I’m dying. I can’t live like this. I’m going to have to become a mole person and live in the basement. Do we have Wi-Fi down there?”
A teenage boy frowning | Source: Midjourney
After a week of watching my teenage son practically parkour around his room to avoid glimpsing our exhibitionist neighbor, I decided to have a friendly chat with Shannon.
I usually mind my own business when it comes to what people do in their yards, but Shannon’s idea of ‘sunbathing’ was more like a public performance.
She’d lounge around in the skimpiest of bikinis, sometimes even going topless, and there was no way to miss her every time we stood near Jake’s window.
A woman sunbathing | Source: Pexels
“Hey, Shannon,” I called out, aiming for that sweet spot between ‘friendly neighbor’ and ‘concerned parent’ tone of voice. “Got a minute?”
She lowered her oversized sunglasses, the ones that made her look like a bedazzled praying mantis. “Renee! Come to borrow some tanning oil? I just got this amazing coconut one. Makes you smell like a tropical vacation and poor life choices.”
“Actually, I wanted to talk about your sunbathing spot. See, it’s right in front of my son Jake’s window, and he’s 15, and—”
“Oh. My. God.” Shannon sat up, her face splitting into an unnervingly wide grin. “Are you seriously trying to police where I can get my vitamin D? In my own yard?”
A furious woman | Source: Midjourney
“That’s not what I—”
“Listen, sweetie,” she cut me off, examining her hot pink nails like they held the secrets to the universe. “If your kid can’t handle seeing a confident woman living her best life, maybe you should invest in better blinds. Or therapy. Or both. I know this amazing life coach who could help him overcome his repression. She specializes in aura cleansing and interpretive dance.”
“Shannon, please. I’m just asking if you could maybe move your chair literally anywhere else in your yard. You have two acres!”
A startled woman covering her mouth | Source: Pexels
“Hmm.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully, then reached for her phone. “Let me check my schedule. Oh, look at that! I’m booked solid with not caring about your opinion until… forever.”
I retreated, wondering if I’d somehow stumbled into an episode of “Neighbors Gone Wild.” But Shannon wasn’t done with me yet. Not by a long shot.
Two days later, I opened my front door to grab the newspaper and stopped dead in my tracks.
There, proudly displayed in the middle of my perfectly manicured lawn, was a toilet bowl. Not just any toilet. It was an old, filthy, tetanus-inducing throne, complete with a handwritten sign that read: “FLUSH YOUR OPINION HERE!”
I knew it was Shannon’s handiwork.
A toilet with a sign installed on the lawn | Source: Midjourney
“What do you think of my art installation?” her voice floated over from her yard. She was perched on her lounger, looking like a very smug, very underdressed cat.
“I call it ‘Modern Suburban Discourse.’ The local art gallery already wants to feature it in their ‘Found Objects’ exhibition!” she laughed.
“Are you kidding me?” I gestured at the porcelain monstrosity. “This is vandalism!”
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
“No, honey, this is self-expression. Like my sunbathing. But since you’re so interested in giving opinions about what people do on their property, I thought I’d give you a proper place to put them.”
I stood there on my lawn, staring at Shannon cackling like a hyena, and something inside me just clicked.
You know that moment when you realize you’re playing chess with a pigeon? The bird’s just going to knock over all the pieces, strut around like it won, and leave droppings everywhere. That was Shannon.
I crossed my arms and sighed. Sometimes the best revenge is just sitting back and watching karma do its thing.
A woman laughing | Source: Midjourney
The weeks that followed tested my patience. Shannon turned her yard into what I can only describe as a one-woman Woodstock. The sunbathing continued, now with an added commentary track.
she invited friends, and her parties rattled windows three houses down, complete with karaoke renditions of “I Will Survive” at 3 a.m. She even started a “meditation drum circle” that sounded more like a herd of caffeinated elephants learning to Riverdance.
Through it all, I smiled and waved. Because here’s the thing about people like Shannon — they’re so busy writing their own drama that they never see the plot twist coming.
And oh boy, what a twist it was.
People at a party | Source: Unsplash
It was a pleasant Saturday. I was baking cookies when I heard sirens. I stepped onto my porch just in time to see a fire truck screech to a halt in front of my house.
“Ma’am,” a firefighter approached me, looking confused. “We received a report about a sewage leak?”
Before I could respond, Shannon appeared, wearing a concerned citizen face that deserved an Oscar. “Yes, officer! That toilet over there… it’s a health hazard! I’ve seen things… terrible things… leaking! The children, won’t someone think of the children?”
A firefighter holding a fire extinguisher | Source: Pexels
The firefighter looked at the bone-dry decorative toilet, then at Shannon, then back at the toilet. His expression suggested he was questioning every life choice that led him to this moment.
“Ma’am, making false emergency reports is a crime. This is clearly a lawn ornament,” he paused, probably wondering why he had to say a phrase like that as part of his job.
“A dry lawn ornament. And I’m a firefighter, not a health inspector.”
A firefighter staring at someone | Source: Pexels
Shannon’s face fell faster than her sunscreen coverage rating. “But the aesthetic pollution! The visual contamination!”
“Ma’am, we don’t respond to aesthetic emergencies, and pranks are definitely not something we respond to.”
With that, the firefighters left the property, but karma wasn’t finished with Shannon. Not by a long shot.
An angry woman gritting her teeth | Source: Midjourney
The fire truck drama barely slowed her down. If anything, it inspired her to reach new heights. Literally.
One scorching afternoon, I spotted Shannon hauling her leopard-print lounger up a ladder to her garage roof. And there she was, perched up high like some sort of sunbathing gargoyle, armed with a reflective tanning sheet and what looked like an industrial-sized margarita.
I was in my kitchen, elbow-deep in dinner dishes, and wondering if this was the universe’s way of testing my blood pressure when the sound of chaos erupted outside.
Close-up of a woman sunbathing | Source: Pexels
I heard a splash and a screech that sounded like a cat in a washing machine. I rushed outside to find Shannon face-down in her prized petunias, covered from head to toe in mud.
Turned out that her new rooftop sunbathing spot had met its match — her malfunctioning sprinkler system.
Our neighbor, Mrs. Peterson, dropped her gardening shears. “Good Lord! Shannon, are you trying to recreate Baywatch? Because I think you missed the beach part. And the running part. And the… well… every part.”
Shannon scrambled up, caked in mud. Her designer bikini was now accessorized with grass stains and what appeared to be a very surprised earthworm.
A shocked woman with mud on her face | Source: Midjourney
Following the incident, Shannon was as quiet as a church mouse. She stopped sunbathing in front of Jake’s window, and the dirty toilet bowl on my lawn disappeared faster than a magician’s rabbit.
Shannon invested in a privacy fence around her backyard, and our long suburban nightmare was over.
“Mom,” Jake said at breakfast the next morning, cautiously raising his blinds, “is it safe to come out of witness protection now?”
I smiled, sliding him a plate of pancakes. “Yeah, honey. I think the show’s been canceled. Permanently.”
A teenage boy smiling | Source: Midjourney
“Thank god,” he muttered, then grinned. “Though I kind of miss the toilet. It was weirdly starting to grow on me. Like a really ugly lawn gnome.”
“Don’t even joke about that. Eat your pancakes before she decides to install a whole bathroom set!” I said, sharing a hearty laugh with my son as we looked at the wall around Shannon’s yard.
Window view of an empty yard | Source: Pexels
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
Woman Stumbles Upon Blueprint of Her Cottage, Then Sees Its Center Marked in Red
Anna returned home from the cafe, packed her belongings, and drove to her grandfather’s house in the countryside. It was a small blue cottage with a wooden door, very different from Anna’s in Cleveland, but here she could find peace and a well-deserved break from housework and, especially, Edward’s lies.
The woman creaked open the gate upon arrival, but as she took a step forward towards the front door, she noticed a man lying unconscious in the yard with a shovel beside him. Blood had covered every square inch of the shovel as if someone had hit him on the head with it.
Anna called 911 right away and rushed the man to the hospital. Fortunately, they made it in time, and the man was out of danger. But when she got home from the hospital, she had another surprise in store for her. Her dear husband Edward was waiting for her at the cottage.
“I have been searching for you the whole day, Anna! You just disappeared without a trace. Where have you been?” Edward inquired.
“Because you were so preoccupied with your work and ‘client meetings,’ I decided to take a vacation with my baby,” Anna said indifferently. “It’s not as if I have to ask you for your permission for everything. Anyway, what are you doing here?”
Edward’s tone abruptly shifted. “Are you upset about something, honey? Do you want me to get you something?”
“No, Edward,” Anna retorted. “Right now, all I need is sleep. So, please move. And, yes, I’ll be sleeping alone, so you can sleep outside on the couch!”
Anna went to bed, but her thoughts kept returning to the man she’d discovered unconscious in her yard. What exactly was he doing here? Was she on the lookout for something? Is he familiar with me? And how did he get a head injury? Her head was racing with questions.
Anna fell asleep while trying to find answers for her inquisitive mind and was awakened by the sun the following day. It was mildly cold, so she reached out for the blanket, but she couldn’t find it.
She awoke, irritated, and was about to yell at Edward if he’d pulled it to his side when she realized she’d been sleeping alone.
However, as Anna looked around the room, she noticed it was in a terrible state. The blanket had been thrown on the floor, her room’s cupboard had open drawers, and her luggage had been opened and rummaged through.
If this is you, Edward, I swear you’re dead today! Anna was furious as she dashed into the living room. But that space was in no better shape. It was even messier than she’d found it when she first entered the house, and Edward was nowhere to be found.
She was about to go outside and check the yard for him, but just then, her gaze was drawn to a crumpled sheet of paper on the ground. When she picked it up, she discovered it was a blueprint for her cottage with a red circle at its center.
She dashed to the loft as it came under the circled region and discovered that, too, was messed up. Edward had vanished as if he didn’t exist, and the yard had been dug out in one corner.
Worried, she was about to call him, but just then she heard a voice from behind. “I’m sorry, but I hope I didn’t disturb you!” it said.
Anna turned around and discovered the man she’d saved the previous day standing at the doorstep. “Oh, it’s you! Are you all right now?” she worriedly inquired.
The man sighed as he looked around Anna’s house, which was in a state of disarray. “I was taken to the hospital on time thanks to your assistance,” he said. “By the way, my name is Andrew. Can I come inside, if you don’t mind? I’d like to speak with you about something…”
Anna offered tea to Andrew, and that’s when he started telling her the whole story. Andrew turned out to have cared for Anna’s grandfather in his final days. So, before his death, her grandfather told the kind man about the treasure hidden in the yard near his house.
“He also gave me a letter,” Andrew explained, “and it was addressed to you to an address in Florida. I went there, but you’d already left, so I waited until you came back so I could give it to you. I wasn’t there on his funeral day; otherwise, we could have met that day.”
Anna opened the letter and began reading it.
“Dear Anna, I hope you’re doing well,” the letter began, “I know it might come as a shock to you, but I have a box hidden in my yard, and there’s a map to it.”
“My grandfather gave it to me before he died, and I wanted to give it to you on your wedding day, but I’m sorry to say that your husband already has his eye on it. Edward is not who he appears to be. He came to see me after you two got married and overheard me talking to Andrew.”
“By the way, Andrew is the man who will most likely deliver this letter to you. The brooch you’ll find inside the box is worth millions of dollars, and it is a relic of our ancestors that has been passed down to us. Edward will not find it as long as he does not obtain the map. I hope you find it and keep it in a safe place. Love, Grandpa Silas.”
As Anna finished the letter, she showed a picture of Edward to Andrew. “Have you seen him around, or do you know him?”
“Oh, yes, he’s the man who comes here often. When I came here that day to clean the yard, I found him here, and he hit me over the head with a shovel.”
When Andrew said that, it all made sense: Edward’s sudden appearance at the cottage and his sudden disappearance. Anna immediately called the police and informed them of the situation. In no time, Edward was apprehended, and he confessed to the theft, and Anna was able to recover the brooch.
After the incident, Anna decided to cut all ties with Edward, who’s serving time in prison, and she and Andrew are now raising her son, Brandon, together.
What can we learn from this story?
You can’t escape karma. Edward decided to flee with the ancient brooch, but he was apprehended and punished for his actions.
Everything in life happens for a reason. If Anna hadn’t caught Edward cheating on her that day, she would never have found out the truth about Edward.
If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a young mother who found an old crib on her doorstep with an envelope inside.
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