I marched outside, the offending baseball clutched in my hand like a grenade. Baron Bigshot was in his driveway, polishing his luxury car with the care most people reserve for newborns.
“Hey!” I shouted, storming up to him. “Your son’s baseball just came through my window. It nearly hit my daughter!”
He barely glanced up. “Oh? And you’re sure it was my son’s ball?”
I thrust the blueberry pie-lathered ball in his face. “Unless baseballs are falling from the sky now, yes, I’m pretty sure.”
He sighed like I was some peasant interrupting his important car-polishing duties. “Look, Ms…”
“Angela. We’ve been neighbors for three years.”
He waved his hand dismissively. “Right, right. Angela. Do you have any proof it was my Billy’s ball?”
I stared at him, dumbfounded. “Proof? There’s pie filling on it!”
“Ah,” he nodded sagely, “so you admit you tampered with the evidence.”
I felt my eye start to twitch. “Listen here, Baron Big—”
“I beg your pardon?”
I took a deep breath. “Mr. Worthington. Your son broke my window. He could have seriously hurt my daughter. The least you could do is pay for the repairs.”
He chuckled, actually chuckled! “My dear, do you know how much that would cost?”
“Probably less than one of your car’s tires,” I muttered.
His eyes narrowed. “I don’t appreciate your tone. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a birthday party to prepare for. Important guests are coming, you understand. Out of my property!”
He said that. Yep! No apology. No NOTHIN’.
As he turned away, something in me snapped. “Oh, I understand perfectly. I understand that you care more about your fancy party than the safety of your neighbors!”
He spun around, his face red. “Now see here—”
But I was on a roll. “No, you see here! Your son has been terrorizing this neighborhood for months. We’ve all been too polite to say anything, but enough is enough. You need to take responsibility!”
“I suggest you leave now before I call the police for trespassing.”
Defeated and furious, I trudged back home, the sound of his expensive sprinkler system mocking me with every step.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of cleaning up glass and comforting a still-shaken Penny.
As evening fell, the sounds of Baron Bigshot’s party drifted over. Laughter, clinking glasses, and what I was pretty sure was a live band.
I was just about to close the curtains (what was left of them anyway) when I saw something odd. A group of young men in masks, all wearing football jerseys, was marching up Baron Bigshot’s perfectly manicured lawn.
“What in the world?” I murmured, pressing my nose against the wooden window sill divider.
Suddenly, they all raised their arms, each holding a football. And then, in perfect synchronization, they let loose.
Footballs rained down on Baron Bigshot’s party like a sports equipment hailstorm. I watched, mouth agape, as chaos erupted.
Guests screamed and ducked, champagne flutes shattered, and Baron Bigshot himself stood in the middle of it all, looking like a man who’d just seen his worst nightmare come to life.
As quickly as it started, it was over. The football players high-fived each other and jogged away, leaving destruction in their wake.
I was still trying to process what I’d seen when there was a knock at my door. It was Mrs. Stewart, grinning like the cat that got the cream.
“Did you see that?” she asked, barely containing her glee.
I nodded, still stunned. “What… how…”
She winked. “Let’s just say my nephew’s football team owed me a favor. Thought our dear neighbor could use a taste of his own medicine.”
I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing, tears streaming down my face. “Mrs. Stewart, you’re a genius!”
She patted my arm. “Sometimes, dear, karma needs a little push.”
The next morning, I was enjoying my coffee when there was a furious pounding at my door. I opened it to find Baron Bigshot, looking decidedly less baronial in his rumpled pajamas.
“YOU!” he sputtered, pointing an accusing finger at me. “You did this!”
I took a sip of my coffee, savoring the moment. “Did what?”
“Don’t play dumb! The football attack! It ruined everything!”
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And do you have any proof it was me?”
He opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, clearly recognizing his own words being thrown back at him.
I leaned against the doorframe, feeling surprisingly calm. “You know, Mr. Worthington, sometimes life has a funny way of teaching us lessons. Maybe this is yours.”
His face turned an impressive shade of purple. “This isn’t over!”
As he stormed off, I called after him, “Oh, and Mr. Worthington? You might want to consider investing in some wooden planks for your windows. I hear they’re all the rage these days.”
I closed the door, grinning to myself. Penny looked up from her coloring book, curiosity shining in her eyes.
“Mommy, why was that man yelling?”
I scooped her up, planting a kiss on her forehead. “Oh, sweetie. He just learned a very important lesson about being a good neighbor.”
Well, folks, there you have it. Karma works in mysterious ways, doesn’t it? Sometimes it’s swift, sometimes it takes its sweet time, and sometimes it needs a little nudge from a well-meaning neighbor with connections to a high school football team!
So, tell me, have you ever had a neighbor from hell? A Baron Bigshot of your own? Drop your stories in the comments. After all, misery loves company, and nothing brings people together quite like tales of nightmare neighbors!
33 Thomas Street: The Mysterious 29-Story Windowless Skyscraper in New York. What’s it use for?
In the heart of Lower Manhattan, an unusual 29-story skyscraper, devoid of windows, stands tall and mysterious. Its code name is Titanpointe, and it is located at 33 Thomas Street. This building has baffled New Yorkers for years.
The building, constructed in 1974, was designed to withstand atomic blasts and was initially intended to house vital telecommunications equipment. It was envisioned as a communication nerve center, fortified against nuclear threats, by the architectural firm John Carl Warnecke & Associates.
This imposing structure, a gray tower of concrete and granite soaring 550 feet into the New York skyline, remains, unlike any other building in its vicinity. Unlike neighboring residential and office buildings, it does not have a single window and remains unilluminated. At night, it takes on an eerie presence, and by day it casts a giant shadow, its square vents emitting a faint hum, often drowned out by the city’s bustling sounds.
For decades, 33 Thomas Street, also nicknamed the “Long Lines Building,” has captured the imagination of New Yorkers as one of the city’s weirdest and most iconic skyscrapers. But the true purpose of this enigmatic structure has remained largely concealed, shrouded in secrecy.
The Secret Behind 33 Thomas Street
Beyond its enigmatic exterior, 33 Thomas Street conceals a deeper secret. This building appears to be more than just a telecommunications hub. Evidence from documents obtained by NSA whistleblower Edward Snowden, along with architectural plans and interviews with former AT&T employees, suggests that 33 Thomas Street served as an NSA surveillance site, code-named Titanpointe.
The NSA’s involvement goes beyond mere speculation. Inside the building, there’s a major international gateway switch that routes phone calls between the U.S. and countries worldwide. The NSA is believed to have tapped into these calls from a secure facility within the AT&T building. This covert surveillance program has targeted not only international organizations like the United Nations, the International Monetary Fund, and the World Bank but also numerous countries, including U.S. allies.
While AT&T has cooperated with the NSA on surveillance, few details have emerged about the specific role of facilities like 33 Thomas Street in carrying out top-secret programs. The Snowden documents, however, provide unprecedented insight into how NSA equipment has been integrated into AT&T’s network in New York City. This integration reveals the methods and technology employed by the agency to gather communications data from the company’s systems.
The NSA’s presence within this iconic skyscraper raises questions about the boundaries of surveillance in the modern world. As Elizabeth Goitein, co-director of the liberty and national security program at the Brennan Center for Justice, points out, “This is yet more proof that our communications service providers have become, whether willingly or unwillingly, an arm of the surveillance state.” The deep integration of the NSA within domestic communications infrastructure challenges the notion that such surveillance can be neatly confined to non-American targets.
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