I was utterly drained—the kind of exhaustion that makes you question whether you’ve even brushed your teeth or fed the dog. Ever since the twins arrived, my life had devolved into an unending blur of diaper changes, feeding times, and sleepless nights. The last thing I needed was another headache. But when I stepped outside that morning, I was greeted by a shocking sight: my car was completely plastered with eggs.
At first, I figured it was just a random prank. I mean, Halloween was around the corner—kids often get carried away with their mischief. I let out a sigh, too tired to muster any real anger, and grabbed a sponge and bucket to clean up the gooey mess. Don’t get me wrong; Lily and Lucas were my sweet little joys, but managing two newborns mostly on my own was no small feat. I hadn’t enjoyed a full night’s sleep in months, and as the neighborhood buzzed with Halloween excitement, I felt utterly disconnected from the festivities.
I just didn’t have the energy to decorate, let alone get into the holiday spirit.
Then there was Brad.
Brad took Halloween to a whole new level. Every year, he transformed his house into an elaborate haunted attraction, complete with gravestones, skeletons, and oversized jack-o’-lanterns. He thrived on the attention and beamed with pride whenever someone complimented his creations.
While the whole block adored his enthusiasm, I was too drained to care about Brad’s spooky showcase.
One October morning, things spiraled out of control. I stepped outside, balancing Lily on one hip and cradling Lucas in the other arm, when I noticed it: my car was a canvas of egg goo! The eggshells clung to the mess, dripping down the windshield like a grotesque breakfast gone wrong.
“Are you kidding me?” I muttered, surveying the damage.
The night before, I’d parked in front of Brad’s house out of necessity—after all, it was easier to get the twins in and out of the stroller when parked close to the door. Initially, I thought it was just a prank. But as I noticed egg splatters near Brad’s porch, the truth hit me like a ton of bricks.
Brad had done this.
Though he didn’t own the street, he certainly acted like he controlled the curb during Halloween.
Fuming, I marched over to his house and knocked on the door, maybe a bit harder than necessary, but my patience had run dry.
“What?” Brad opened the door with his usual smug grin, arms crossed.
His house was already decked out in decorations—cobwebs, plastic skeletons, and a witch perched on a chair. It was overwhelming.
Without hesitation, I blurted, “Did you see who egged my car?”
Without missing a beat, he replied, “I did it. Your car was blocking the view of my decorations.”
I stared at him, incredulous. “You egged my car because it was parked in front of your house? You didn’t even ask me to move it—you just vandalized it?”
He shrugged as if it were no big deal. “How can people see my display with your car in the way?”
I couldn’t believe my ears. “Seriously?”
He nodded, still looking smug. “I’m the Halloween King. People come from all over to see my decorations. You’re always parked there. It’s inconsiderate and ruins the vibe.”
Here I was, juggling two newborns and barely keeping it together, and he was worried about “the vibe”?
“Well, sorry if my life interferes with your spooky setup,” I snapped. “I have newborn twins, Brad.”
“I know,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. “Maybe park somewhere else.”
“I park there because it’s easier with the babies and the stroller!”
Brad shrugged again. “Not my problem. You can park there after Halloween.”
I stood there, speechless, my anger bubbling inside me. But in my fatigue, I couldn’t find the energy to argue any further.
“Fine,” I snapped, turning on my heel and storming back inside, shaking with disbelief and frustration.
As I washed the egg off my car, a thought struck me: Brad wasn’t just an annoying neighbor—he was a bully. And I’d had enough. If he wanted to play dirty, I could outsmart him.
That night, as I rocked Lily to sleep, inspiration struck. Brad’s Achilles’ heel was his pride; he needed his Halloween display to reign supreme. I didn’t have the energy for a full-on confrontation, but revenge? I could manage that.
The next day, I casually strolled over to Brad’s yard while he was in the middle of adding more decorations.
“Hey, Brad,” I said, feigning enthusiasm. “I’ve been thinking. It was inconsiderate of me to block your display. Have you considered upgrading it?”
He looked skeptical. “Upgrade?”
“Yeah! Fog machines or ghost projectors would really elevate your setup. Your decorations are great, but those would wow the crowd even more.”
His eyes sparkled with interest. I knew I had him.
I recommended brands I’d researched—devices with terrible reviews that he’d have no way of knowing about.
“You think so?” he asked, already dreaming up his next move.
“Oh, absolutely! You’d be the talk of the neighborhood.”
Satisfied with my work, I walked away, eagerly awaiting Halloween night.
When Halloween finally arrived, Brad’s house looked like a scene straight out of a horror movie. He’d really gone all out, as I’d expected.
Crowds gathered to admire his impressive setup, and there was Brad, relishing the attention.
I watched from my porch, feeling a bit like a villain in a story. His display was impressive—until it wasn’t.
Right on cue, the fog machine sputtered and began spraying water like a garden hose. Gasps rippled through the crowd, quickly followed by laughter from the kids.
Brad dashed to fix it, but then the ghost projector malfunctioned. Instead of a spooky apparition, it cast a bizarre blob that sent the children into fits of giggles.
To top it off, one of his massive inflatables collapsed, rolling across the yard. Teenagers, sensing the chaos, started hurling eggs at his house just for fun.
Brad was frantic, darting around to salvage his haunted house, but it was too late. His grand Halloween display had turned into a comedic disaster.
The next morning, as I fed Lucas, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to find Brad standing there, looking defeated.
“I, uh, wanted to apologize,” he mumbled. “I overreacted.”
I crossed my arms, waiting for him to continue. “Yeah, you did.”
He shifted awkwardly. “I didn’t realize how hard it must be with the twins. I’m sorry.”
I let him squirm for a moment longer. “Thanks for the apology, Brad. I hope it won’t happen again.”
He nodded quickly. “It won’t.”
As he turned to leave, I couldn’t resist adding, “Funny how things work out, huh?”
Brad had no reply.