When my neighbors dumped their rotting Halloween leftovers on my lawn, they thought they’d make me clean up their mess. But after years of their petty antics, I decided it was time for a little payback that would expose a whole lot more than they’d bargained for.
I’ve always loved Halloween. Every year, I go all out decorating the yard with cobwebs, ghosts hanging from trees, big plastic spiders crawling up the porch, and gravestones in the flowerbeds. It’s spooky, and the neighborhood kids love it.
This year, I went bigger than ever. I constructed a haunted maze in the front yard and installed a giant inflatable witch that glowed at night. I got a lot of compliments, even from people just walking by. But, of course, not everyone was a fan.
Gary and Brenda, my neighbors two doors down, have never liked anything I’ve done, Halloween or otherwise. “Entitled” doesn’t begin to cover them. They think everyone in the neighborhood is there to make their lives easier.
Last year, they complained about my Christmas lights being “too bright.” The year before, Brenda demanded I move my garden because it “blocked her view.” And don’t get me started on their complaints about my dog barking.
So, Halloween came and went, and I planned to clean up everything, but work got crazy, and the decorations stayed up a bit longer than usual.
One morning, I opened the door to grab my paper, and the smell hit me. It was foul, like something had died right there on my lawn. I glanced around, and my stomach turned.
There, right in the middle of my yard, was a heap of rotting pumpkins, dead cornstalks, and broken skeleton pieces. Flies buzzed around, and the smell was unbearable. I stepped closer and saw a note stuck to one of the pumpkins.
The smudged note read, “Figured you’d want the rest of the neighborhood’s decorations too. Enjoy cleaning it up, since you love decorating so much!”
I knew that handwriting: my neighbor Brenda. My blood boiled.
I clenched my fists. Of course. Only she would pull something like this. I stormed back inside, tossed the newspaper onto the table, and grabbed my coat. I wasn’t going to let this slide.
Marching over to their house, I barely noticed the crisp autumn air or the crunch of leaves under my feet. My mind was a jumble of anger and disbelief. I knocked, and it wasn’t long before Gary opened the door, a smug grin plastered on his face.
“Morning,” he said, crossing his arms. “Something you need?”
I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady. “Is there a reason your junk is all over my lawn?” I asked, giving him a pointed look.
He shrugged, barely hiding his smirk. “Well, since you’re the last one with Halloween stuff out, we thought you wouldn’t mind picking up ours too. Figured you’d want it all together, seeing as you’re the ‘Halloween Queen’ around here.”
I covered my face, stunned by the audacity. “So you just… dumped it all on my yard?”
Gary leaned against the doorframe, unfazed. “Look, the whole block’s tired of your spooky junk lingering around. We’re just doing you a favor. Brenda said you’d appreciate it.”
“A favor?” I repeated, my voice thick with disbelief.
He grinned wider. “Think of it as community service.”
My head spun as I tried to process his gall. Part of me wanted to turn around, clean up their mess quietly, and let it go. But the other part of me wasn’t sure I could let them get away with this. I glanced back at my yard, at the rotten, stinking mess, and felt my anger bubbling up.
Gary gave me a little wave. “Anything else, or are we good here?”
I bit my tongue, holding back every sharp word that was begging to be said.
That night, I stewed over Gary and Brenda’s little “favor.” I replayed the smug smirk on Gary’s face, the way he had casually called my decorations “spooky junk” in my head. I tossed and turned for hours, my mind racing with ideas.
Finally, just before dawn, a plan clicked into place. If they wanted to share their Halloween mess, I’d be more than happy to “return” the favor.
The next evening, after work, I gathered every rotting pumpkin, dead cornstalk, and broken skeleton from my yard, holding my breath as I piled the rank decorations into my wheelbarrow. The smell was horrendous, and I had to fight back the urge to gag. But my anger kept me going.
I wheeled everything over to Gary and Brenda’s house, checking to make sure nobody was around. Their lights were off; they weren’t home yet. Perfect.
With painstaking care, I arranged the rotting decorations all over their front lawn, lining the pathway with moldy, collapsing pumpkins. I set up the skeletons in twisted, eerie poses—one “guarding” their mailbox, another “climbing” their porch railing.
I even draped cornstalks around their front steps, making it look like a spooky swamp. Every time I stepped back to check my work, a wicked grin spread across my face. It was petty, yes, but there was a strange satisfaction in returning their “gift.”
To top it all off, I left my own note on their doorstep. “Thought I’d help with your cleanup, since you love community service so much. Happy belated Halloween!” I signed it with a big, loopy heart for a bit of flair. My work was done.
Three days later, I was having my morning coffee when my phone rang. I glanced at the screen. Brenda. I almost didn’t answer, but curiosity got the best of me. I took a slow sip and hit “answer.”
“What did you DO?” Brenda’s voice screeched through the speaker, so loud I had to pull the phone away from my ear. “We’re losing our house because of you!”
“Excuse me?” I said, keeping my tone as calm as possible.
“You’ve ruined everything! We’re being fined thousands of dollars, and it’s all your fault!” Her voice was panicked, almost hysterical.
I raised an eyebrow, my mind racing. “Brenda, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, don’t act innocent!” she snapped. “Ever since you dumped that… that filth on our lawn, it’s been a nightmare! Rats got into the house! They chewed through wiring, and now we’re looking at repairs we can’t afford. And that was the final straw with the HOA!”
I leaned back in my chair, enjoying the irony. “So… you’re saying the HOA finally got fed up with your ‘spooky junk’?”
“Don’t play games!” she shot back. “The HOA is threatening to evict us if we don’t pay up. They said this is the last warning. And it’s all because of that mess you left on our lawn!”
“Oh, that mess?” I replied, doing my best to keep a straight face. “Funny, because my security cameras show you and Gary dumping those decorations on my lawn first.”
She went quiet for a second, then sputtered, “W-we… that’s irrelevant! You’re the one who trespassed. You set us up!”
“Set you up?” I let out a small laugh. “Brenda, you and Gary trespassed on my property, not the other way around. I just returned your things.”
“You need to tell the HOA it was all a misunderstanding!” she demanded, her voice growing desperate. “You have to fix this!”
“Why should I?” I asked, keeping my voice level. “You’re the ones who left that mess in my yard. Maybe if you’d cleaned up your own junk, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
Brenda’s tone softened, almost pleading. “Please, we’re going to lose our house! Just talk to the HOA. You can’t let them do this to us!”
I took a deep breath, feeling a tiny bit of sympathy for the first time. But then I remembered all the years of petty complaints, the entitled behavior, and the final straw of dumping their trash in my yard. I sighed, giving her one last piece of advice.
“Maybe next time, you should think twice before trying to make your mess someone else’s problem,” I said, my voice steady. “Good luck, Brenda.”
Turns out, the HOA had been dealing with complaints about them for months. They’d ignored multiple notices about their overgrown lawn, broken fence, and peeling paint. Worse, neighbors had reported pests and a foul odor around their property long before Halloween. The rat issue was just the latest and the biggest problem on a long list.
The fallout was quick. With the video footage, the HOA dismissed every single one of their accusations against me. They were hit with fines for property neglect, health violations, and even the rat infestation, and without any way to pay it off, Gary and Brenda had no choice but to sell their home.
On their last day, I watched from my window as they loaded boxes into a small, beat-up U-Haul. They looked exhausted, beaten down. Gary’s shoulders slumped as he packed the last box, while Brenda sat on the curb, looking like she hadn’t slept in days.
As they drove away, I felt a pang of guilt. But then I remembered their smug faces, the way they thought they could just dump their problems on me and walk away. In the end, they got exactly what they deserved.
And Halloween? I think next year, I’ll go even bigger.
