I thought I’d seen it all when Shannon moved in next door, painting her house a new vibrant color every week. But nothing could’ve prepared me for the day she started sunbathing in bikinis outside my 15-year-old son’s window.
My son Jake was mortified, and I couldn’t blame him. Shannon’s sunbathing spectacles were more like public performances, complete with leopard-print loungers and dental-floss bikinis.
I tried to approach Shannon with a friendly concern, but she retaliated with a filthy toilet on my lawn, accompanied by a sign that read: “FLUSH YOUR OPINION HERE!”
Little did Shannon know, karma had already set its sights on her. Her attempts to create a scandal only led to her own downfall.
The weeks that followed were a test of patience. Shannon’s yard became a one-woman Woodstock, complete with karaoke parties and meditation drum circles. But I smiled and waved, knowing karma was working its magic.
Then, the unthinkable happened. Shannon reported a fake sewage leak, and the fire department arrived, only to find the decorative toilet bone-dry.
The final straw came when Shannon’s rooftop sunbathing adventure ended with her face-down in her petunias, covered in mud, courtesy of her malfunctioning sprinkler system.
The incident marked the end of our suburban nightmare. Shannon invested in a privacy fence, and peace returned to our neighborhood.
As I shared a laugh with Jake over breakfast, I realized that sometimes, the best revenge is simply sitting back and watching karma do its thing.
“Is it safe to come out of witness protection now?” Jake asked, raising his blinds.
I smiled, “Yeah, honey, the show’s been canceled. Permanently.”
