It all started innocently enough. A new neighbor moved in next door, a rather burly guy who seemed to keep to himself. I initially thought nothing of it, just another person wanting some peace and quiet. But as the days turned into weeks, I couldn’t help but notice his **strange behavior**. He would actively avoid eye contact, and if I or anyone else in the neighborhood tried to strike up a conversation, he would mumble something incoherent and quickly retreat inside his house. It was odd, but I figured he was just an introvert. I left it at that and tried to move on with my life, but the peculiar events had only just begun. Then, things started to get weird. I would find trash scattered on my porch in the morning, even though I always made sure to secure the bins. Then, one day, I woke up to find coffee grounds spilled all over my front lawn. I was starting to get annoyed. I figured it was kids or some random act of vandalism, but something in the back of my mind kept telling me it was him. The quiet, **brooding neighbor**. The one who gave me the creeps. The one who always seemed to be watching. I had no proof, though, so I just cleaned it up and tried to ignore it.
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But the final straw, the moment that pushed me over the edge, was when I found my beloved flower pots, the ones I had spent weeks cultivating, completely destroyed. Smashed to pieces, with dirt and broken shards scattered everywhere. That was it. I was furious. I had a gut feeling that he was responsible, and I wasn’t going to let him get away with it anymore. I decided to take matters into my own hands. I was going to confront him and teach him a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget.
I spent the next few days plotting my revenge. I considered various options, from simply yelling at him to reporting him to the homeowners association. But none of those felt satisfying enough. I wanted to make him feel the same frustration and anger that he had inflicted upon me. So, I hatched a plan that I thought was both clever and just. I wasn’t planning on anything illegal, mind you. It was mostly just some petty pranks designed to cause him mild inconvenience.
On the appointed day, I gathered my supplies: a bag of dog poop (collected from my own dog, of course), a roll of toilet paper, and a few other harmless items. I waited until nightfall, when I knew he would be home and asleep. Then, under the cover of darkness, I crept over to his house. My heart was pounding with a mix of excitement and nervousness. I knew I was doing something wrong, but I couldn’t help myself. He deserved it.
I started by smearing the dog poop on his doorknob. Then, I toilet-papered his trees and bushes. I even rearranged his lawn ornaments into a suggestive formation. I know, it was childish, but it felt good to finally get some payback. As I was finishing up, I heard a noise coming from inside the house. I froze, fearing that I had been caught. I quickly ducked behind a bush and waited to see what would happen.
To my surprise, the front door slowly creaked open, and my neighbor emerged. But it wasn’t the angry, menacing figure I had expected. Instead, he looked tired and defeated. He walked over to the mess I had created and just stared at it for a long time. Then, he let out a sigh and began to clean it up. As I watched him, I started to feel a pang of guilt. Maybe I had misjudged him. Maybe he wasn’t the villain I had made him out to be. The next morning I ended up apologizing for everything, and we have been friends ever since.
