Neighbor Painted an Insult on My Lawn — How I Taught Him a Lesson He’ll Never Forget

My Neighbor Painted an Insult on My Lawn, So I Taught Him a Lesson He Won’t Forget

Before Tim moved in next door and started being a continuous bother, Brian had lived in his neighborhood in peace and quiet for more than ten years. Tim retaliates by spray-painting an insult on Brian’s lawn following their initial argument. Not to be outdone, though, Brian chooses to discipline Tim.

This peaceful area has been my home for almost ten years. It’s the kind of neighborhood where people wave to each other, the lawns are well-kept, kids giggle and grin, and everything is quiet—that is, until Tim moved in next door.

Initially, he appeared normal. Enough to be friendly. After Tim introduced himself and we had a few small talk, I was certain that we would get along well.

He introduced himself as Tim. “My spouse and I recently moved in. Opal determined that we wanted a tranquil spot once we had enjoyed the city life for a while.”

I introduced myself as Brian, sincere in my interest in him. “My family and I have resided here for all time. You’ve arrived at the perfect spot if you’re seeking tranquility.”

“I’ve always wanted a place where the neighbors and I could just sit back and have a barbecue and a beer,” Tim joked.

“I look forward to it!” As we strolled along the front porch, I spoke. I was about to go grocery shopping.

All went well, and throughout the next two weeks, I saw Tim frequently as he moved into his new house and began carrying boxes.

He then asked to use my driveway while his was being repaved one afternoon when he knocked on my door.

“The guys estimated that it would take no more than two or three days. The truck is a little too huge to be left on the side of the road.”

“I apologize, dear,” I murmured. “The kids have their own car, and Kelsey and I own two.” Teenagers, you know, are constantly coming and departing.”

Yes, Brian, I understand, but that’s only going to last a few days. Not once again.”

“I apologize,” I said. “It’s nothing personal, Tim, it’s just practical.”

He walked stomping down the driveway, huffing away from the door.

I felt that I treated Tim fairly because I was upfront and truthful with him, therefore there shouldn’t have been any animosity, right?

I was in error.

I finished loading the dishwasher and was ready to go to work the following morning. After stepping outside to enjoy the early morning sun for a short while, I noticed Tim’s truck parked halfway into my driveway, obstructing my path.

“Is this guy serious?” I muttered something to myself.

The children needed to go to school, and Kelsey was about to depart as well. I was already frustrated with this guy’s behavior, and I was going to be late anyhow. We had, after all, discussed this. I’d expressed my feelings to him about it. And he left his car parked here?

I strode over to his door and gave it a forceful knock.

Tim had on a nightgown and pajamas when he opened up.

“Tim, I told you about parking your truck in my driveway,” I said.

He simply shrugged.

“Man, it’s only for a few hours,” he remarked. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Tim, move it. Right now. Everybody has somewhere to be,” I remarked.

I gave him a fierce look.

With a dramatic sigh, he moved the truck and let out a hoot as I drove away.

It wasn’t the final time, despite my expectation that it would be. He continued doing it for the next week. His truck, the cars he visits with friends, boxes, and garden tools. He would just put stuff in my driveway, so it didn’t really matter.

Good old Tim would make good use of any available area.

I finally gave up.

My wife Kelsey advised me, “Don’t fight with him, love,” as I was whining about Tim during dinner.

I remarked, slicing through the roast chicken, “But if nothing changes, he’s just going to continue this behavior.”

Next, Brian, give the homeowners’ association a call. Make a grievance. They won’t let it go, you know that. They’ll issue a warning to him, which ought to suffice.”

I gave a nod. That was the more tactful course of action.

But that’s when the horrible part started.

When I went outdoors the following morning, my lawn was covered in brilliant orange spray paint. It said, SELFISH JERK, in big, bold letters.

When I saw the wall, I nearly punched it. My once-very-prideful grass was completely destroyed. Even worse, it was visible to everyone in the area.

I marched over to Tim’s house, snapped pictures of the message, and banged on his door. He was beaming like a child who’d just pulled off the year’s biggest practical joke when he opened up.

“Do you really think this is funny?” I yelled and thrust my phone in his direction.

He laughed and asked, “What are you going to do about it?” “Call the cops over some paint?”

I clinched my fists, struggling to contain myself. I detested it when someone exploited me.

I said, “You’re going to regret this,” and turned to walk away to avoid making a mistake.

I went directly to the police station by car.

I reported it to the police, but they were unable to take much action. Tim hadn’t specifically harmed any property, and the paint wasn’t set in stone. All the police could do was record the event. I soon realized that I needed a plan of my own, and I came up with the ideal one.

Tim was unaware that my brother owns a landscaping business.

“I need your help, Andrew,” I hurriedly explained to him what had occurred.

My sibling giggled for a while.

“Brother, I’ve got you covered,” he said. “We’ve got a new dye that will make sprinklers fun!”

Even though I had no idea what he was talking about, I knew he was the finest in the field and that he would mend my grass while still making an effort to impart some wisdom to Tim.

Andrew arrived that weekend with his team and all the necessary gear. We tore up my front yard, dug up the damaged grass, and installed brand-new, perfect sod all in one day.

The finest thing, though, wasn’t that. At last, Andrew clarified his meaning regarding the dye.

“It’s a harmless chalk-based dye,” he remarked. For a project at one of the schools, we developed it. It was an installation with sprinklers, lights, and designs. It will teach this person a lesson, but I won’t go into details.”

Thinking about Tim’s response to the new sprinkler system, I laughed alongside my brother.

As anticipated, Tim was walking his dog directly by my house on Sunday morning. With my coffee in hand, I stood on the porch outside, ready to watch the show.

As planned, bright blue water burst into Tim’s and his dog’s faces, completely submerging them.

The expression on his face was priceless. Running, covered in drops of blue dye, and swearing beneath his breath, he set out. Although I would have felt horrible, the color was safe and readily removed. The fact that he felt embarrassed in front of the whole neighborhood, meanwhile, brought him satisfaction.

Tim stormed over later that day, his clothes splattered with blue stains.

He screamed, “What the hell, man?” at me.

I crossed my arms and leaned against my doorframe.

“What steps will you take, Tim? Make a police call about some water.”

Without saying anything further, he turned and left after giving me a dumbfounded look.

He hasn’t done any antics or parked in my driveway since then. To be honest though, all I’m waiting for is for him to act in another way. I’ll just keep on imparting knowledge to him.

How would you have responded in that situation?