My Neighbor Poured Cement over My Flower Garden Because the Bees Annoyed Him—He Never Expected Payback from the ‘Sweet Old Lady’ Next Door

Knowing that Hurricane Monica would hit land in precisely seventeen minutes, I watched the clock with dread.

She was invading, not only stopping by. Additionally, she would disregard any indication of personal space and claim my bedroom as if it were hers each and every time she entered my home.

My husband, Jake, was looking through the blinds as I turned to face him. “They’re early,” he said, his tone revealing our mutual annoyance. Naturally, they arrived ten minutes early because Monica was never one for being on time.

I inhaled deeply, adjusted my shirt, and put on the grin I always wore when I was getting ready for combat. “All set for the storm?” I inquired.

Jake’s face mirrored mine as he squeezed my hand. “We’ve survived worse.”

But had we?

I had watched Monica march into our house and into our bedroom for five years. She would dump her bags on our bed, scatter her belongings on the counters, and leave a trail of fragrant candles that were so strong they made it impossible for me to breathe.

I can very clearly remember last Christmas, when I opened a drawer and saw my jewelry box was completely empty. Monica’s justification? She required “the space.” The nerve. She never once took into account the boundaries I had so meticulously set up in our house, and she always left the place in disarray.

Jake welcomed his parents enthusiastically, as he had practiced, when the doorbell rang. “Dad! Mom! It’s great to see you!

After air-kissing Jake’s cheeks and sweeping in like royalty, Monica turned to face me and assessed me with that piercing glare she always had. Her always courteous husband, Frank, trailed behind her, lugging their bags while hardly saying a word.

Monica’s soft voice contrasted with her stiff stance as she said, “It’s always nice to see you two.” While we get settled, would you mind making some coffee? It is really exhausting to travel.

She was halfway down the hall before I could reply. I looked at Jake, who knew what was about to happen but lacked the courage to stop it. When it came to his mother, he never did.

He called after her, seeming almost contrite, “Mom.” “This time, we have the guest room ready for you.”
Monica stopped in the middle of her step, gave him a quick glance, and then smiled menacingly. Yes, that’s lovely, but you are aware of how uncomfortable those guest beds are for me. You young folks are capable of handling it.

We both stood there in disbelief as she suddenly began to march toward our bedroom.

I had made several attempts to establish limits. “The guest room has a better view,” I hinted at first. The straightforward statement, “We’d prefer to keep our room private,” followed. However, she consistently disregarded me, dismissively laughing and making caustic remarks to dismiss my worries.

But I was done this time.
I had tried to establish the law one last time the previous evening. “We have prepared the guest room for you,” I informed her over the phone. It’s quiet, comfortable, and clean. We will not be sharing our bedroom.

What did she say? A patronizing “We’ll see when we arrive.”

This was not something I was going to overlook. Never again.

The following morning, I gave her the illusion of innocence with a charming smile. “Anything that makes you comfortable, of course.”

Later, I entered our bedroom to find her standing in the center of the space, grinning smugly, her bags strewn on our bed, her strong perfume blending with the aroma of the candles she had lit.

She dismissed my attempt with a single wave of her hand, saying, “The guest room receives too much morning sun.” “You young people would be better off adjusting. We intend to remain here.

I didn’t wince. I just answered, “Of course,” with a smile.

I could sense the tension in the air when Monica and Frank sat down to supper that night. She constantly found something to complain about, whether it was the food I prepared, the wine I chose, or even the dishes. But even as she hurled her verbal jabs, I maintained my composure and wore a cool grin.

Jake continued to give me perplexed looks, but I simply squeezed his palm beneath the table. He had no idea what would happen next.

As Monica and Frank retired to “their” bedroom after supper, Jake and I crept into the guest room, and he inquired, “What’s going on? Why are you so composed?

I smiled mischievously and slipped beneath the covers. “I made some preparations, let’s say.”

“What kind of preparations?” he inquired, intrigued.

I called out to him. “I’ll demonstrate.”

As I took out the lingerie, the properly concealed adult toys, and the thoughtfully positioned massage oils I had stashed about the bathroom and room, I could hardly stop laughing. When I showed him the things Monica had undoubtedly found while she was there, his eyes widened in terror.

“Oh my God,” Jake exhaled, appearing to have lost all vitality. “You didn’t!”

“I did,” I grinned. “And she witnessed everything.”

Monica appeared as like she had seen a ghost when she burst into the kitchen at precisely 7:43 a.m. the following morning. Her motions were rigid, her lips were pulled together, and her face was pale.

I offered her coffee, but she didn’t even touch it. We were silent for a while before she eventually spoke, her words coming out with obvious reluctance.

“We’ll use the visitor room. Please.

I pretended to be innocent. “Oh? I assumed you were a huge fan of the master bedroom.

Monica winced. “We had second thoughts.”

Jake coughed from stifled laughter and almost choked on his toast.

I gave a charming smile. “I recently changed the sheets in the guest room, which receives that beautiful morning light. If you like, I can assist you with moving your belongings.

“No!” she blurted out. “No, I’m grateful. We can handle anything.

Frank and Monica had quietly relocated their things into the guest room by the end of the day. With lemonade in hand, I observed karma at work from my porch.

Jake finally cornered me that evening. “All right, tell me exactly what you did,” he said in a tone that was equal parts appalled and impressed.