Brian had enjoyed over a decade of peace and quiet in his neighborhood—until Tim moved in next door and shook things up. Their first disagreement led Tim to retaliate in the most childish way: by spray-painting an insult on Brian’s lawn. But Brian, not one to back down, decided it was time to teach Tim a lesson he wouldn’t forget.
“I had lived in this peaceful neighborhood for almost ten years,” Brian remembered. “Everything was perfect: the lawns were always trimmed, neighbors waved as they passed, and kids’ laughter filled the air. It was a tranquil and predictable place—until Tim moved in.”
Tim seemed okay at first. He greeted Brian with a friendly smile and introduced himself. “I’m Tim,” he said, shaking Brian’s hand. “The wife and I just moved in. We enjoyed city life for a while, but Opal decided we needed a quieter spot.”
“I’m Brian,” Brian replied, returning the handshake. “I’ve lived here with my family for ages. You’ve come to the right place if you’re looking for peace.”
They exchanged pleasantries, and Tim joked about looking forward to backyard barbecues with the neighbors. For the next few weeks, Tim settled into his new home, and Brian thought everything would stay calm.
But one afternoon, Tim knocked on Brian’s door, asking if he could use Brian’s driveway while his was being repaved.
“The workers say it’ll take two or three days at most,” Tim explained. “I can’t leave my truck on the road—it’s too big.”
Brian hesitated. “I’m sorry, Tim. Between my wife, the kids, and me, our driveway is always full. The teens are constantly coming and going.”
Tim’s face fell. “It’s just a few days,” he grumbled, but Brian stuck to his decision.
“It’s not personal,” Brian said, trying to be polite. “It’s just practical.”
Tim left angrily, and Brian hoped that would be the end of it. He was wrong.
The next morning, Brian stepped outside, ready for work, only to find Tim’s enormous truck blocking his driveway.
“Is this guy serious?” Brian muttered. He had already told Tim they didn’t have space, and now his truck was making him late.
Brian marched over to Tim’s door and knocked hard. Tim answered in his pajamas, looking unconcerned.
“Tim, I told you not to park in my driveway,” Brian said, keeping his voice calm.
“It’s only for a few hours,” Tim shrugged. “Not a big deal.”
“It is a big deal. Move it, Tim. Now.”
With a dramatic sigh, Tim moved his truck. But that wasn’t the end of it. Over the next few days, Tim kept leaving things in Brian’s driveway—his truck, his friends’ cars, boxes, even lawn equipment. It seemed like if there was any free space, Tim claimed it.
Frustrated, Brian vented to his wife, Kelsey, at dinner. “If I don’t do something, he’s going to keep this up,” he said.
“Don’t start a fight with him,” Kelsey advised. “Just report it to the homeowners’ association. They’ll give him a warning, and he’ll have to stop.”
Kelsey’s advice made sense, so Brian decided to file a complaint. But the very next morning, things took a turn for the worse.
When Brian stepped outside, he saw bright orange spray paint on his lawn, spelling out: “SELFISH JERK.” His beautiful lawn was ruined, and everyone in the neighborhood could see it.
Fuming, Brian marched over to Tim’s house, photos of the damage on his phone. Tim answered with a smirk, clearly proud of his work.
“Do you think this is funny?” Brian snapped, showing him the photos.
Tim laughed. “What are you going to do about it? Call the cops over some paint?”
Brian clenched his fists, struggling to stay calm. “You’re going to regret this,” he warned before walking away.
Brian went straight to the police station, but they couldn’t do much. The spray paint wasn’t permanent, and Tim hadn’t caused any real damage beyond the lawn. Brian needed a better plan, so he called his brother, Andrew, who runs a landscaping business.
Andrew chuckled when he heard the story. “I’ve got just the thing, Brian. How about a little fun with sprinklers?”
That weekend, Andrew and his team arrived. They replaced the ruined lawn with fresh sod and installed a new sprinkler system. It was a harmless prank but would definitely send Tim a message.
On Sunday morning, Brian sat on his porch with a coffee, watching as Tim strolled by with his dog. Right on cue, the sprinklers sprang to life, spraying bright blue water all over Tim and his dog.
Tim’s face was priceless as he stood there, drenched and dripping blue dye. He took off running, cursing under his breath. The dye was harmless and would wash off easily, but Tim was humiliated in front of the entire neighborhood.
Later that day, Tim stormed over to Brian’s house, still covered in blue stains. “What the hell, man?” he shouted.
Leaning against the doorframe, Brian crossed his arms. “What are you going to do, Tim? Call the cops over some water?”
Tim stood there, speechless, before turning and walking away. Since then, Tim hasn’t parked in Brian’s driveway or pulled any more stunts. But if he tries anything again, Brian will be ready. After all, he’s got plenty more tricks up his sleeve.