Life was a blur for Genevieve. Since the birth of her twins, Lily and Lucas, she had been running on fumes, barely catching a break. Days bled into nights, and caring for two newborns drained her energy completely. She was too tired to even think about the approaching Halloween.
While her neighbors excitedly prepped their homes with decorations and lights, Genevieve could barely muster the energy to get out of bed.
Then there was Brad, her next-door neighbor and self-proclaimed “King of Halloween.” Every year, he transformed his house into a Halloween wonderland, with cobwebs, skeletons, and giant pumpkins. He thrived on the attention and compliments, his smug grin widening with each one. But for Genevieve, it was just noise. She had no energy to care about his elaborate setup.
One chilly October morning, Genevieve stepped outside with Lily on her hip and Lucas in her arm, her eyes barely open. She stopped in her tracks when she saw her car. It was covered in eggs. Yolk dripped down the windshield, and egg shells were scattered across the hood. Her stomach sank. This wasn’t some random prank. It was personal. And her car had been parked right in front of Brad’s house.
Anger flared up inside Genevieve, but exhaustion weighed her down. Still, she was determined to confront Brad. She marched to his door, fury in her heart, both twins still in her arms. Brad answered with his usual smirk, standing proudly in front of his Halloween extravaganza—skeletons hanging from trees, giant pumpkins lit up, and everything else in perfect spooky order.
“Did you see who egged my car?” Genevieve demanded, her voice trembling with frustration.
Brad didn’t flinch. “I did,” he replied coolly. “Your car was blocking my decorations.”
Genevieve was taken aback. “You egged my car because it was in front of your house? You didn’t even ask me to move it!”
Brad shrugged as if it were the most logical thing in the world. “People come from all over to see my display. How could they enjoy it with your car there?”
He crossed his arms, completely unapologetic. “I’m the Halloween King, Genevieve. My display matters. A little cooperation wouldn’t hurt.”
Genevieve’s frustration boiled over. “I have newborn twins, Brad! I parked there because it’s easier for me when I’m carrying both babies.”
Brad just shrugged again. “Not my problem, Genevieve. After Halloween, park wherever you like.”
Too tired to argue anymore, Genevieve turned and walked away. But inside, a plan started to form. If Brad wanted to play dirty, she could outsmart him.
That night, as she rocked Lily to sleep, the idea hit her. Brad’s pride was his Halloween display. She could use that to her advantage. She didn’t have the energy for a direct confrontation, but a subtle revenge? That was doable.
The next day, as Brad put the finishing touches on his decorations, Genevieve approached him. “Hey, Brad,” she said sweetly. “Your display looks awesome! Have you thought about adding some cool tech to it? Fog machines, maybe, or ghost projectors?”
Brad raised an eyebrow, suspicious but curious. “Upgrade?”
Genevieve nodded enthusiastically, listing several brands she had researched. They were cheap and barely functional, but Brad didn’t need to know that. “These could really take your display to the next level,” she said. “If you want to be the best, that is.”
Brad’s eyes gleamed with excitement. He loved the idea of outdoing the rest of the neighborhood.
On Halloween night, Brad’s house looked amazing at first. The fog machines were running, and ghost projectors cast spooky shadows. The crowd marveled at the display, and Brad soaked up their admiration. Genevieve watched from her porch, holding her twins, and waited for the chaos to begin.
And then it happened—just as Genevieve had expected.
The fog machine sputtered and malfunctioned, turning into a sprinkler and soaking the front yard. Laughter erupted from the kids, and the adults tried to hold back their amusement as Brad fumbled to fix it.
Then, the ghost projector flickered, and the ghost image turned into a weird, jittery blob on the wall. The kids burst into laughter, and Brad’s frustration was palpable.
Finally, the inflatable Frankenstein started to deflate slowly, its head rolling across the lawn like a limp balloon. Teenagers began throwing eggs at Brad’s house, and his haunted masterpiece turned into a comedy show.
The next morning, Brad knocked on Genevieve’s door. He looked humbled, the swagger completely gone. “I, uh, wanted to apologize,” he mumbled. “For egging your car. I overreacted.”
Genevieve crossed her arms, taking her time before answering. “Yeah, you did.”
Brad shifted awkwardly. “I didn’t realize how hard it must be with the twins. I’m sorry.”
Genevieve let the silence hang in the air before responding. “Thanks for apologizing, Brad. I’m sure it won’t happen again.”
Brad nodded, eager to escape the awkwardness. “It won’t.”
As he walked away, Genevieve couldn’t help but add, “Funny how things balance out, huh?”
Brad didn’t have a response. And for once, Genevieve was the one with the last word.
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