Whether you live in a home or a flat, terrible neighbors are a genuine issue that occurs far more frequently than is legally permitted. But the trouble with overly complicated and openly confusing neighbor feuds is that it’s sometimes hard for an outsider to take sides. Read the story to know what happened between these neighbours and share your thoughts on this.
Source: Reddit
Once, many years ago, we innocently bought a house next door to a retired marine couple. She was about 6’2″ and strongly resembled Ahnold It’s Not a Tumor in his current state, and he was about 5’7″ and probably weighed 130#. They were very house/yard proud and thoroughly obnoxious about it.
After living next to them for a short time, for some unknown reason (no, really!) they decided to mount a campaign of general obnoxiousness against us. It started small, a note on a friend’s car that he was three inches over on their side when parked on the street in front of our house. Then it escalated. Rapidly. They reported us to animal control for farm animals inside the city limit (We had two shih tzu. They were not used to pull a plow.)
They reported us to the health dept. for leaving our pool with a small amount of water in it and breeding mosquitoes (it was hydrochloric acid being used to wash the pool and prep it for repair as it was derelict when we moved in). They reported us for repairing our fence without a permit. Not moving it, not tearing it down or replacing it, we merely nailed some boards back up. They reported us for loud parties, and quiet parties and no parties…they called city hall on us so often it became a joke amongst those hallowed halls. All the while they continued with the small harassments as well.
We ignored all of this, just making sure we had an extra plate for whatever official they called out that day. But then, then, they committed the ultimate crime.
We were breakfasting on the patio one lovely morning when I happened to look over and see a sprayer nozzle come through the fence slats. And they sprayed poison on my tomato and jalapeno plants. Now we love our salsa and I make an absolutely exquisite fresh salsa. And they dared spray poison on my tomato and jalapeno plants.
Poison my tomatoes and peppers, will you? In Texas that’s a killin’ offense. Sadly, we did not live in Texas so I was forced to devise my own punishment.
One thing about their house is that it must have been built on an ant hill. They constantly fought ants. We regularly heard them complaining about ants as they tried to rid them from their backyard.
Our homes were built on a golf course and being considered patio homes all had lovely large patios with huge kitchen windows with sliding glass opening onto a pass through/serving counter.
So I made a very, very large batch of simple syrup and froze it in ice cube trays. Friends and I would sit on our patio and toss ice cubes. We had a points system that ranged from getting the cubes on the patio, to getting them up against the base of the sliding door, to getting them onto the counter and up against the opening of the window. We gave them ants. Lots of ants.
Not being particularly close neighbors, the Marines gave us no warning when they went on vacation. We did notice it got quieter and I didn’t overhear any further discussion between them about the sticky mess that regularly showed up on their patio, but I didn’t really think about it. Besides, I was behind on points. So the bombardment continued.
The ants celebrated. They sent out telegrams worldwide inviting all of their relatives to move. They had found paradise. The grass was green and there were regular supply drops.
They invaded. There were tiny black ants, larger brown ants and big red ants. Hosannas were sung. They built neighborhoods of McAntsions. Ant Rockettes did the can-can across the counter. They held parades. There were Friday night fiestas with live ant mariachi bands. It was beautemous.
I went through three 5lb bags of sugar.
We knew exactly when the Marines got home from their six week cruise. We could tell by the screeches of anguish. Apparently the ants had made their way inside. There were screams from the kitchen, and the pantry, and the laundry room, and the bathroom. It was ear shattering. (Who knew a 5’7″ male could even make those sounds?)
Battle was enjoyable. The Army Ants dug foxholes and built redoubts. The Fire Ants formed Special Forces teams and close protection units.
The war raged for months.
Despite regular resupply, the ants were decimated. The Marines were seen collapsed in patio chairs, hollow eyed with exhaustion, their once pristine backyard closely resembling the aftermath of the battle of Ypres.
Peace Talks were held. Detente was achieved. Calm reigned on Avenida Pancho Villa.
Until The Marines got their second breath and reinforcements in the form of their son, The Marine Jr. Further shenanigans ensued. And yours truly discovered that raccoons are not only exceedingly dextrous, they are inordinately fond of overripe figs. But that’s another tale.
