My Neighbor Threw Eggs at My Car Because It Was ‘Blocking the View’ of His Halloween Decorations

Exhausted and running on little sleep, Genevieve’s life became all about getting through each day since her twins, Lily and Lucas, were born. Day blended into night, and caring for two newborns drained all her energy. While the neighborhood buzzed with excitement for Halloween, Genevieve could barely keep up with the usual activities.

Then there was Brad, her next-door neighbor. He called himself the king of Halloween. Every year, he turned his house into a Halloween spectacle with gravestones, skeletons, and giant pumpkins. He loved the compliments from neighbors, his smug grin growing wider each time. But for Genevieve, it didn’t matter. She was too tired to care about Brad’s haunted display.

One October morning, Genevieve stepped outside, holding Lily on her hip and Lucas in her arm, barely awake. Her eyes widened—her car was covered in eggs. Shells were scattered across the hood, and yolk dripped down the windshield. This wasn’t a random prank. It seemed targeted, especially since her car had been parked in front of Brad’s house.

Fuming and exhausted, Genevieve decided to confront Brad. She marched to his house, anger bubbling as she knocked on his door. Brad answered with his usual smug look. His house was decked out for Halloween, with cobwebs, skeletons, and witches perfectly placed in a chaotic scene.

“Did you see who egged my car?” she demanded.

Brad didn’t flinch. “I did,” he said calmly. “Your car was blocking my decorations.”

Genevieve was shocked. “You egged my car because it was in front of your house? You didn’t even ask me to move it!”

Brad shrugged. “People come from all over to see my display. How can they see it with your car in the way?”

He crossed his arms, looking completely unfazed. “I’m the Halloween King. My display is important, and I need a little cooperation.”

Genevieve’s anger simmered. “I have newborn twins, Brad. I parked there because it’s easier when I’m carrying both babies.”

Brad shrugged again. “Not my problem, Genevieve. After Halloween, park there as much as you want.”

Genevieve stood there, too tired to argue. Instead of yelling, she turned and walked away. As she cleaned her egg-covered car later, a thought crossed her mind—this wasn’t over. If Brad wanted to play dirty, she could play smarter.

That night, rocking Lily to sleep, an idea came to her. Brad’s weak spot was his pride—his Halloween display. He needed everything to be perfect. Genevieve didn’t have the energy for a direct confrontation, but subtle revenge? That she could handle.

The next day, Genevieve approached Brad while he added the final touches to his decorations. “Hey, Brad,” she said cheerfully. “Your display looks great, but have you thought about adding some high-tech stuff to make it even better? Like fog machines and ghost projectors?”

Brad looked at her, suspicious. “Upgrade?” he asked.

Genevieve nodded and listed a few brands she had researched. They were all cheap machines that worked poorly, but Brad didn’t need to know that. “If you want to be the best, these could really take it to the next level,” she said.

Brad’s eyes lit up. He loved the idea of outdoing the rest of the neighborhood.

On Halloween night, Brad’s house looked amazing. He had gone all out with fog machines and ghost projectors, drawing a crowd of parents and kids. Brad stood proudly, soaking in the admiration.

Genevieve watched from her porch, holding her twins, feeling like the villain in a low-budget movie. She had to admit, it looked impressive—at first. Then, as she expected, things started to go wrong.

Right on cue, the fog machine sputtered and turned into a malfunctioning sprinkler, spraying water all over Brad’s lawn. Kids giggled, and the adults tried to hold back their laughter as Brad frantically pushed buttons to fix it.

Next, the ghost projector flickered, and the spooky ghost turned into a jittery, cartoonish blob on the wall. The children burst into laughter, and Brad’s frustration was clear as he tried to salvage the situation.

The final blow came when the giant inflatable Frankenstein collapsed in slow motion, its head rolling across the yard. Teenagers, sensing an opportunity, started throwing eggs at Brad’s house. His haunted masterpiece had become a comedy show, and there was no saving it.

The next morning, there was a knock on Genevieve’s door. She opened it to find Brad, looking deflated, just like his inflatable Frankenstein. He looked uncomfortable, his arrogance gone.

“I, uh, wanted to apologize,” he mumbled, avoiding her gaze. “For egging your car. I overreacted.”

Genevieve crossed her arms, taking her time before replying. “Yeah, you did.”

Brad shifted awkwardly. “I didn’t realize how hard it must be with the twins and all. I’m sorry.”

Genevieve let the silence hang, watching him squirm. “Thanks for apologizing, Brad. I’m sure it won’t happen again.”

Brad nodded, eager to end the awkwardness. “It won’t.”

As he turned to leave, Genevieve couldn’t resist saying, “Funny how things balance out, huh?”

Brad glanced back but, for once, didn’t have a response.