For more than a decade, Elton had enjoyed the peace and quiet of his neighborhood—a place where lawns were always neat, neighbors waved in passing, and children’s laughter filled the air. That calm ended when Gideon moved in next door. At first, he seemed friendly enough, introducing himself and chatting about how he and his wife, Lila, had left city life for something quieter.
Elton welcomed him, thinking they’d get along just fine. But trouble started when Gideon asked to use Elton’s driveway for a few days while his own was being repaved. Elton explained that with his two cars and his teenage kids’ vehicles constantly coming and going, it wasn’t possible. Gideon pushed, but Elton politely stood firm, saying it was common sense, not personal. Gideon walked away annoyed, and Elton assumed that was the end of it. He was wrong. The very next morning, Elton found Gideon’s car parked squarely in his driveway, blocking him from leaving. Already running late, with his kids needing to get to school and his wife Maris about to head out, Elton stormed over and knocked hard on Gideon’s door.
Gideon, still in pajamas, brushed it off as “only for a few hours,” but Elton demanded he move it immediately. Gideon reluctantly complied, honking sarcastically as Elton drove off. Over the next week, Gideon repeatedly used the driveway—sometimes with his own car, other times with friends’ vehicles, crates, or lawn equipment. Frustrated, Elton vented to Maris over dinner, but she urged him not to start a fight and instead contact the homeowners’ association to file a formal complaint. He agreed that might be the smarter move, but before he could act, things got worse. One morning, Elton walked outside to find his perfect lawn vandalized with bright orange spray paint spelling “SELFISH JERK” in massive letters.
His blood boiled—not only was his lawn ruined, but now the whole neighborhood could see the insult. He took photos and stormed to Gideon’s door, only to be met with a smug grin. When Elton confronted him, Gideon laughed and mocked the idea of calling the police over “some paint.” Fighting to keep his composure, Elton warned him, “You’ll regret this,” and left before doing something rash. At the police station, he filed a report, but the officers explained there was little they could do since the paint wasn’t permanent and no real property damage had occurred.
That’s when Elton called his brother Thane, who owned a landscaping business, and filled him in on the situation. Thane laughed but assured him he had the perfect plan—a new, non-toxic, chalk-based dye designed for sprinklers. That weekend, Thane and his crew came fully equipped. They spent the day tearing up the damaged lawn, laying down pristine new sod, and setting up a special sprinkler system infused with the dye. The color was harmless, washable, and completely safe—but it would make quite a scene.
Early Sunday morning, Elton, coffee in hand, watched from his porch as Gideon strolled by with his dog. Right on cue, the sprinklers burst to life, drenching both man and dog in a flood of brilliant blue water from head to toe. Gideon’s face was a picture of shock and fury as he cursed and hurried away, leaving a trail of blue drips. The spectacle was in full view of the neighborhood, ensuring everyone saw his humiliation. Later that day, Gideon stormed over, still streaked with blue stains, demanding, “What the hell, man?”
Elton leaned casually against his doorframe, arms crossed, and replied coolly, “What are you going to do, Gideon? Call the cops about some water?” Gideon stood in silence, then turned and walked away without another word. Since that day, he hasn’t parked in Elton’s driveway or pulled any other stunts. Elton knows the feud isn’t truly over, but for now, he’s just waiting—ready to teach Gideon another lesson if he ever dares to start again.
