The Morning My Car Was “Haunted”
The day before Halloween started with a shriek — not from ghosts, but from my three-year-old. “Mommy… is the car sick?” he asked, staring at the mess outside.
I’m Emily, 36, a full-time nurse and single mom to three kids: Lily, Max, and Noah. Most mornings start before dawn and end long after bedtime stories. But this one began with toilet paper hanging from my car like ghostly streamers and dried egg crusting the windshield.
The evidence led straight to my neighbor Derek’s house. Derek, the self-proclaimed king of holiday decorations, was known for turning his yard into a carnival every season — snow machines for Christmas, fireworks for the Fourth of July, and fog-spewing skeletons for Halloween.
That night before, I had parked in front of his house — the only open spot — after a long shift at the hospital. My kids were half-asleep in their pumpkin pajamas. I figured he wouldn’t mind. I was wrong.
When I confronted him, he admitted it without a hint of shame.
“Yeah, I did,” he said casually. “You blocked my setup. People couldn’t see the whole display.”
I blinked. “So you egged my car because it ruined your Halloween photo op?”
He smirked. “Don’t be so dramatic, sweetheart. You chose to have those kids. Maybe next time, you’ll park somewhere else.”
Something inside me went cold. I didn’t yell or argue. I just said, “Okay,” turned around, and walked back home — my kids watching from the window.
That night, as the house grew quiet, I made a decision. Not for revenge, but for respect. I took photos of everything — the yolk, the shells, the toilet paper. I gathered witness statements from neighbors who had seen him outside. And the next morning, I filed a police report for property vandalism.
By afternoon, I slipped a neat envelope under Derek’s door — the report, the photos, and a $500 repair estimate. I also cc’d the Homeowners Association for good measure.