My Malicious Neighbors
As soon as my neighbor, Shirley Lambert, walked past my house and peeked inside, her eyes lit up.
"Mrs. Fisher, this place is huge. It has great lighting too. It'd make the perfect playroom for my son.
"You live alone anyway. Just move into our living room. A two-bedroom apartment has more than enough space.
"Since we're neighbors, I'll let you stay for free. No rent."
I felt so irritated that I nearly gagged.
She actually shoved past me into the house and started pointing around like she owned the place.
"This crappy couch has to go. The living room would feel way bigger without it.
"Oh, and the whole floor needs carpeting. That'd make it safe for my son when he runs around.
"Also, why don't you have an air-conditioner? What if my precious boy gets a heat stroke? Could you even afford his medical bills?"
She suddenly turned around and glared at me.
"Mrs. Fisher, I'm talking to you. Are you deaf? Haven't you got any manners?"
Anyone who didn't know better would've thought I was her servant and not her neighbor.
I snorted. Clearly, she had no idea about my reputation as the neighborhood menace.
"Well, I see you've got plenty of money, and I've got deep pockets. Why don't you hand all your cash over to me for keeping?
"And if you like other people's houses so much, I'll write that for you in my letter to Santa this Christmas!"