It had been a rough year for my grandpa. He had been battling a serious illness and had barely left his apartment. To lift his spirits, I decided to visit him, making a long drive from my town to his. When I finally arrived, I was greeted by a sight that broke my heart.
There, on the windshield of his car, was a handwritten note scrawled in angry red ink. It read, “Dirty pig. Clean up your mess. No one wants your garbage here.” My heart sank. How could someone be so cruel to a sick old man?
I knew I needed to take action. First, I headed to the security office to review the camera footage. The security guard showed me the footage and confirmed that the note was left by a neighbor named Mrs. Thompson, who had a history of causing trouble for my grandpa. The guard also told me she had been complaining about my grandpa’s car being parked in the spot she wanted, despite the fact that he had every right to park there.
As I walked to Mrs. Thompson’s apartment, I formulated a plan. I wasn’t just going to confront her—I was going to make sure she understood the consequences of her actions. I stopped by a hardware store on the way and bought a roll of duct tape.
When I reached her apartment, I knocked firmly on the door. Mrs. Thompson opened it with a haughty expression, clearly not expecting any trouble.
“Can I help you?” she asked with a sneer.
I didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “Yes, actually. I’m here about the note you left on my grandpa’s car.”
Her face turned smug, but she tried to play it cool. “Oh? I don’t see what the problem is.”
“The problem is that you’re a bully, and you’re about to get a taste of your own medicine,” I said, holding up the roll of duct tape.
Before she could react, I stepped past her and headed towards her car, which was parked conveniently in the same lot where my grandpa’s car had been vandalized. I grabbed a handful of duct tape and started wrapping her car in it—around the doors, the windows, and even the mirrors. I made sure every inch was covered, turning her car into a bizarre, tape-covered sculpture.
Mrs. Thompson watched in shock and disbelief, her mouth hanging open. I kept working, making sure to cover every surface, while explaining my actions.
“You see, Mrs. Thompson, my grandpa is sick. He’s been through more than you can imagine. You think it’s okay to harass him and insult him because you’re inconvenienced? Well, now you get to experience a little inconvenience yourself. Maybe next time you’ll think twice before targeting someone who’s already down.”
After I finished, I turned to face her. Her face was flushed with anger, but she said nothing. I knew she was probably seething inside, but she had nothing to say about the lesson she had just been taught.
As I left, I made sure to leave a note on her windshield. It read, “Next time you feel like being cruel, remember how it feels to be treated with disrespect. I hope this experience helps you reflect on your actions.”
I returned to my grandpa’s place, feeling a sense of satisfaction. My grandpa might not know exactly what happened, but at least I had made sure that Mrs. Thompson learned a valuable lesson about kindness and respect.