I marched outside, the offending baseball clutched in my hand like a grenade. Baron Bigshot was in his driveway, polishing his luxury car with the care most people reserve for newborns.
“Hey!” I shouted, storming up to him. “Your son’s baseball just came through my window. It nearly hit my daughter!”
He barely glanced up. “Oh? And you’re sure it was my son’s ball?”
I thrust the blueberry pie-lathered ball in his face. “Unless baseballs are falling from the sky now, yes, I’m pretty sure.”
He sighed like I was some peasant interrupting his important car-polishing duties. “Look, Ms…”
“Angela. We’ve been neighbors for three years.”
He waved his hand dismissively. “Right, right. Angela. Do you have any proof it was my Billy’s ball?”
I stared at him, dumbfounded. “Proof? There’s pie filling on it!”
“Ah,” he nodded sagely, “so you admit you tampered with the evidence.”
I felt my eye start to twitch. “Listen here, Baron Big—”
“I beg your pardon?”
I took a deep breath. “Mr. Worthington. Your son broke my window. He could have seriously hurt my daughter. The least you could do is pay for the repairs.”
He chuckled, actually chuckled! “My dear, do you know how much that would cost?”
“Probably less than one of your car’s tires,” I muttered.
His eyes narrowed. “I don’t appreciate your tone. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a birthday party to prepare for. Important guests are coming, you understand. Out of my property!”
He said that. Yep! No apology. No NOTHIN’.
As he turned away, something in me snapped. “Oh, I understand perfectly. I understand that you care more about your fancy party than the safety of your neighbors!”
He spun around, his face red. “Now see here—”
But I was on a roll. “No, you see here! Your son has been terrorizing this neighborhood for months. We’ve all been too polite to say anything, but enough is enough. You need to take responsibility!”
“I suggest you leave now before I call the police for trespassing.”
Defeated and furious, I trudged back home, the sound of his expensive sprinkler system mocking me with every step.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of cleaning up glass and comforting a still-shaken Penny.
As evening fell, the sounds of Baron Bigshot’s party drifted over. Laughter, clinking glasses, and what I was pretty sure was a live band.
I was just about to close the curtains (what was left of them anyway) when I saw something odd. A group of young men in masks, all wearing football jerseys, was marching up Baron Bigshot’s perfectly manicured lawn.
“What in the world?” I murmured, pressing my nose against the wooden window sill divider.
Suddenly, they all raised their arms, each holding a football. And then, in perfect synchronization, they let loose.
Footballs rained down on Baron Bigshot’s party like a sports equipment hailstorm. I watched, mouth agape, as chaos erupted.
Guests screamed and ducked, champagne flutes shattered, and Baron Bigshot himself stood in the middle of it all, looking like a man who’d just seen his worst nightmare come to life.
As quickly as it started, it was over. The football players high-fived each other and jogged away, leaving destruction in their wake.
I was still trying to process what I’d seen when there was a knock at my door. It was Mrs. Stewart, grinning like the cat that got the cream.
“Did you see that?” she asked, barely containing her glee.
I nodded, still stunned. “What… how…”
She winked. “Let’s just say my nephew’s football team owed me a favor. Thought our dear neighbor could use a taste of his own medicine.”
I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing, tears streaming down my face. “Mrs. Stewart, you’re a genius!”
She patted my arm. “Sometimes, dear, karma needs a little push.”
The next morning, I was enjoying my coffee when there was a furious pounding at my door. I opened it to find Baron Bigshot, looking decidedly less baronial in his rumpled pajamas.
“YOU!” he sputtered, pointing an accusing finger at me. “You did this!”
I took a sip of my coffee, savoring the moment. “Did what?”
“Don’t play dumb! The football attack! It ruined everything!”
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And do you have any proof it was me?”
He opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, clearly recognizing his own words being thrown back at him.
I leaned against the doorframe, feeling surprisingly calm. “You know, Mr. Worthington, sometimes life has a funny way of teaching us lessons. Maybe this is yours.”
His face turned an impressive shade of purple. “This isn’t over!”
As he stormed off, I called after him, “Oh, and Mr. Worthington? You might want to consider investing in some wooden planks for your windows. I hear they’re all the rage these days.”
I closed the door, grinning to myself. Penny looked up from her coloring book, curiosity shining in her eyes.
“Mommy, why was that man yelling?”
I scooped her up, planting a kiss on her forehead. “Oh, sweetie. He just learned a very important lesson about being a good neighbor.”
Well, folks, there you have it. Karma works in mysterious ways, doesn’t it? Sometimes it’s swift, sometimes it takes its sweet time, and sometimes it needs a little nudge from a well-meaning neighbor with connections to a high school football team!
So, tell me, have you ever had a neighbor from hell? A Baron Bigshot of your own? Drop your stories in the comments. After all, misery loves company, and nothing brings people together quite like tales of nightmare neighbors!
Mom was deeply emotional after her 3-year-old son lost his foot in a lawn mower accident, but he reassured her that everything would be okay.
After a lawnmower accident resulted in the amputation of his left foot, Keirsten Marsico’s little son Joey consoled her by telling her that everything will be alright.
“I was crying naturally when he came out of surgery that night, and he just held my head and said, ‘Mommy, what’s wrong?’” Marsico told PEOPLE his story. “I told him, buddy, I’m really sad.”
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Joey, who was only a few weeks away from turning four, was watching his grandfather Mark DeLuca mow the lawn outside their Whitehall, New York, home on Thursday, May 9, when he made a snap decision that put him in danger.
Keirsten talked about her “active little boy,” the youngest of her two children, saying that “he really loves tractors and enjoys helping with the lawn.” “He approached my dad, who was riding the lawnmower, from behind. My dad threw the mower in reverse before my mom could get to him, and everything happened all at once,” she remembered. “The events that led to what happened were a series of events.”
“It’s been tough on all of us, especially my parents who feel absolutely awful,” Keirsten continues. Specifically, my dad is distraught.
The family believes that Mark DeLuca’s quick use of a tourniquet probably saved Joey’s life. After being transported to Boston Children’s Hospital, Joey had many foot procedures before it was decided to amputate.
Despite the difficulties in his recuperation, Joey’s maturity and upbeat attitude have astounded his family and friends, as well as his caregivers and physicians.
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“What a strong little guy,” Keirsten says. At times, conversing with him is like to conversing with a teenager. He has excellent adjustment.
Joey’s father, Joseph, remarks, “He’s always been that way—very understanding, perceptive of people’s emotions, and adept at coping with situations.” Joseph is reflecting on his son’s exceptional maturity. In addition, he speaks a lot and has a vocabulary that is above average for his age.
The Marsicos, along with their autistic 6-year-old daughter Gianna, settled into a new routine during Joey’s almost month-long hospital stay.
“We tried to maintain a sense of normalcy for my daughter because she attends school,” Keirsten says. “My spouse and I decided that one of us should stay at home with her because she needs routine.”
Joseph stayed stubbornly by Joey’s side, while Keirsten stayed at home. “He’s still by Joey’s side,” Keirsten underlines.
Keirsten reflects on a touching incident by saying, “The other day, as I was leaving Joey, I was crying, and he consoled me again.” I told him it was okay and that I didn’t have to be sad as he wiped away my tears. “I know, but I don’t like leaving you,” I said to him.
The Marsicos take comfort in the knowledge that Joey’s accident was a terrible exception and in their Catholic faith.
“My worst fear is that people will hear this story and think, ‘Why weren’t they watching him?’ or ‘How could they let this happen?’” admits Keirsten, expressing her deepest concern. As his mother, I’ve struggled with it.
She does, however, take solace in her faith, thinking that Joey’s experiences have a greater meaning. “I have to constantly tell myself that everything is happening for a reason. Even if we can’t see it now, God has a plan for him, Keirsten says.
She says, “I would tell someone else it’s an accident if they were in our shoes.” “Accidents happen, and focusing on ‘why’ won’t help—it will only make you feel bad about yourself.”
Keirsten highlights how resilient their family has been in the face of hardship. “We must change and get over what is going on. Our priorities are helping Joey and continuing to be a solid family unit.
After being away from home for almost a month following the accident, Joey was released from the hospital on June 5. Earlier last week, he had his fourth birthday celebration.
His parents are hopeful that he will heal and that he will soon get a prosthetic fitted. They are in awe of Joey’s capacity to communicate his emotions and offer consolation to others during this trying time.
Warmly, Joseph says, “He’s always been such a special little boy.”
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