This Is How I Won a Prank War My Neighbor and I Had Going for the past Year
It started off innocently enough. Selene parked her car in the wrong parking spot, fueling a prank war with Paul, the real owner of the parking spot. As the months went by, the pair continued their prank war, but Selen started to wonder about the future of these seemingly innocent practical jokes. She took matters into her own hands and asked Paul out for dinner, under the guise of someone else. Will it be the ultimate prank or something more?
It all began with a parking mishap. It was just one innocent mistake that spiraled into a year-long prank war with my neighbor, Paul.
An apartment building parking lot | Source: Unsplash
One evening, I accidentally parked in Paul’s parking spot in our apartment building’s lot. It was late, I was exhausted, and I just wanted to crawl into bed.
I didn’t think much of it until the next morning when I was on my way to the office. There, on my car, on an empty takeaway cup, a note was scrawled in messy handwriting.
A woman sleeping in bed | Source: Pexels
Thanks for ruining my day.
“Oh, crap,” I said to myself when I sat in the car. I needed to make amends.
A woman sitting in a car | Source: Pexels
The following morning, I left a warm cup of coffee on Paul’s car roof with a note that read:
Sorry for the mix-up. I hope this makes up for it.
A person holding a cup of coffee | Source: Pexels
If you’re wondering, Paul and I didn’t know each other. We just lived in the same apartment block and knew everyone’s names and door numbers.
A few days later, I found a bill from a car-washing service under my windshield wiper. It seemed that Paul didn’t notice the coffee that I left and spilled it all over his car when he drove off.
A car in a car wash | Source: Pexels
I refused to pay the bill, and thus, the little war began.
“I think that you and this mysterious Paul are either going to fall in love or end up despising each other,” my friend Daphne said at work.
A smiling woman holding a folder | Source: Pexels
“Probably the latter,” I said. “It was all fine until he gave me a bill.”
“Selene,” she said knowingly, “I’m telling you, this is just the beginning.”
The next day, I left my work phone number on his car.
Call me regarding the payment.
A piece of paper on a car | Source: Midjourney
Paul called me later that evening.
“Really? You thought that leaving coffee on the roof of a car was a good idea?” he asked, going straight into it.
“How was I supposed to know that you’d drive off without looking? Besides, it was a peace offering!”
A man using a phone | Source: Unsplash
“More like a disaster,” he said. “It was all over my window. Pay the car wash bill, please.”
“I’m not paying for it,” I said, hanging up.
After that, the pranks escalated quickly.
Spilled coffee in the air | Source: Pexels
“I told you,” Daphne said when she came home with me one evening. “It’s going to get more intense. You need to listen to me. Trust me on this, you and this guy are going to get under each other’s skin.”
“I don’t know about that, Daph,” I said, dishing out the curry we had bought for dinner.
Bowls of curry and rice | Source: Unsplash
“But you’re having fun?” she asked, tearing into a piece of bread.
“I am!” I said. “Mainly because it’s nothing serious.”
Flatbread on a board | Source: Pexels
One day, I found my car doors wrapped in plastic wrap.
The next week, I retaliated by covering Paul’s car in sticky notes, each one asking him to fix his parking.
A person tearing through plastic wrap | Source: Pexels
“If it rains tonight,” Paul said, immediately calling me after seeing the sticky notes, “you’ll have a mushy mess of paper to clean up.”
“I think you’ll figure it out for yourself,” I said, hiding behind my curtain.
A car covered in sticky notes | Source: Midjourney
I had to admit, I was attracted to him. I didn’t know if Paul knew who I was, but it was easier for me to watch him from my apartment. I had gotten used to watching him wash his car.
It turned out that it was comforting. There was a sense of intimacy that we had built up.
A person hiding behind blinds | Source: Unsplash
After months of back-and-forth pranks, ranging from balloons tied onto car handles and window wipers, to fake parking tickets, I decided that it was time to end the war.
“But you need a grand finale,” Daphne said as we sat in our office, trying to work through month-end reports.
A woman using a laptop | Source: Pexels
“Like what?” I asked, typing away at my keyboard.
“You’re into him, right?” she asked, sipping her coffee.
“I think so,” I said. “But I don’t know much about him.”
A woman drinking coffee | Source: Pexels
“Then get to know him,” my friend pressed on. “There’s something there; if not, this would have ended a long time ago.”
“Fine,” I said. “But you write the note. He knows my handwriting now.”
We intended to write a note from a secret admirer.
A person writing a note | Source: Pexels
“She can just be someone from your apartment,” Daphne said. “And it’s not like you and Paul have even interacted in person, Selene. To be honest, I don’t know how you’ve managed to stay anonymous for so long.”
“It’s the thrill of it,” I said.
A smiling woman | Source: Unsplash
Early the next morning, I left the note that Daphne had written on Paul’s car.
Hey, I saw you leaving your car and couldn’t help but notice how handsome you are. Let’s have dinner?
I added my personal number that he wouldn’t recognize at the bottom.
A folded piece of paper | Source: Midjourney
To my surprise, Paul called me later that morning.
“Selene, you’ll never guess what happened!” he said excitedly. “Some woman left me a note on my car.”
“Really?” I asked, feigning surprise. “What did it say?”
A woman on the phone | Source: Pexels
“She said that I was handsome and she wanted to have dinner. She left her number, too. So, I’m going to text her and go.”
Paul took the bait and texted me. We set up a date, and I, still pretending to be someone else, agreed to meet him at a local restaurant.
A table at a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
I was already seated, suddenly nervous. We had been at this for so long; what if everything blew up in my face?
What if I was living in a romantic comedy and Paul actually couldn’t stand me?
Almost ready to leave, Paul walked into the restaurant.
A man in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
“Hey, you’re here! You look familiar,” he said. “But I suppose I have seen you around the building.”
He spoke quickly, as though he was just as nervous.
“I’m sure that’s exactly it,” I said, smiling.
A smiling man | Source: Pexels
“Your voice reminds me of my neighbor, Selene. I’m sure you’ve seen us pranking each other recently,” he chuckled, his eyes glazing over as if lost in a memory.
“What’s that been like?” I asked.
A smiling woman at a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
“Well, Daphne,” he said, as I had introduced myself over text, “it’s been hilarious. It’s been the best few months of my life.”
“It sounds like she’s grown on you,” I said, smiling.
“She’s feisty, all right,” he said, ordering himself a whiskey.
A man holding a glass of whiskey | Source: Pexels
The rest of the evening went by smoothly, but the more Paul spoke, the more I found myself genuinely enjoying his company. He was charming, funny, and surprisingly sweet.
By the time our meals arrived, I couldn’t keep the truth from him any longer.
Plates of food at a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
“Paul,” I said, picking up my cocktail, “there’s something I need to tell you.”
“What’s that?” he asked, looking me in the eye.
“I haven’t been very honest about this date,” I said slowly. “I’m Selene.”
A cocktail on a table | Source: Pexels
Paul’s jaw dropped.
“Wait, really?” he asked. “Why did you want to meet like this?”
“I don’t know,” I replied honestly. “Call it insecurity? Daphne is my best friend; I asked her to write the note, and I used her name. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have deceived you.”
A shocked man | Source: Pexels
“No, no,” he said, a large smile forming on his face. “I’ve never had this much fun with anyone. I’m glad we got to meet. Finally.”
The rest of the evening went much smoother, knowing that we had something in common. It was something to bond over. And more than that, there was chemistry between us. It wasn’t just me.
“I’m glad we did this,” Paul said as we went our separate ways in the parking lot. “It needed to happen.”
An empty parking lot | Source: Pexels
“And now, we’re here,” I said, taking his hand, suddenly feeling brave.
I don’t know where our relationship will go or what it will become, but I do know that I’ve taken the first step toward something.
What would you have done?
A couple holding hands | Source: Pexels
My Husband Invited His Entire Office to Our Thanksgiving Without Telling Me – My Revenge Was Delicious
When Zoe’s husband invites 15 coworkers to Thanksgiving — without warning — her cozy holiday turns chaotic. With a smile sharper than her carving knife, she channels her fury into orchestrating a feast they’ll never forget. Can she pull it off while teaching her husband a lesson he won’t live down?
Thanksgiving morning came in like a hurricane. My coffee had gone cold on the counter while I darted between rescuing the living room walls from Emma’s artistic endeavors and intercepting Jake, who’d somehow scaled the counter to get his tiny hands on a plate of cookies.
A boy reaching for a cookie | Source: Midjourney
“Emma, honey, we color on paper, not the walls,” I said, peeling the crayon from her sticky fingers.
She looked up at me with a grin both innocent and maddening.
“Jake!” I called, snatching the plate just as he made off with another cookie. He gave me a gummy smile, crumbs tumbling down his chin like tiny confessions.
A boy holding a cookie | Source: Midjourney
I sighed and scooped him off the counter, setting him on the floor with a toy spatula as a peace offering.
The turkey was in the oven, the table half-set, and the mashed potatoes — well, they were still more like potato chunks, but I was determined.
Hosting Thanksgiving was my Everest every year. Sure, it was stressful, but there was something deeply satisfying about pulling it off, even if my in-laws did nothing but offer critiques disguised as helpful suggestions.
A woman cooking | Source: Midjourney
I’d barely taken a breath when the front door slammed open. Dan’s voice boomed through the chaos.
“We’re here!”
We?
I turned, still holding a bowl of partly mashed potatoes, to see Dan standing in the entryway. He was beaming, the kind of grin he wore when he’d made a decision he thought was brilliant but was about to wreck my day.
A man standing in a doorway | Source: Midjourney
Behind him, a parade of unfamiliar faces streamed in, each looking ready for a party. Some held bottles of wine or bags of snacks, while others glanced around uncertainly, clearly sensing that their arrival wasn’t as warmly anticipated as Dan had promised.
“Dan,” I said slowly, my voice edged with warning, “who’s ‘we’?”
He didn’t notice the tension in my tone, and even worse, chose to ignore it. His grin widened, oblivious to the rising storm.
A smiling man | Source: Midjourney
“I invited a few coworkers,” he said casually as if this were something we’d discussed in detail and agreed upon over breakfast. “They didn’t have anywhere to go for Thanksgiving. Isn’t that what the holidays are all about?”
I stared at him, the words not quite connecting in my brain. Did he seriously just say a few coworkers? My grip tightened around the bowl of potatoes, the ridges of its edge digging into my palms.
“A few?” I managed, my voice climbing a little higher with each word.
A shocked woman holding a bowl | Source: Midjourney
“Fifteen,” he replied, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. He was still grinning, proud of his altruistic brilliance. “But it’s no big deal! Just make a couple more portions. You’re great at this stuff.”
I blinked, the number reverberating in my skull. Fifteen. Fifteen unexpected, unplanned, utterly uninvited people standing in my house on Thanksgiving, the day I dreaded each year for its precise balancing act of chaos and tradition.
For a moment, I was too stunned to do anything but picture my bowl of potatoes sailing through the air toward Dan’s head.
A bowl of potatoes flying through the air | Source: DALL-E
The fantasy was short-lived but oh-so-satisfying. I could almost hear the splat as the potatoes scattered like confetti.
But alas, I was not the kind of woman who hurled produce. At least, not yet.
Instead, I took a deep breath, the kind that makes your chest feel too tight but stops you from screaming. Plastering on a smile that felt more like barbed wire than warmth, I pivoted toward the living room, where Dan’s coworkers were now awkwardly congregating near the couch.
People standing in a living room | Source: Midjourney
Emma was circling their legs like a determined little tornado, holding up her latest crayon masterpiece, while Jake toddled around with a triumphant fistful of crackers he’d scavenged from God knows where.
“Welcome, everyone!” I called, clapping my hands together so loudly it startled one poor guy into dropping his snack bag. “So glad you could join us! Since this was a little… unexpected,” I said, letting the pause hang heavily in the air, “I’ll need some help to make it all come together.”
Dan’s grin faltered. That alone was enough to give me a spark of satisfaction.
A man standing in a living room | Source: Midjourney
“Uh, I thought you had everything under control—”
“Oh, I do,” I said sweetly, my voice dripping with the kind of sugary determination that made my children instinctively behave. “But you can take the kids upstairs so I can focus down here.”
He opened his mouth to argue, the flicker of panic crossing his face suggesting he realized too late that he had underestimated the situation.
I gave him a pointed look. He closed his mouth and glanced around the room for an ally. None of his coworkers made eye contact. They all suddenly seemed deeply interested in the patterns on my living room rug. Smart move.
People standing in a living room | Source: Midjourney
With Dan momentarily neutralized, I turned back to the crowd, my smile now dialed up to full-on mom-general mode.
“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. Jim,” — I decided the man fumbling with the dropped snack looked like a Jim — “can you continue mashing these potatoes? And you, Sarah, right? Great. Sarah, could you help set the table?”
They hesitated, unsure whether this was part of some elaborate Thanksgiving tradition or just my thinly veiled way of punishing them.
People exchanging awkward glances | Source: Midjourney
“The kitchen is just through here, follow me,” I added, turning to lead the way.
Soon, everyone was busy with their assignments like recruits who knew better than to question their drill sergeant.
Dan returned after about ten minutes, now wearing a paper turkey glued to his shirt, courtesy of Emma’s relentless crafting enthusiasm. Jake trailed after him with a smug look, holding a juice box I was certain he hadn’t asked for.
A boy holding a juice box | Source: Midjourney
Dan surveyed the scene, his mouth opening in what was likely another attempt at commentary, but I shut it down with a simple glance. My impromptu army was working, and no way was he going to derail it now.
The sound of the potato peeler scraping against tubers joined the clinking of plates and the occasional giggle of guests trying to navigate their tasks.
It was chaos, yes, but it was my chaos.
A confident woman | Source: Midjourney
It wasn’t all smooth sailing. Someone spilled cranberry sauce on my rug, and another coworker accidentally doubled the sugar in the sweet potatoes. But somehow, by sheer force of will (and a little wine), the chaos began to look like progress.
Dinner came together like a miracle. The table groaned under the weight of turkey, stuffing, and all the trimmings, each dish looking more impressive than the last.
I took my seat at the head of the table, raising my glass with a triumphant smile.
A woman making a toast | Source: Midjourney
“Thank you all for coming on such short notice,” I began, my tone warm but pointed. “This wouldn’t have been possible without your help — literally. I hope you enjoyed seeing what Thanksgiving prep looks like in this house. Isn’t teamwork amazing?”
Dan’s boss chuckled. “Dan, you didn’t tell us we’d be working on our day off!”
The table erupted in laughter. Dan gave a sheepish smile, sinking lower into his chair. I allowed myself a moment of smug satisfaction.
A sheepish man at a dinner table | Source: Midjourney
After dessert, I stood, clapping my hands once more. “Alright, everyone, let’s tackle the clean-up together! Dan, why don’t you lead the dishwashing crew? You’re so good at organizing.”
Dan’s coworkers didn’t even blink. They rose, collecting plates and stacking bowls as if it were second nature.
I watched from the doorway as Dan scrubbed dishes, a streak of whipped cream on his cheek and an expression of utter defeat on his face.
A man washing dishes | Source: Midjourney
Jake toddled over, tugging at his pant leg, and Dan crouched down, his voice soft but tired.
“I’m sorry, buddy. Mommy’s the boss, isn’t she?”
You bet your glued-on turkey she is, I thought, smirking as I headed back to the dining room.
Later that night, as the house finally quieted and the kids snored softly in their beds, Dan found me on the couch. He sat down beside me, handing me a mug of tea.
A woman holding a mug of tea | Source: Pexels
“Zoe,” he began, running a hand through his hair, “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about how much work goes into this. I shouldn’t have surprised you like that.”
I let the silence stretch just long enough for him to squirm. “No, you shouldn’t have,” I said, though my tone was more teasing than angry now.
He gave me a small smile. “You were amazing today.”
I sipped my tea, leaning back onto the couch with a satisfied sigh.
A woman relaxing | Source: Midjourney
“Just remember this next time you think about inviting an entire office to Thanksgiving.”
“Next time?” He looked horrified, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Let’s hope there’s no next time,” I said, resting my head on his shoulder.
Thanksgiving was a rollercoaster, but at least it was our rollercoaster, and I was firmly in the driver’s seat.
A confident woman | Source: Midjourney
Here’s another story: My MIL Gloria crossed a line when she strutted into Thanksgiving with a turkey bearing a photo of my face. Her humiliating “joke” in front of the family was the last straw. But little did Gloria know, I had a plan to turn her stunt into the talk of the town — for all the wrong reasons.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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