My Malicious Neighbors

Shirley's expression changed instantly, but she still acted arrogant.

"So what if the cops come? You still owe me that money!"

Not long afterward, both the police and property management staff arrived.

I grabbed one of the officers by the hand and cried dramatically.

"H-How am I supposed to live like this? You have to stand up for me."

If the ground hadn't been covered in human waste, I probably would've lain down and rolled around crying too.

The officers immediately noticed how old I was. Afraid I might get too emotional and faint on the spot, they kept patting my back and comforting me.

After hearing the full story and seeing no major property damage, they instructed Shirley to clean up the mess and apologize to me.

She refused immediately. "Why should I? She ruined our family's food supply. She should compensate us!"

The officers went into her apartment to inspect her food supply.

I followed behind them and was instantly hit by a foul stench.

Expired milk and moldy grains were scattered everywhere.

Her precious son sat on the couch while gnawing on a rotten apple.

Initially, I thought Shirley eating trash was some bizarre young-person trend just for show, but judging from the scene inside, they genuinely ate that stuff.

After seeing Shirley's so-called food supply, the officers gave me a look full of sympathy.

They continued trying to reason with her.

"These spoiled foods are dangerous to eat. Don't bring them home anymore, especially when you have a child in the house. As a parent, you should be more careful."

Before leaving, the officers repeatedly reminded us that neighbors should look out for one another and try to be understanding.

Whether I listened or not didn't matter. Shirley definitely didn't.

She merely put on a fake act of apology in front of them. The second they left, she immediately cursed at me.

"You old wretch. Just wait."

-

In the blink of an eye, the weekend arrived.

Suddenly, I heard violent banging on my door. The pounding was so loud that the entire building could probably hear it.

It startled me so badly I thought my heart condition was about to flare up.

I peered through the peephole. It was Shirley again. This time, she was holding her precious son in her arms.

She looked frantic.

I turned around, went to the kitchen, grabbed a gleaming knife, and finally opened the door.

The irritation on Shirley's face immediately eased a little when she noticed the knife in my hand.

She was still frowning.

"What took you so long? I'm about to be late!"

As she spoke, she pushed her son straight into my apartment.

The way she barked orders felt like some rich housewife giving instructions to a hired help.

"My precious baby is allergic to all meat and seafood. Don't let him eat even a little.

"He only drinks water at exactly 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit. One degree hotter or colder is unacceptable.

"Also, the indoor temperature has to stay at exactly 78.8 degrees Fahrenheit. Too hot and he'll get a heat stroke. Too cold and he'll get sick.

"You'd better take good care of him. If anything goes wrong, I'm holding you accountable!"

The second she finished speaking, she ran straight to the elevator lobby.

I adjusted my reading glasses speechlessly.

Just as I was about to call property management, Mike suddenly barged into my living room.

Without even taking off his filthy shoes, he leaped right onto my couch.

He was using it like a trampoline.

I felt a throbbing sensation in my head.

"Get down. Get out of my house!"

He jumped even harder.

While bouncing around, he deliberately kicked at the wall with his dirty shoes. That instantly left several black footprints across the beige-colored wall.

"You old hag, why should I leave?"

He shouted arrogantly, "My mom said this place is going to be my playroom from now on! I can do whatever I want here!"

The property management call had just connected on my phone, but I hung up immediately.

I changed my expression and smiled at him. "You want to play, don't you? I know the perfect place for you."