My House’s Previous Owner Left Me a Warning Note about Our Neighbors – I Couldn’t Believe It until One Day

When we moved into our new house a year ago, everything seemed perfect. The neighborhood was quiet, the house beautiful, and we were eager to settle in. Our neighbors, the Johnsons, appeared friendly too, welcoming us with a pie and warm smiles.

“Welcome to the neighborhood!” Jane beamed, holding out a steaming apple pie. Her husband, Tom, stood behind her, grinning.

“Thanks so much,” I said, taking the pie. “I’m Emma, and this is my husband Mike.”

Over the next few months, we got to know the Johnsons well. We had barbecues, swam in our pool, and enjoyed each other’s company. Their somewhat run-down house didn’t bother us; they were good neighbors, or so we thought.

Three months later, while cleaning out a kitchen drawer, I stumbled upon a note from the previous owner. It read: “Beware of the Johnsons. They’ll make your life hell. Don’t put them too close.”

I showed it to Mike that evening. “What do you think?” I asked.

He frowned. “Seems dramatic. They’ve been nice to us.”

I agreed, but unease nagged at me. We decided to ignore it, convinced it was just an old grudge. After all, we enjoyed our time with the Johnsons, sharing recipes and inviting them over whenever we could.

Fast forward to last week. Mike and I returned from vacation to chaos. Our garden was trampled, the pool was filthy with debris, and garbage littered our driveway.

“What the heck happened here?” Mike exclaimed, his face flushed with anger.

“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out,” I said, determination setting in.

We marched over to the Johnsons’ house. Jane answered the door with an overly cheerful smile.

“How was your trip?” she chirped.

“What happened to our property?” Mike demanded.

Tom stepped out, wearing a mask of innocence. “That wasn’t us. You can’t prove anything,” he snapped.

I raised an eyebrow. “Why would we accuse you? Do you know who did this?”

Jane’s eyes darted nervously. “Oh, maybe it was the neighbors across the road? Ethan and his girlfriend—they’re a weird couple.”

“Right,” I said, skeptical. We decided to investigate further.

When we reached Ethan’s house, he looked confused by our aggressive approach. “What? No way! We’ve barely left the house; we’ve been renovating.”

Olivia, his girlfriend, stepped forward. “Actually, we installed security cameras last week. They cover part of your property too.”

“Really?” Mike perked up. “Can we see?”

They welcomed us inside, and we watched the footage in disbelief. The Johnsons had thrown parties at our house while we were away. Guests trampled our garden and treated our property like a playground.

“I can’t believe this,” I muttered, watching Jane’s kid spray-paint our fence while she laughed.

Mike clenched his fists. “Those lying—”

“I’m so sorry,” Ethan said. “We had no idea.”

Fury bubbled up as we headed back to the Johnsons’ house. This time, we didn’t knock.

“Hey, Tom! Let’s talk about the trash on our property!” I called.

Tom opened the door, looking unbothered. “You’re blowing this out of proportion. It’s just some trash and a bit of paint. Kids will be kids, right?”

“Just some trash?” Mike exploded. “Our pool is filthy, our garden is destroyed!”

“And you threw parties at our house without asking!” I added. “We have the security footage.”

Jane’s face paled. “What footage?”

“Ethan and Olivia’s cameras caught everything,” I explained, enjoying their panic.

Their smugness melted away, replaced by shame. It was time for some payback.

That night, after the Johnsons went to bed, Mike and I executed our plan. We gathered all the garbage from our yard, plus a few extra “presents” from our own trash.

At midnight, we crept over to their yard. “Ready?” I whispered to Mike.

He grinned mischievously. “Let’s do this.”

We spread the trash all over their lawn and garden, then let our kids paint whatever they wanted on the Johnsons’ fence.

The next morning, we watched with glee as Jane’s scream of disgust echoed through the neighborhood.

“Tom! Look at this!” she shrieked.

Tom stumbled out, jaw dropped. “What is this?”

We strolled over, coffee mugs in hand. “Everything okay?” I asked innocently.

“Did you do this?” Jane demanded, anger radiating from her.

I shrugged. “You’re blowing this out of proportion. It’s just some trash and a bit of paint.”

Mike chimed in, “Kids will be kids, right?”

Their faces were priceless as realization dawned.

“This is unacceptable!” Tom blustered. “We’ll report you to the homeowners’ association!”

“Go ahead,” I smiled sweetly. “I’m sure they’d love to see the footage of you vandalizing our property too.”

Jane looked stricken. “Why would you do this?”

“Why would we do this?” Mike echoed incredulously. “You trashed our house!”

As word spread through the neighborhood, other neighbors expressed disbelief at the Johnsons’ actions. When Jane tried to complain, we showed them the footage, and their support for us was palpable.

Within days, the neighborhood turned against the Johnsons. They had no choice but to clean up their mess and rethink their ways.

Watching them pick up trash from their lawn, I thought about that warning note. Sometimes, you need to stand up for yourself and teach people a lesson in respect.

“You know,” Mike said, wrapping an arm around me, “I’m glad we found that note, even if it was a little late.”

“Me too,” I nodded. “Next time, we’ll listen to warnings like that sooner.”

As we turned to go back inside, I spotted Ethan and Olivia walking down the street. They waved, and we waved back.

“I think we found some real friends in this neighborhood after all,” I said, smiling at Mike.