My neighbor pelted my car with eggs because he claimed it obstructed the view of his Halloween decorations

I was bone-tired, the kind of tired where you can barely remember if you’ve brushed your teeth or fed the dog.

My days had become a blur since the twins were born.

Don’t get me wrong, Lily and Lucas were my adorable darlings, but wrangling two newborns mostly by myself was a Herculean task. I hadn’t slept a full night in months. Halloween was just around the corner and the neighborhood buzzed with excitement, but not me.

I could hardly muster the energy to decorate, let alone keep up with the suburban festivities.

Then there was Brad.

The man took Halloween so seriously that you’d think his life depended on it. Every year, he turned his house into a haunted carnival complete with gravestones, dioramas of skeletons, huge jack-o’-lanterns, the works.

And the smug look on his face every time someone complimented him? Please.

His spectacle enamored the entire block. But me? I was too busy trying to keep my eyes open to care about Brad’s ridiculous haunted house.

It was a typical October morning when everything started to unravel.

I shuffled outside with Lily on one hip and Lucas cradled in my arm. I blinked at the sight before me. Somebody had egged my car! Broken bits of shell were stuck in the semi-congealed goo, which was dripping down the windshield like some twisted breakfast special.

“Are you kidding me?” I muttered, staring at the mess.

I had parked in front of Brad’s house the night before. It’s not like I had much choice. The twins’ stroller was impossible to push all the way from down the street, so I’d parked close to our door.

At first, I thought it had to be a prank. But when I noticed the egg splatters reached all the way to Brad’s front porch, my suspicion turned into certainty.

This had Brad written all over it.