“You have to let him, sir. You have to arrest him.” Dorothy had lost it again. “He did this. I saw it.” And when I say lost it, I mean she had blasted through every boundary of sanity like she was speed-running chaos mode.
This woman had a talent for turning calm neighborhoods into battlegrounds, and ours had the privilege of being her kingdom. She strutted around acting like the HOA had signed over full ownership of everyone’s property, decisions, and soul. But even with her history of barking orders, inspecting lawns like a tax auditor, and treating adults like misbehaving toddlers, nothing prepared me for the disaster waiting for me after work that evening.
I pulled into my street exhausted, hoping to collapse on my couch, when my headlights landed on something so ridiculous my brain lagged. An enormous RV, long, bulky, and aggressively unattractive, was parked right across my driveway like it had been dropped from the sky specifically to ruin my night. At first, I honestly thought someone got lost and confused my house with a parking lot.
I stepped out, half-dazed, trying to process why an RV was blocking my property like it paid rent. That was when Queen Dorothy herself popped out of nowhere, chin lifted, arms crossed, acting like she was unveiling a masterpiece. She proudly announced she had just bought the RV, but refused to park it on her driveway because it interrupted her driveway aesthetics. So naturally, she made the executive decision to place it on mine.
I stood there, speechless, wondering if she expected applause or if she genuinely believed this nonsense made sense to anyone living on Earth. My body wanted to yell, argue, and maybe flip something over, but the exhaustion from work held everything back. I told her she was lucky I was drained, but that RV better disappear by morning. No excuses. Then I walked inside before my patience committed a crime.
The next morning, I walked outside expecting peace, sunlight, maybe birds chirping, anything normal. Instead, that same ugly RV sat there like it had gained confidence overnight. Its giant frame leaned into my driveway as if mocking me. I stood there staring at it, completely baffled that Dorothy actually thought she could get away with this nonsense.
So I pulled out my phone, called her, and asked if this was some sort of joke. She acted clueless, pretending she didn’t know why I was calling. I told her she was pulling my leg, trying to test how far she could push before I snapped. I warned her clearly not to tempt me because the outcome wouldn’t favor her.
But Dorothy, being Dorothy, didn’t even hesitate to escalate. She responded with a threat so bold I almost laughed. She said if I laid a single finger on her beloved vehicle, she would make sure I regretted ever moving into the neighborhood. That did it. Something in me switched off. I hung up mid-sentence before she could drag me into another pointless argument, and she probably assumed I gave up. She had no idea I was already planning her problem’s removal.