I was beyond exhausted—the kind of tired where you can’t even remember if you brushed your teeth or fed the dog. Ever since my twins were born, my days had been a blur of diaper changes, feedings, and sleepless nights. The last thing I needed was another issue, but when I walked outside that morning, I found my car completely covered in eggs.

At first, I thought it was just a Halloween prank—kids getting a little too excited. I sighed, too tired to even get upset, and grabbed a sponge to clean it up. But then, my neighbor Brad strolled over, proud of himself.

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“That was me,” he said smugly. “Your car was ruining the view of my Halloween decorations.”

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I was speechless. His decorations? Plastic skeletons, fake cobwebs, pumpkins—and he thought my car was ruining the view? Furious but too drained to argue, I just nodded, silently promising that I’d get back at him.

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Brad had no idea who he was messing with. As I washed the egg off my car, I realized that Brad’s pride in his haunted house was his weak spot. So, I pretended to make peace and suggested he upgrade his decorations—knowing full well the terrible products I recommended would fail.

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On Halloween night, everything went wrong for him. His fog machine sprayed water, his ghost projector malfunctioned, and one of his inflatables collapsed. The kids laughed, and even some teenagers joined in by egging his house.

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The next day, Brad came over to apologize. “I overreacted,” he admitted, finally understanding how hard it was for me with the twins. I accepted his apology, but not before reminding him how “funny” things turn out sometimes.