This Is How I Won a Prank War My Neighbor and I Had Going for the past Year

his Is How I Won a Prank War My Neighbor and I Had Going for the past Year

It started off innocently enough. Selene parked her car in the wrong parking spot, fueling a prank war with Paul, the real owner of the parking spot. As the months went by, the pair continued their prank war, but Selen started to wonder about the future of these seemingly innocent practical jokes. She took matters into her own hands and asked Paul out for dinner, under the guise of someone else. Will it be the ultimate prank or something more?

It all began with a parking mishap. It was just one innocent mistake that spiraled into a year-long prank war with my neighbor, Paul.

An apartment building parking lot | Source: Unsplash

An apartment building parking lot | Source: Unsplash

One evening, I accidentally parked in Paul’s parking spot in our apartment building’s lot. It was late, I was exhausted, and I just wanted to crawl into bed.

I didn’t think much of it until the next morning when I was on my way to the office. There, on my car, on an empty takeaway cup, a note was scrawled in messy handwriting.

A woman sleeping in bed | Source: Pexels

A woman sleeping in bed | Source: Pexels

Thanks for ruining my day.

“Oh, crap,” I said to myself when I sat in the car. I needed to make amends.

A woman sitting in a car | Source: Pexels

A woman sitting in a car | Source: Pexels

The following morning, I left a warm cup of coffee on Paul’s car roof with a note that read:

Sorry for the mix-up. I hope this makes up for it.

A person holding a cup of coffee | Source: Pexels

A person holding a cup of coffee | Source: Pexels

If you’re wondering, Paul and I didn’t know each other. We just lived in the same apartment block and knew everyone’s names and door numbers.

A few days later, I found a bill from a car-washing service under my windshield wiper. It seemed that Paul didn’t notice the coffee that I left and spilled it all over his car when he drove off.

A car in a car wash | Source: Pexels

A car in a car wash | Source: Pexels

I refused to pay the bill, and thus, the little war began.

“I think that you and this mysterious Paul are either going to fall in love or end up despising each other,” my friend Daphne said at work.

A smiling woman holding a folder | Source: Pexels

A smiling woman holding a folder | Source: Pexels

“Probably the latter,” I said. “It was all fine until he gave me a bill.”

“Selene,” she said knowingly, “I’m telling you, this is just the beginning.”

The next day, I left my work phone number on his car.

Call me regarding the payment.

A piece of paper on a car | Source: Midjourney

A piece of paper on a car | Source: Midjourney

Paul called me later that evening.

“Really? You thought that leaving coffee on the roof of a car was a good idea?” he asked, going straight into it.

“How was I supposed to know that you’d drive off without looking? Besides, it was a peace offering!”

A man using a phone | Source: Unsplash

A man using a phone | Source: Unsplash

“More like a disaster,” he said. “It was all over my window. Pay the car wash bill, please.”

“I’m not paying for it,” I said, hanging up.

After that, the pranks escalated quickly.

Spilled coffee in the air | Source: Pexels

Spilled coffee in the air | Source: Pexels

“I told you,” Daphne said when she came home with me one evening. “It’s going to get more intense. You need to listen to me. Trust me on this, you and this guy are going to get under each other’s skin.”

“I don’t know about that, Daph,” I said, dishing out the curry we had bought for dinner.

Bowls of curry and rice | Source: Unsplash

Bowls of curry and rice | Source: Unsplash

“But you’re having fun?” she asked, tearing into a piece of bread.

“I am!” I said. “Mainly because it’s nothing serious.”

Flatbread on a board | Source: Pexels

Flatbread on a board | Source: Pexels

One day, I found my car doors wrapped in plastic wrap.

The next week, I retaliated by covering Paul’s car in sticky notes, each one asking him to fix his parking.

A person tearing through plastic wrap | Source: Pexels

A person tearing through plastic wrap | Source: Pexels

“If it rains tonight,” Paul said, immediately calling me after seeing the sticky notes, “you’ll have a mushy mess of paper to clean up.”

“I think you’ll figure it out for yourself,” I said, hiding behind my curtain.

A car covered in sticky notes | Source: Midjourney

A car covered in sticky notes | Source: Midjourney

I had to admit, I was attracted to him. I didn’t know if Paul knew who I was, but it was easier for me to watch him from my apartment. I had gotten used to watching him wash his car.

It turned out that it was comforting. There was a sense of intimacy that we had built up.

A person hiding behind blinds | Source: Unsplash

A person hiding behind blinds | Source: Unsplash

After months of back-and-forth pranks, ranging from balloons tied onto car handles and window wipers, to fake parking tickets, I decided that it was time to end the war.

“But you need a grand finale,” Daphne said as we sat in our office, trying to work through month-end reports.

A woman using a laptop | Source: Pexels

A woman using a laptop | Source: Pexels

“Like what?” I asked, typing away at my keyboard.

“You’re into him, right?” she asked, sipping her coffee.

“I think so,” I said. “But I don’t know much about him.”

A woman drinking coffee | Source: Pexels

A woman drinking coffee | Source: Pexels

“Then get to know him,” my friend pressed on. “There’s something there; if not, this would have ended a long time ago.”

“Fine,” I said. “But you write the note. He knows my handwriting now.”

We intended to write a note from a secret admirer.

A person writing a note | Source: Pexels

A person writing a note | Source: Pexels

“She can just be someone from your apartment,” Daphne said. “And it’s not like you and Paul have even interacted in person, Selene. To be honest, I don’t know how you’ve managed to stay anonymous for so long.”

“It’s the thrill of it,” I said.

A smiling woman | Source: Unsplash

A smiling woman | Source: Unsplash

Early the next morning, I left the note that Daphne had written on Paul’s car.

Hey, I saw you leaving your car and couldn’t help but notice how handsome you are. Let’s have dinner?

I added my personal number that he wouldn’t recognize at the bottom.

A folded piece of paper | Source: Midjourney

A folded piece of paper | Source: Midjourney

To my surprise, Paul called me later that morning.

“Selene, you’ll never guess what happened!” he said excitedly. “Some woman left me a note on my car.”

“Really?” I asked, feigning surprise. “What did it say?”

A woman on the phone | Source: Pexels

A woman on the phone | Source: Pexels

“She said that I was handsome and she wanted to have dinner. She left her number, too. So, I’m going to text her and go.”

Paul took the bait and texted me. We set up a date, and I, still pretending to be someone else, agreed to meet him at a local restaurant.

A table at a restaurant | Source: Midjourney

A table at a restaurant | Source: Midjourney

I was already seated, suddenly nervous. We had been at this for so long; what if everything blew up in my face?

What if I was living in a romantic comedy and Paul actually couldn’t stand me?

Almost ready to leave, Paul walked into the restaurant.

A man in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney

A man in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney

“Hey, you’re here! You look familiar,” he said. “But I suppose I have seen you around the building.”

He spoke quickly, as though he was just as nervous.

“I’m sure that’s exactly it,” I said, smiling.

A smiling man | Source: Pexels

A smiling man | Source: Pexels

“Your voice reminds me of my neighbor, Selene. I’m sure you’ve seen us pranking each other recently,” he chuckled, his eyes glazing over as if lost in a memory.

“What’s that been like?” I asked.

A smiling woman at a restaurant | Source: Midjourney

A smiling woman at a restaurant | Source: Midjourney

“Well, Daphne,” he said, as I had introduced myself over text, “it’s been hilarious. It’s been the best few months of my life.”

“It sounds like she’s grown on you,” I said, smiling.

“She’s feisty, all right,” he said, ordering himself a whiskey.

A man holding a glass of whiskey | Source: Pexels

A man holding a glass of whiskey | Source: Pexels

The rest of the evening went by smoothly, but the more Paul spoke, the more I found myself genuinely enjoying his company. He was charming, funny, and surprisingly sweet.

By the time our meals arrived, I couldn’t keep the truth from him any longer.

Plates of food at a restaurant | Source: Midjourney

Plates of food at a restaurant | Source: Midjourney

“Paul,” I said, picking up my cocktail, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

“What’s that?” he asked, looking me in the eye.

“I haven’t been very honest about this date,” I said slowly. “I’m Selene.”

A cocktail on a table | Source: Pexels

A cocktail on a table | Source: Pexels

Paul’s jaw dropped.

“Wait, really?” he asked. “Why did you want to meet like this?”

“I don’t know,” I replied honestly. “Call it insecurity? Daphne is my best friend; I asked her to write the note, and I used her name. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have deceived you.”

A shocked man | Source: Pexels

A shocked man | Source: Pexels

“No, no,” he said, a large smile forming on his face. “I’ve never had this much fun with anyone. I’m glad we got to meet. Finally.”

The rest of the evening went much smoother, knowing that we had something in common. It was something to bond over. And more than that, there was chemistry between us. It wasn’t just me.

“I’m glad we did this,” Paul said as we went our separate ways in the parking lot. “It needed to happen.”

An empty parking lot | Source: Pexels

An empty parking lot | Source: Pexels

“And now, we’re here,” I said, taking his hand, suddenly feeling brave.

I don’t know where our relationship will go or what it will become, but I do know that I’ve taken the first step toward something.

What would you have done?

A couple holding hands | Source: Pexels

A couple holding hands | Source: Pexels

Following his purchase of a dinner for over $600 I blocked him but it turned out he was trying to warn me

Penelope’s evening seems to be getting more complicated by the minute, but then a simple dinner with David turns into a journey of shocking discoveries that challenge everything she has ever believed to be true about her family and herself. A dinner party that seemed to be going well suddenly becomes a platform for startling revelations that could change her life forever.Have you ever gone on an awful date? Indeed, I concur. This one started off really well, but let’s just say the conclusion went in a direction I wasn’t expecting. So it all began one seemingly ordinary day in the public library.

I got to know David in this way. With his teacherly charm, he started a conversation by asking me about my favorite literature. Before I knew it, we were deep in discussion on everything from classic literature to modern science fiction. It was nice to meet someone who could follow my meandering thoughts.

During our talk, David unexpectedly invited me out—not for a date, but for dinner. “Which restaurant is your favorite?” he said. I remember giggling softly, taken aback by his openness.

I responded, “My favorite place is a bit much for a first date,” but I eventually told him about it. I reserve this lovely spot for indulging in self-indulgence or celebrating personal successes. After all, you don’t typically spend $600 on dinner.

However, I wanted our first meeting to be casual, so I suggested a trendy Mexican eatery that was roughly halfway between us. I winked and added, “They have over 300 tequilas and tacos with handmade tortillas that are to die for.” It’s also quite reasonably priced.

David listened intently, but he was certain about choosing the spot. I appreciated his initiative as much as I wanted those amazing tacos. Compromise is necessary in big cities with awful traffic, especially if you live on opposite sides of the spectrum.

Now allow me to discuss my favorite restaurant. It’s this incredible location where James Beard award-winning mixologists deliver bite-sized pieces of heaven with their concoctions. Every now and then I go there just to enjoy a drink and take in the lavish setting.

David hesitated for a moment, then suddenly insisted on going to my favorite fancy restaurant. After all, who was I to argue? It is, after all, my favorite place. Thus, we departed.

The start of the evening was quite pleasant. We got the delectable little morsels I mentioned before as appetizers, and the cocktails continued to be intriguing.

Dinner was brought, dish after exquisite dish, and there was much joshing and animated conversation. We even had dessert, which is unusual for me unless it’s a really special occasion. We were clearly having a fantastic time, in my opinion.

But how did the evening unfold, my dear? After paying the significant amount, which was obviously more than $600, something unexpected happened.

My card slipped out of my bag and landed on the table out of habit. Things started to go weird after David took up the cause. Rather of simply handing it back, he examined it closely.

Then he did something that made my stomach turn to gravel: he examined every detail and stated, “You should be careful with this,” before putting the card down.

Upon further reflection, it’s possible that he had bad intentions. But it felt like a major invasion of my privacy at the time. Why did he have to be so indifferent to my card? Is there any way he could have given it back without saying something like that?

I quickly called it a night, feeling both humiliated and furious. I thanked him, if a little stiffly, got into a cab, and as soon as I arrived home, I blocked him. Nothing, not even a text or call.

I spoke with a friend about it today, and they said maybe I had been too hard on David. They said that I could have just asked him about it and that there might have been a good reason for him to look at my card.

But all I could think about at the moment was how he had ruined the whole evening and my mood. And so, while I was still thinking about the awful dinner, life decided to throw me another curveball.

Two days after I had pushed the block button on David, here he was, standing outside my house. You did hear that, that’s true. He seemed apologetic and uncomfortable, like he had something important to say.

When he murmured, “Penelope, I’m so sorry,” I could see he meant it by the look in his eyes. “I needed to make sure it was really you, Penelope Smith.”

I listened, confused as I was at this point, as he took a big breath and revealed something startling that would change my life forever. “I’m your half-brother,” was his reply, barely discernible above a whisper.

I tried to process what he had said while I blinked. How could David, the guy I recently turned down for the library date, be my half-brother? He said that the man I had always considered to be my father was not the one I was born with. Instead, it was his father who cheated on my mother. It sounded like something out of a soap opera.

The days that followed went very swiftly. We decided to have DNA testing done because this was a substantial enough claim to not rely solely on faith. The world did indeed have one more surprise in store for me when the results were in: we were, in fact, half-siblings.

My emotions were all over the place as I stood there clutching the results. I was not only surprised, but I also had an odd kind of curiosity for my unidentified half-brother. I wasn’t sure if I should tell my parents. Such details could disclose a lot of things.

In the end, I realized that some things are just too significant to overlook, regardless of the consequences. I made the decision to tell them, as I wanted, and on my terms. Meanwhile, David and I started to painstakingly create the sibling bond that none of us ever had.

Beneath the strangeness and discomfort, there was a relationship that was potentially just as important as the one I had expected from my meet-cute in the library.

Folks, that is all there is to it. A family gathering turned from a supper to a crisis of self. Is it not the case that life operates in peculiar ways?

In order to pay the bill, my significant other insisted that I give the server my card.
It was meant to be an evening of celebration exclusively. After six months at my new job, I was thrilled to finally inform my boyfriend Troy that I had gotten a huge raise.

He recommended the newest, posh restaurant in town, the one with the gorgeous interior and gourmet fare.

He said, “Lisa, let’s just get dressed and head out.” Since we don’t get to do this very often, let’s make the most of it.

We didn’t always choose to go out and do anything, I had to agree. This was not always the case.

“No problem,” I replied. “We really need to go out for a night.”

And I believed that we required it. Mostly because I had begun to see some signs of dissolution in our partnership, even though I wanted to believe that Troy and I were intended to be together forever. It felt, to put it simply, off.

Troy didn’t feel satisfied with his career, but I did.

During a salsa night one evening, he bitterly observed, “I do so much, but nobody bothers to recognize me.”

Troy sat on the couch, dipping his chips in the salsa and guacamole, and complained about his job for the entire evening.

Because of his opinions about my work, I refrained from complimenting him.

“Maybe you just need to give it more time,” I said, passing him a cool margarita alongside. “It’s only been a few months since you arrived.”

“Please,” he muttered to Lisa. “You were unable to understand. Give me room to exist.

But as I found out about this incredible chance, I was giddy with anticipation. I assumed Troy would feel the same about being recognized and having a celebration.

I was astonished when he told me he was proud of me and seemed sincere about it.

“Really, babe,” he said as he arrived to pick me up from my flat. “I admire you, and this is very important.”

The start of the evening was quite pleasant. Troy waited for me to finish getting ready before showing up with a bunch of roses. This was an exception to the rule that he disliked it when I took longer to get dressed than when he arrived.

“Come on,” I said. “I’m ready!”

Related Posts

Be the first to comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.


*