I live on a corner lot. Two years ago, newlyweds, Mr. and Mrs. Davis, moved into the house next door.
From the very beginning, they made rude remarks about my bright yellow house. They would laugh and exclaim, “Wow!
We have never seen such a bright house! Did you apply the paint yourself?
“Yeah, me and a gallon of sunshine!” Close them, I’d say. “What do you think? Do I have to paint the box after this?”
However, I have to say that the two next door would not stop bugging me about the color of the house. Mr. Davis always had to make a joke when he came.
“Is that clear enough for you Victoria?” He smiled and nudged his wife, who joined in with a hyena-like giggle.
She didn’t get better. She gave me a sympathetic look and asked, “Victoria, have you ever thought about changing?” instead of kings. Perhaps a more impartial option?”
Mye needed to have the charm surgically removed because his eyes hurt.
Their animosity was immediately apparent. It looked like the shade of my residence was the color of a funeral tray with rainbow sprinkles.
I was once approached by Mrs. Davis while I was planting petunias. Her perfectly manicured finger pointed at my house with a smile as bright as a wet Tuesday.
“Victoria, that color is so ugly! It goes with everything! It needs to be removed. How about something like…beige…?” She said.
I raised an eyebrow and held the watering can.
“Mrs. Davis, is that the reason for the commotion outside?” The looks on people’s faces led me to believe that a UFO had landed.
But it’s just a bit of color!” “A little color? Looks like our neighborhood has been invaded by a giant banana!”
Consider the value of your property! You have to be able to see how blatant it is.” She frowned. I tried to stay calm and shook my head.
“Mrs. Davis, there is no legal prohibition against this. Yellow is my color. It was the color my late husband loved.”
Her face turned scarlet. She said before running off, “This is far from over, Victoria!”
Mr. Boring Mrs. Prim and Proper were unable to accept my happy yellow house.
They tried to sue me, complained to the city about a “security risk” (lucky me), and criticized the “blinding” color of the police! That lawsuit snowballed in July.
The homeowners association against bold colors was their last ditch effort, but my wonderful neighbors told them to screw it up.
These days, the two are estranged from everyone and as popular as a skunk at a picnic.
“Do you believe that?” My former neighbor Mr. Thompson ran up to my yellow house with a smile as big as the sun. “Those two believed we would follow their beige trend! Unbelievable!”
Across the street, Mrs. Lee was laughing, the corners of her eyes frowning. “Honey, a bright house and a happy heart, that’s the motto, no matter what shade of blandness they sell.”
“Yeah, well, maybe this will finally shut them up!” I breathed out. Little did I know that this was just the beginning of their disagreement.
Get comfortable because things are about to get very bad.
I had a two-week business trip out of town.
Two whole weeks in that stuffy city. At last a path opened before me, leading me once more to my refuge. It should have been the first thing I saw, my yellow house, bright as a sunflower against the bland beige neighborhood.
Rather, a huge GRAY brick emerged from the curb. I almost missed it on the way past. My late husband had painted my house a cheery yellow, but now it was painted the shade of a forgotten grave!
I walked straight to the Davis residence, my footsteps echoing on the sidewalk.
They were obvious suspects, beige-clad bullies who failed to add some color to their dull world.
I practically pushed my way to their door and pounded on it with a clenched fist.
No answer. How brave! To think that a can of paint can change my house and my soul.
Mr. Thompson, my neighbor, came over and shook his head. I witnessed everything, Victoria. I got pictures too. I tried to call you but the call was not answered. Despite the legitimate work order of the painters, the police were called. They have nothing available.”
“What do you mean a valid work order?” I asked with anger in my voice.
Mr. Thompson nodded apologetically.
“They showed the papers to the cops. They said they told the Davises you paid them to repaint while you were gone.”
My blood started to boil. “Did they forge my name on the work order?”
Mr. Thompson nodded. It looks like that.
I’m sorry, Victoria. They didn’t listen to me when I tried to stop them.
“Please let me look at the pictures,” I said narrowing my eyes.
He walked me through photos of the painting company’s setup and progress on my property. “They had a work order in the name of ‘Mr. and Mrs. Davis, paid in cash,'” he continued.
I clenched my hands. “Of course I do.
I looked at my seat belt. And what do you know? The Davises never entered my country. Refined. Not an invasion.
No fees. I called the police once more, but because the painters were acting in good faith, they couldn’t intervene.
I grabbed my ID and home documents and stormed into the painting company’s office.
“You did a terrible job painting my house without my permission. It can damage the exterior of the house. What do you know about that? I’m going to sue you,” I yelled.
Surprised and shaking with guilt, Manager Gary apologized and stuttered, “But… but we thought it was your house.”
“Sure, it’s MY HOUSE, but I DIDN’T ASK for any color,” I squealed, furrowing my brows.
At that point, I became furious and asked for a printout of the work order.
At that point, I became furious and demanded a copy of the work order.
It was actually in the name of the Davises. When I informed the manager what happened he was taken aback.
“Mr. and Mrs. Davis claimed it was their house and refused a scraping service to save money … they said they would be out of town and wanted it done while they were gone,” Gary added.
My blood started to boil. And have you considered asking the actual homeowner to confirm any of this? Have you considered looking into ownership or address records?”
Gary looked genuinely sorry. “Normally we wouldn’t do that, but they were pretty convincing.
They even claimed to be the owner of the house they showed us. My sincere apologies, ma’am.”
And didn’t you ask someone nearby? Did you just come to paint my fucking house? I lost my temper.
Gary looked angry. “I’m sorry ma’am. We have no reason to be skeptical.”
I took a deep breath and tried to stay calm. “Well, now you know. And you’ll help me set it straight.”
This is completely unacceptable and responsibility must be accepted.”
Sweat dripped down the manager’s pearly temples. “Yes, without a doubt. We will work closely together.”
We were at a loss. This shouldn’t have happened.”
I nodded. “I want your workers to testify in court.
The Davises had the nerve to say I should have paid for the paint job after I filed suit. Amazing. Pathetic.
Employees of the painting company testified against them in court. My attorney described how the Davises damaged my home and defrauded me by pretending to be me.
After paying close attention, the judge faced the Davises. “You destroyed her property and took her identity. It’s both a criminal and a civil matter.”
The Davises appeared to have ingested some lemons. They were convicted of vandalism and fraud. They were given a community service sentence and told to pay all costs, including court fees, for repainting my house yellow.
“I hope you’re happy,” Ms. Davis cooed outside the courthouse.
I gave a charming smile. “I will when my house is YELLOW again!”
This is the story of how I put my plan into action. Sometimes it pays to stand up for yourself. What everyone thinks
The story of Victoria and her bright yellow house underscores the resilience needed to stand up to the unwarranted judgment and aggression of your neighbors. From the very beginning, the Davises’ disdain for her choice of color was palpable, betraying their narrow-mindedness and desire to impose her bland taste on her vibrant life. Despite their attempts to undermine her happiness with ridicule and even legal threats, Victoria remained steadfast and showed that one should never dim their light for the comfort of others.
The turning point came when the Davises went too far and took matters into their own hands by falsely claiming ownership of her property in order to change its appearance. This act of deceit prompted Victoria to seek justice, leading to a showdown in the courtroom where the truth prevailed. The result not only vindicated her but also exposed the Davises for their reckless actions. Their convictions for vandalism and fraud served as a reminder that malicious intent cannot go unpunished.
In the end, Victoria’s bubbly spirit prevailed and restored her beloved yellow house to its rightful glory. Her experience underscores an important lesson: facing adversity can lead not only to personal empowerment but also to reclaiming one’s identity and space.
As Victoria moves forward, she can be proud to stand up for her home and her right to express herself and inspire others to fearlessly embrace their individuality.