Not all neighbors are the greatest. These people share how horrible their neighbors are. Content has been edited for clarity purposes.
Everything Went Downhill When The Grandparents Died
“I grew up next to a family who was really nice. Their grandparents gave them that house and it was perfect. It always made our house and lawn look like trash.
The kid in the family was four years older than me. Very nice and good in school and whatnot. He started getting into smoking and drinking around 14. Had a kid. Then another and another.
The grandfather who gave them the house died and the house then started getting worse. Not as much lawn mowing or keep-up. Old cars started to gather in the yard. If it got stuck, it would just stay there forever.
The woman of the house died, then the man. So it was just the 24-year-old who was immature and his three offspring kids living there with his dead-beat girlfriend.
We looked over one day and the gas meter from their yard was gone. This was winter in Ohio and it can get cold here. Then a couple of weeks later, one night, we looked over and there was not a single light on at all. The electricity had been shut off as well.
A ‘For Sale’ sign showed up in the front yard for a single day. Then the house went empty and was foreclosed on by the bank. There was caution tape wrapped around the entire house. Six months later, some US Marshals showed up at my door looking for the guy. They surrounded the house next door and mine. I told them I didn’t know where he was and they left. I heard later they found him and he went to jail for a year.
There the house sat. Falling apart with caution tape wrapped around it.
When someone finally purchased it from the bank, the basement had six feet of water in it. Every piece of dry-wall and interior wall, and even some floor joists, had to be removed and replaced.
In 2012, the house was completely redone on the inside and looks amazing. They are the nicest people.”
Sounds Like A Complicated Fellow
“The neighbor on either side of the house I grew up in were pretty good. On the right was a ghost neighbor who eventually started talking to us and being pretty cool, and on the left were my godparents.
Across the street was a family of addicts, two doors down from them on the corner was a guy who cooked and sold crack. He had a network of users and sellers all down the street, and near one corner house at every intersection was involved with him.
This guy was a freaking icon. He had a make-shift auto-shop in his garage, and he worked on cars from around 5 am until about midnight every day, loudly, punctuated by people coming and going from his house to buy crack or chat or whatever. Sometimes he would have loud arguments with people outside, and sometimes he would have fights with people he argued with. More often when he went for his weapon, people left.
Dan rode his bike everywhere. He had a car, and it worked, but he generally just rode his bike all over the place.
Now, growing up, I just saw him as a terrible neighbor, to be feared and avoided.
The thing was, Tweaker Dan was actually a pretty friendly guy. He would wave to everyone, neighbors, anyone who lived in the neighborhood, anyone he recognized, really.
It wasn’t until I was older that I learned a little more about Dan and his operation because of some mutual friends I ended up knowing.
Dan didn’t just supply crack to the neighborhood users and sellers, Dan controlled a large amount of the local supply chain. There were two major gangs in the area, but our neighborhood fell directly in a kind of neutral area between their territories. One gang probably could have taken our neighborhood if they had wanted to, they were big enough and powerful enough, but for Dan.
Dan was their supplier. Part of their arrangement with him is that he sold to them, but they stayed the heck out of the neighborhood. This was his arrangement with anyone ‘affiliated’ that he sold to. He would sell to pretty much anyone, but if he dealt with you, you kept your nonsense out of his neighborhood.
Turns out, this is also why he rode his bike everywhere and waved to everyone. Dan was keeping an eye on who came and went. He waved because he wanted you to know he was watching. It wasn’t so much that he was being friendly, though he was, but that he was communicating something very important: he was watching.
To those of us that weren’t involved with him, we didn’t know. We didn’t know about his rules, who he said was allowed to come and go, the arrangements he’d made that basically kept our neighborhood from getting worse as the surrounding city turned to trash. We only knew about his erratic and peculiar behavior, that he never slept, that he dealt, that he did them.
A lot of the clean houses in the neighborhood vilified him, but it was always peculiar to see which houses were friendly with him because it was not always who you’d expect. For a guy who had so much interaction with the dopeheads, he was also friends with the prison guard, the family who lived a few doors down, my godfather. People you’d have thought would have avoided him.
But they knew. Heck knows how, but they did. I asked my godfather about it after I found out and he said yeah, he knew, he just didn’t see it as something that should be talked about.
So that’s Tweaker Dan. One of the best and worst neighbors I’ve ever had.”
Bad Mom Of The Year
“I moved into a new apartment about six months ago, and I was next to this lady and her three young children.
She befriended me, and I thought she was nice enough. We’d have a few drinks together like once a week, then I’d go home. We got along pretty well, and one night she asked me to watch her kids for a little bit and she’d pay me. She said an hour. She turned up four hours later, wasted, and didn’t pay me. I figured I’d let it slide. I had her kids in bed so I just left.
She continually kept dropping her kids off on me, and always came home annihilated. I got really sick of it and started not answering my door.
A couple of weeks later, she was having a party in the hallway. I had come back from class, she saw me, and invited me over for a couple of drinks. I figured I may as well. After a couple of hours, she started snorting pills and pounding back more shots. While holding her infant. Everyone was passed out by this point or gone. She projectile vomited onto the floor and almost dropped her baby, and then passed out. Her friends and I couldn’t wake her. So I fixed them something to eat, put them in bed, and went home.
Several times over the following weeks this would happen. And then she started leaving her children alone. Mind you, they were eight, five, and three months old. They would come knock on my door because they were hungry or scared. I’d always feed them and let them sit in my living room. After a couple of times of this happening, I got completely fed up. I had CPS on dial, and I gave her 15 minutes to come home. She showed up and took her kids home.
While I was at school one evening, my roommate texted me to inform me that she had busted into our apartment while she thought no one was there. Well, he was. He made her leave, and what do you know, a hundred dollars went missing from my house a few days before that. I guarantee it was her. A pair of my heels and a bunch of change was gone too.
That night when I came home, there was a knock on the door. This time she had left her kids alone for hours on end. We were done with this nonsense. My roommate called CPS and the police. The police showed up instantly and were furious. She had left her children alone, they had tried to cook and there was broken glass all on the floor. The baby’s diaper was on her so long it was stuck to her, and there was evidence that she would beat them.
I told the police all that I’d seen over the past few months. They took our statements and waited for her to come home. She showed up miraculously after they got ahold of her ‘baby daddy.’ Out the window, I saw her and she started getting violent with the police. They slammed her on the car and arrested her.
One of the police came back upstairs and informed me she stated that I was supposed to be watching her kids. She wanted me to lie for her! I said absolutely not. Turns out she was wasted on arrival and had previous child neglect charges, and a theft charge. She’s been in jail since December. Her children are with their grandparents and very well taken care of.
This lady was a nightmare. I’m glad to be rid of her.”
“I Came Close To Physical Fights On Three Separate Occasions”
“I just bought our house at the height of the market, the twin house next door couldn’t sell, so the developer rented it to two men in their 30s not long after we moved in. That first Saturday was a full-on raging party, which was irritating at three in the morning. I went over to ask them to lower the volume, they were too wasted to even hear me. There must have been 50 people there, and on the deck, right under our window. Talked to them the next morning, they were dismissively apologetic. That was the first party.
Parties at least four times a week, always late, always loud. Partiers parked in my driveway sat on my lawn and porch, and bottles were thrown over my yard, fights were in and around my property.
Eventually, these two guys subleased their house to six more guys, who were primarily laborers during the day, and full-on drinkers at night. Guys that would never grow up and answer to no one. Despite my attempts to be peaceful, it wasn’t gonna happen.
It became clear I was the one who was calling the police so they began to retaliate, culminating in a rabbit being dismembered on my porch. I knew it was them as the snowprints led straight to their house. I became increasingly desperate, as this wasn’t going to end. I enlisted the help of the neighbors who would call the police, but mostly it was me who called at least three times a night. I set up video cameras to record their antics.
One night, they had a film crew set up in that house, apparently filming a movie, completed with sound equipment, lighting, cables, and all strewn about my property and driveway, well until two am in the morning.
One night a wasted punk jumped over our fence and I chased him out with a baseball bat. From that point forward, I was at war. I came close to physical fights on three separate occasions. Eventually, I wrote letters to the Alderman, and to the developer. I threatened to hold the developer responsible for all that happened there. I enlisted the help of the community relations police officer who went to the developer and noted all of the calls and told them they were gonna get a citation from the city, a very expensive one.
The boneheads moved out the next day.
She Was Beyond Paranoid
“My parents’ next-door neighbors were terrible, the wife in particular. When their kids were in school, the mother would sit in the driveway at 6:30 am and honk the horn until they came outside to leave for school. One day my mom asked if they could refrain from doing that. Apparently, they couldn’t. The honking continued, then everyone in the house decided to honk several times EVERY time they pulled out of the driveway, just to be pricks. They still continued to do this years later.
They accused my mom of having a garden on their property (my parents have lived there for 25 years, the garden has been there for 25 years). They called a land surveyor who laid out the edges of their property. Sure enough, the garden was four inches over the line. This lady went nuts, spray painted a huge neon orange line between the yards, dug up the garden, put a tiny fence in it, then started storing their trash bins on the area (in the back corner of the yard, super inconvenient if you ask me). Keep in mind, this was a neighborhood with a civic association. You were not allowed to even put up a fence without voted-on permission.
She accused my parents of putting dog poop in their yard. My parents didn’t have a dog, but this family had three wiener dogs that didn’t get walked. She stomped over to my parents’ house and started screaming. My dad dealt with her. He said she was screaming nonsense and seemed super paranoid, that my mom was plotting against them and sabotaging their house.
The whole thing was weird.”
Why Would He Even Park There Anyway?!
“My first apartment was great until these two pricks arrived that thought they owned the building. The guy worked for a produce place and didn’t have a car but his spot was beside mine. He would usually let his visitors use it once in a while (didn’t bother me).
He then started parking one of the porduce store’s commercial cube vans (similar to a U-HAUL 17 footer van) in his spot (which is illegal in my city enforced by a Bylaw). They had to park on the side of the road.
This meant I had no room to both park and get in\out of my car all depending on when he got back. I was trying to be very friendly to him and gave him a nice note on his windscreen that asked him to be more considerate and park on the road instead (Not my words and was very diplomatic while writing it up). He ignored it.
Weeks went by and I had enough. A few scrapes on my car (I didn’t really care because my car wasn’t in the best of shape but still) made me start parking on the road instead. So I gave up and called the city to ticket and towed it away.
They arrived and he freaked out like he didn’t do anything wrong. His bill came up to about $300 and he started calling me a moron and a baby for complaining. He also took a swing at me. The tow truck driver called the police and arrested him for disorderly conduct and I got the super to evict him.”
Both Neighbors Didn’t Like What He Was Doing
“When I was in Arizona, we lived in a cul-de-sac with two houses next to us, a lesbian couple and a wealthy bachelor looking to save a few pennies. The lesbians we called ‘Butch’ and ‘Sundance’ and the guy we called ‘Beemer Boy’ as he had a shiny new BMW.
Well, my family was poor, as was evident seeing the neighborhood we moved into, and my dad always worked on our cars. I remember Beemer Boy cussing out my dad about dropping property values and if he didn’t stop what he was doing he’d get the police involved. My dad was only doing an oil change. Normally it’d have taken 15 minutes. It took two hours because he DID call the cops, so the cops showed up and just double-checked that my father wasn’t dumping the oil into the sewer system and yadda yadda yadda. Cops left and we finished up.
From that point on, Beemer Boy would watch us like a hawk from his window if he saw movement in our driveway. Putting coolant in mom’s car? At the window. Changing out a tire? AT the window. It was mental.
Soon Butch and Sundance got involved. My dad was installing brakes into his car and Butch came out of her house like a screaming harpy screaming at him about how it made the neighborhood look bad and he should take the ‘freaking thing to a darn mechanic!’
‘I don’t have $200 for someone to mess up with my car! You might, but I don’t. I’ll be done in the hour,’ he said.
IT took longer than an hour because again, cops were called on my dad for doing work on his car. The cops poked around, making sure he was not being messy, and being ‘Eco-friendly’, which he was and they left.
From that point on, Butch would stand on her porch if we did anything outside. Butch became neurotic and one time filed a noise complaint against me and my siblings saying we were being too loud and called the cops on us, again. Too bad this time around, my brother, sister, and I were all at school. D’oh!
So, a week before we left, we had to get rid of a car that my dad was selling to a friend, but the car needed a new engine. It was a 1982 Corolla Wagon so it was not a problem really. So a middle finger to these pricks on our last week there was an engine swap between two Toyotas parked in our gravel lawn. Normally it’d take about a day to do. Too bad it took us the entire week.”
“We Were The Bad Neighbors”
“We WERE the bad neighbors. Growing up, I thought it was normal for every family to scream at each other at the top of their lungs. I assumed no one could hear us because we never heard anyone else. Only after I was grown did I realize why our neighbors gave us dirty looks, and how that one neighbor who came to us about it was not actually crazy, but probably the only person with enough balls to say anything. They moved because of our family.
My mother would routinely get wasted, throw open the back door, and holler curse words into the world. Just like that, no accompany. A single howling obscenity to let the complex and random street people (kids and all) feel her anguish. At one point, a schoolmate moved into a mobile home just on the other side of the fence, and she would go to school the next morning and share the business my mother had screamed out the door the day before.
After a while, we started getting a lot of Indian immigrants. The fact that these people were of a different culture was wholly offensive to my parents. Yes, the aroma of their food carried really well. Yes, they kept their shoes outside– on their own mat. But they were generally friendly and kept to themselves. By this time, I had developed an awareness of others, but my parents had not. They would loudly complain about the food, or the shoes, or just the fact that these people were different. Sometimes my mother would conspire (in front of said neighbors, whom she assumed did not speak English) about taking their shoes and hiding them, just to show them who was boss.
It came to a head one night when my mother was wasted and decided to take the trash out. Our neighbor’s shoes sat unassumingly about three feet away from my mother’s path, right next to the door on a mat that was in no one’s way. She, glaring with her beady little bloodshot eyes, decided that enough was enough with the shoes. Away she stormed, going out of her way to stomp all over them while I looked on in horror.
‘These SHOES are IN MY WAY!’ she screamed as they flew in every direction.
I actually snuck out after she’d gone, and fixed their shoes the best I could.
We moved years later, but nothing improved. Things got worse, in fact. We became that house, the one where cops were a semi-regular fixture. Which is a shame– it seemed like a nice, quiet neighborhood. They still wonder why all the neighbors seem to hate them. I just feel lucky I managed to come out of it with a sense of cause and effect, and how my actions may affect others.
“We lived on a lake, and there was an empty lot (aside from a very small toolshed) next to our house. No house, nothing, but a guy named Doug owned it. He lived in town. He would occasionally come out to mow the lawn and things like that, but that was very occasionally.
We, on the other hand, lived in our house, had three dogs, and had four kittens. The kittens were outside cats, and they actually had their own ‘room’ outside that we built in an old mudroom with a cat door, climbing spaces, places to chill when the winters were cold, everything a cat would want. Our dogs got pretty much the same freedom visiting the lake with us, walks, only the cats would stay out all day/night, go hunting, visit neighbors, whatever. Everyone was cool with this except Doug. Which would have made us change our habits if he was not such an immense prick.
Once, when Doug was doing yard work at the empty lot, my brothers and I were playing outside. My youngest brother was about eight at the time, my oldest brother was about 13, I was about 10. Our dog was outside too, and he noticed someone in the usually vacant lot and went to investigate. My dog barked but did not come even within five feet of this guy. We all saw. So, trying to be good kids, we ran to get our dog because we know his barking could be scary, plus we were embarrassed. My youngest brother ran to get our dog and Doug saw this, and meanwhile, Doug got in his car and started tearing out of the vacant lot in anger.
My youngest brother had our dog by the collar, and Doug was driving at least 15 miles per hour at this point, and came within less than two feet of my eight-year-old brother who dove out of the way with the dog, pulled into our driveway, and started SCREAMING at my mom immediately. My mom was a calm lady, but since she saw that Doug was not hurt, and saw him almost hit her son, she freaked out on him. Plus, my brothers and I all saw this. We seriously never bothered this guy, were nice to him when we saw him, and we did not want our pets to impose on anyone. On a separate occasion, one of our little kittens decided to wander up to Doug to say hi, and in response (which we saw) he straight up punted our baby cat and dislocated his hip.
On an even more separate occasion, Doug had an ‘electrical accident’ at work. I guess he was electrocuted. I cannot remember his profession. But, he had to walk with a cane. He was at the lot with some other guy, and they were bringing in a fishing boat. Poor Doug hobbled on his cane as the other guy lifted the boat off the hitch, and the guy was struggling a lot, and Doug literally THREW his cane to the side and ran up to help.
He was a huge prick, and kids should not remember the scary neighbor guy that came around sometimes. We stayed in the house whenever he came out after a while. He was horrible. I also think he called the cops on one occasion, but from what I recall, the cop knew how stupid Doug was.”
She Didn’t Care
“It was the night my sister died. My other sister parked in their empty, two-car driveway for ten minutes because the street parking was full of police, ambulance, and medical examiners. I had to get out of the house for a minute, so I headed over there to apologize and tell her she would be moving as soon as the medical examiner was done.
She tore a strip off of me before I could open my mouth. When I explained what happened, she said ‘Well, I guess we’re both having a bad day. Sorry for your loss’, in the snottiness voice I have ever heard.
It was a devastating night, and to this day I am so angry about it. We’ve lived here for more than five years, and have had a perfectly cordial relationship before this. I haven’t seen her since (it was three weeks yesterday).”