When our new neighbor Todd moved in, our peaceful shared garden turned into a nonstop frat party. Music blared until sunrise, beer cans littered the grass, and no amount of knocking on his door made him care. “I have a right to enjoy my place,” he smirked, slamming the door in our faces.

But Todd made a mistake—his sound system had no security. So one night, while his party raged, I hijacked his speakers and blasted baby cries at full volume. His guests fled, and Lila and I laughed until our sides hurt.

When he upgraded to a fancy WiFi sound system, he yelled out his password loud enough for half the building to hear. That was all I needed. Soon his TV shrieked nails-on-a-chalkboard, his printer spat creepy clown faces, and his speakers randomly rose and fell in volume. His parties turned into disasters, his friends stopped coming, and eventually Todd snapped. Within a week, he moved out.

Peace returned, the neighbors celebrated, and Lila asked me if we’d gone too far. “Maybe,” I admitted. “But sometimes you have to fight fire with fire.”Just as life felt quiet again, a new guy moved in next door. He shook our hands with a smile.“Nice to meet you. I’m Jake. Just so you know—I love hosting karaoke nights.”Lila and I exchanged a look. Here we go again.