Both Shirley and Mike froze on the spot.

Mike then burst into tears.

Shirley's expression darkened instantly. "Apologize to my son! And pay for that sword! Right now!"

I turned around and walked away.

Honestly, I could've just dropped to the ground and accused them of attempted assault. They should've packed it in and counted their lucky stars.

How dare she still expect me to apologize?

That was not happening.

I figured after the last incident, things between us were already beyond repair.

Shirley was more thick-skinned than I thought. She acted like nothing had happened and kept shamelessly trying to cozy up to me.

What I didn't expect was that things were about to get even worse.

Early the next morning, I woke up to a disgusting smell of rot and sour decay.

Frowning, I searched the apartment until I ended up standing at the front door.

The smell seemed to be coming from outside.

The second I opened the door, the stench nearly knocked me unconscious. I immediately covered my nose.

Four green garbage bins were piled outside my door.

One was filled with moldy grains clumped into solid chunks and covered in colorful fuzz.

Another contained pale gray meat of some kind, and it was crawling with fat white maggots.

I instantly felt nauseous.

The third was stuffed with rotten vegetables, shriveled corn, and mold-covered sweet potatoes.

The last one was the absolute worst. Rotting fish and shrimp overflowed from the top while swarms of flies buzzed around it.

I couldn't hold it in anymore and gagged against the wall.

What the hell was Shirley up to this time? Why was she saving up garbage for days without throwing it away?

She'd secretly piled all of it outside my door too. Was she expecting me to take it out for her?

Fine. If she wanted to leave it at my doorstep, then she couldn't blame me for what happened next.

I raised my foot and kicked the bins over one by one.

Clang!

The moldy grains, maggot-covered meat, rotten vegetables, decaying fish and shrimp, and black foul-smelling sludge at the bottom spilled everywhere. Some of it even splattered onto the door across my unit.

Another wave of stench hit instantly.

I couldn't possibly stay at home after that, so I headed out for breakfast instead.

I'd barely taken two mouthfuls of oatmeal when my phone started vibrating nonstop.

The residents' group chat was filled with messages.

Unit 202's tenant was Shirley.

Unit 202 sent the first message.

[Who kicked over the food outside my door? Own up to it now. That was my family's food supply for the coming month.]

Food supply?

The moment I recalled the disgusting smell and those squirming maggots, my appetite disappeared completely.

Had Shirley lost her mind?

Was she eating food out of the trash?

The messages kept coming.

[If nobody admits it within thirty minutes, every resident in the building will split the damages. Each household owes me 100 dollars!]

[Also, whichever apartment pays last has to hire cleaners to scrub my doorway. @Everyone]

The group chat went wild instantly.

Unit 502 wrote in.

[@Unit 202 Have you completely lost your mind? Are you trying to scam money out of other tenants now?]

Unit 902 chimed in.

[Since there are security cameras, check the footage. If that's not available, call property management. Why are you acting crazy in the group chat? @Unit 202]

Right after that, Shirley spammed several sixty-second voice messages.

I didn't even need to play them to know they were probably packed with profanity and screeching.

Suddenly, Unit 101's tenant, the guy who lived downstairs, suddenly joined the conversation.

[Who else could it be? Your neighbor is Unit 201. It's definitely that old lady! We all use the elevator. Who takes the stairs for no reason? @Unit 201, get in here already. Don't make the rest of us take the blame.]

Unit 101 belonged to a nearly forty-year-old single man who used to constantly report me to property management for making too much noise and disturbing his rest.

Even when I wasn't home, he'd still file complaints. It was like his life's purpose.

After I pulled a knife on him one time and threatened to chop him up, he never complained again.

Later, I heard it was because he had a crush on one of the new male employees in the property management office.

Once he started accusing me, everyone else in the group piled on and began tagging me too.

I slowly typed out a response.

[Meat covered in maggots, rotting fish and shrimp, and moldy grains? Sorry, I thought it was all garbage.]

Shirley replied instantly.

[Old hag, what kind of nonsense are you spewing? Those were premium proteins and organic ingredients! If you're that ignorant, then you should just keep your mouth shut! You ruined our family's food supply for an entire month. Pay me one thousand immediately or I'm not letting this go!]

She really had gone insane over money.

I replied.

[I see you really are broke enough to start treating trash like treasure, and now you're using the homeowners' group chat like it's a wishing well.]

After sending that, I tossed my phone aside and ignored her furious meltdown in the chat.

Once I finished the last spoonful of oatmeal, I suddenly found the whole thing amusing.

Since she was demanding a thousand dollars in compensation, then I ought to be generous as the older person.

I'd give her an even bigger gift.

I headed to the biggest wet market nearby.

While buying rubber gloves, I also made sure to pick up several thick black garbage bags.

After putting the gloves on, I carefully began selecting items beside the dumpsters.

There was rotten meat crawling with maggots, cracked rotten eggs that could only be scooped out from the bottom of trash bins, and slimy blackened vegetable leaves that left sticky residue all over my hands.

Before long, several heavy, foul-smelling plastic bags were filled to the brim.

Carrying my generous gift, I happily headed home.

The moment I stepped out of the elevator, something felt off. I detected a hint of feces mixed with the rotten stench.

When I reached my door, I was even more stunned.

Someone had splashed feces and urine all over my door. Yellow liquid dripped slowly down the surface.

The four garbage bins were gone, and now the smell of human waste mixed with rotting food turned into something beyond disgusting.

Shirley was absolutely vile.

Just as I pulled out my phone to make a call, the door to Unit 202 suddenly opened.

Shirley stepped out with a plastic basin in her hand. She looked surprised for a split second when she saw me. She then immediately smirked with satisfaction.

I noticed the basin no longer contained urine and feces. It was full of bloody water from something unidentifiable.

Judging from the way she held it, she was about to dump it at my door too.

"Back already, Mrs. Fisher? Your doorway had too much bad energy, so I used my son's poop and pee to cleanse it for you. No need to thank me.

"Oh, and you still owe me one thousand. Give it to me now."

At this point, she wasn't even hiding the fact she was extorting money anymore.

I smiled and spoke into the phone that had just connected.

"Officer, please tell me if this is fair. I'm just an old woman living alone. My neighbor is dumping human waste at my door and trying to extort money from me. She's taking advantage of me because I'm old and alone, isn't she?"

Shirley's expression changed instantly, but she still acted arrogant.

"So what if the cops come? You still owe me that money!"

Not long afterward, both the police and property management staff arrived.

I grabbed one of the officers by the hand and cried dramatically.

"H-How am I supposed to live like this? You have to stand up for me."

If the ground hadn't been covered in human waste, I probably would've lain down and rolled around crying too.

The officers immediately noticed how old I was. Afraid I might get too emotional and faint on the spot, they kept patting my back and comforting me.

After hearing the full story and seeing no major property damage, they instructed Shirley to clean up the mess and apologize to me.

She refused immediately. "Why should I? She ruined our family's food supply. She should compensate us!"

The officers went into her apartment to inspect her food supply.

I followed behind them and was instantly hit by a foul stench.

Expired milk and moldy grains were scattered everywhere.

Her precious son sat on the couch while gnawing on a rotten apple.

Initially, I thought Shirley eating trash was some bizarre young-person trend just for show, but judging from the scene inside, they genuinely ate that stuff.

After seeing Shirley's so-called food supply, the officers gave me a look full of sympathy.

They continued trying to reason with her.

"These spoiled foods are dangerous to eat. Don't bring them home anymore, especially when you have a child in the house. As a parent, you should be more careful."

Before leaving, the officers repeatedly reminded us that neighbors should look out for one another and try to be understanding.

Whether I listened or not didn't matter. Shirley definitely didn't.

She merely put on a fake act of apology in front of them. The second they left, she immediately cursed at me.

"You old wretch. Just wait."

-

In the blink of an eye, the weekend arrived.

Suddenly, I heard violent banging on my door. The pounding was so loud that the entire building could probably hear it.

It startled me so badly I thought my heart condition was about to flare up.

I peered through the peephole. It was Shirley again. This time, she was holding her precious son in her arms.

She looked frantic.

I turned around, went to the kitchen, grabbed a gleaming knife, and finally opened the door.

The irritation on Shirley's face immediately eased a little when she noticed the knife in my hand.

She was still frowning.

"What took you so long? I'm about to be late!"

As she spoke, she pushed her son straight into my apartment.

The way she barked orders felt like some rich housewife giving instructions to a hired help.

"My precious baby is allergic to all meat and seafood. Don't let him eat even a little.

"He only drinks water at exactly 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit. One degree hotter or colder is unacceptable.

"Also, the indoor temperature has to stay at exactly 78.8 degrees Fahrenheit. Too hot and he'll get a heat stroke. Too cold and he'll get sick.

"You'd better take good care of him. If anything goes wrong, I'm holding you accountable!"

The second she finished speaking, she ran straight to the elevator lobby.

I adjusted my reading glasses speechlessly.

Just as I was about to call property management, Mike suddenly barged into my living room.

Without even taking off his filthy shoes, he leaped right onto my couch.

He was using it like a trampoline.

I felt a throbbing sensation in my head.

"Get down. Get out of my house!"

He jumped even harder.

While bouncing around, he deliberately kicked at the wall with his dirty shoes. That instantly left several black footprints across the beige-colored wall.

"You old hag, why should I leave?"

He shouted arrogantly, "My mom said this place is going to be my playroom from now on! I can do whatever I want here!"

The property management call had just connected on my phone, but I hung up immediately.

I changed my expression and smiled at him. "You want to play, don't you? I know the perfect place for you."