Part 3: The Beginning of the End
A month passed, and “interesting” quickly morphed into “insufferable.” Todd’s renovations were loud and never-ending. The constant hammering, drilling, and construction noise became a daily backdrop to Betty’s life. But it wasn’t just the noise that made Todd unbearable—it was his presence, his attitude, his complete disregard for anyone but himself.
One afternoon, as Betty was pruning the oak tree that had been a fixture of her grandmother’s garden for over seventy years, Todd sauntered over, his hands on his hips as if posing for a photo shoot.
“That tree’s gotta go,” he declared, his voice dripping with casual certainty.
Betty nearly fell off the ladder in shock. “Excuse me?”
“Your tree. It’s blocking prime sunlight from hitting my new deck,” he said, gesturing to the enormous deck he had just built. “I need full sun exposure for my outdoor content.” His words were a strange mix of entitlement and smugness. Betty could barely contain her shock.
“This oak has been here for 70 years,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. “It’s not going anywhere.”
Todd’s jaw clenched. “Look, Betty,” he said her name like it was an old-fashioned relic, “I’m trying to elevate this neighborhood. That deck cost me twelve grand. Your tree is literally shading my investment.”
“That’s generally what trees do, Todd. They provide shade,” Betty said, her patience thinning.
His face tightened with disdain. “I could have it declared a hazard.”
“That’s a little extreme, don’t you think?” Betty shot back, unable to contain her frustration.
“We’ll see about that,” Todd muttered before turning on his heel to walk away. He paused, then added, “Oh, and you might want to train your dog not to bark at mine. Some of us work from home, you know.”
Betty stood there, frozen for a moment, staring after him. “I don’t even have a dog,” she called after him. “That’s your dog barking at squirrels all day!”
Todd waved without looking back.
“Unbelievable,” Betty muttered, turning back to her oak tree. “Absolutely unbelievable.”
Part 4: The Gardens Begin to Wilt
Things were about to get much worse.
Betty had always taken great care of her grandmother’s garden, but recently, something strange had started happening. It wasn’t just the slight discoloration of her tomato plants or the drooping herbs—it was a more ominous shift in the garden’s aroma. It had stopped smelling like fresh earth and flowers, and instead, a strange, off-putting stench had begun to creep in. At first, she thought it might have been something to do with the weather or the soil, but soon, the signs became undeniable.
Her beloved roses—once vibrant and full of life—began to wilt. Their petals, which her grandmother had so carefully nurtured, turned brown and limp. Betty felt a pang of despair as she knelt beside them one morning, inspecting the damage.
“Please, no,” she whispered, her heart sinking. “What’s happening to you, my poor babies?”
The smell intensified, and it wasn’t compost or fertilizer—it was something rancid, unmistakable. Betty’s stomach twisted in dread. Something was wrong with her garden.
Determined to get to the bottom of it, she called a plumber that afternoon, explaining her concerns about a potential sewage leak. When Mike, the plumber, arrived, he followed her through the garden, frowning with each step.
“This isn’t good,” Mike muttered, inspecting the soil. “There’s definitely something leaking here.” He pulled out his equipment and began investigating.
Part 5: The Unsettling Discovery
After an hour of searching, Mike led Betty to a spot behind her shed where he had uncovered a green pipe, partially hidden by mulch. It looked out of place, like an afterthought, something added recently.
“This pipe doesn’t connect to your house,” Mike said, staring at it with confusion.
Betty blinked, her mind racing. “What do you mean? Where does it connect to?”
Mike ran a scope camera over the pipe, and as the image appeared on the screen, both of them gasped. The pipe snaked toward a familiar sight—the foundation of Todd’s newly built deck.
“That’s…” Betty couldn’t believe her eyes. “That’s Todd’s house.”
“Someone redirected part of their gray water and sewage to drain into your garden,” Mike said grimly. “And it looks pretty recent.”
Betty’s heart dropped. “Why would anyone do that?”
“Money. Proper sewage hookups and maintenance cost thousands. This way, he gets to flush without paying full price,” Mike explained.
Betty thought about Todd’s boasts of cutting corners, his endless renovations, and his obsession with profit. It all added up now.