Uncle's patient dog poo vengeance.
This is a story about my uncle’s vengeance. My uncle is chill and friendly, but he once had the misfortune of living next to an awful neighbor. The guy actually didn’t have a ton of bad habits, but he did exactly what he wanted to do and he didn’t care who it affected. And one of the things he wanted to do was take his big dog on a daily morning walk and let the dog do his doggy business on my uncle’s lawn.
The first time my uncle caught him, he calmly confronted him and politely requested that the neighbor stop using his lawn as a dog toilet. The neighbor calmly told my uncle to get f*cked: he didn’t care what my uncle thought, there was nothing my uncle could do about it, and nothing would change.
This being 1970s southern California, my uncle couldn’t record the neighbor and shame him online or report him to the police for some litter violation, and although he is a cool uncle, he was in no way physically intimidating enough to get this guy to back down. Every day for a week he went outside to confront the shitty neighbor and his shitting dog, and every day he got the exact same answer: f*ck off, I don’t care, and there’s nothing you can do about it.
On the eight morning, my uncle stayed inside, watching as the neighbor yet again allowed his dog to leave a fudgy dump on his lawn. Then, after the neighbor and his dog had continued on their walk, my uncle grabbed a shovel and went outside. He scooped up the dog shit and, with masterful accuracy, flung it onto the roof of the neighbor’s house. As mentioned before, this being 1970s California, the neighbor’s roof (like all of the houses in that area) had a very shallow slope, and once he saw that the poop didn’t roll off, my uncle headed back inside.
He repeated the exact same procedure every morning… for the next eight months.
Not once did the neighbor notice the steadily growing pile of dog shit on his roof, baking and dehydrating in the California sun. Not once did he smell anything off, nor did he find it suspicious that my uncle still greeted him in a friendly manner after having his lawn used as a dog loo every single morning.
Finally, after eight months, the hot and sunny weather gave way to a massive rainstorm. Within minutes, the entire crusty layer of dog poop shingles rehydrated and broke free, a reeking mudslide from hell that sloshed down onto the neighbor’s property, splattering his lawn, his house, and his car with literal pounds of dog shit. Over the next few days, the neighbor’s grass succumbed to the poison and died, paint began to flake off his car, and the neighbor himself had to finally clean up after his dog once the sunny weather returned and the remnants of the dog poonami began to dry up while still stubbornly stuck to every stinking corner of his house. Tragically, my uncle didn’t take any pictures of the poo-house (I would have loved to have seen that).
From the day after the rainstorm to the day my uncle moved out of that house, he never spoke to that neighbor again… but the dog poop stopped appearing on his lawn for good.