Home should be your sanctuary—not something neighbors can redecorate on a whim. But that’s exactly what happened when the Davises decided my yellow house clashed with their dull worldview.
Their campaign against my paint color started small: passive-aggressive notes about “neighborhood aesthetics,” calls to the city about “safety hazards” (yellow is dangerous now?), even forming a “Homeowners Against Bold Colors” group that flopped spectacularly.
Then they crossed the line. While I was away, they hired painters to coat my house in soul-crushing gray, forging ownership documents. I only discovered the crime when my taxi pulled up to what looked like a different house.
The legal battle was sweet justice. Not only did they have to pay to restore my yellow walls, but the judge gave them community service “to contemplate why color brings joy.” Now my house shines brighter than ever—a constant reminder that bullies hate happiness.
