Privacy is precious—which is why I lost it when I spotted a camera pointed at my garden. My new neighbors, Frank and Carla, claimed it was for “security.” But when I caught them watching me sunbathe, I knew I had to act.
Instead of lawyers, I called my drama club friends. “We’re giving them a performance they won’t forget,” I declared.
The next Saturday, we unleashed chaos. Miguel “stabbed” Samantha with a rubber knife. Harriet shrieked about hiding the “body.” I ran around in a clown costume, wailing like a banshee. It was ridiculous—and perfectly visible on their camera.
Predictably, they called 911.
When police arrived, we played dumb. “Just rehearsing a play!” Then I pointed out their illegal surveillance. The officers weren’t amused—especially when they found weeks of footage.
Within days, Frank and Carla packed up. Was it extreme? Maybe. But if you’re going to spy on me, you’d better be ready for the show of your life.
