Kind Mrs. Johnson is setting up her usual Saturday lunch for the local kids when a grumpy neighbor confronts her.
The situation escalates quickly, ending with the sweet older lady in tears. But the grouchy neighbor soon realizes his bullying won’t be tolerated! I have to share something that happened in my neighborhood last Saturday. It involves a sweet lady, some local kids, and a grumpy neighbor. The ending is unbelievable!
There’s a football field near our house where the local kids play on weekends. Mrs. Johnson, who lives down the street, has been making hot dogs and other goodies so the kids can stay and play longer without having to go home hungry.
It seems ridiculous that anyone would have an issue with an older lady doing a good deed, but that’s exactly what happened.Mrs. Johnson is a real gem. She’s probably in her late 60’s and has the kindest smile. Unfortunately, she’s a bit lonely. I think her kids live far away, and she lost her husband a few years back. This little tradition of hers, feeding the kids, seems to bring her so much joy.
And the kids love it, too. Every Saturday, they rush over to Mrs. Johnson’s table, laughing and chatting, grabbing their hot dogs, and thanking her. It’s a heartwarming sight, which is why last Saturday’s events were so shocking. Mrs. Johnson was setting up her table as usual when Mr. Davis, the grumpy neighbor from across the street, stormed out of his house, ready for a fight. I was astonished to see him beeline over to Mrs.
Johnson. “What’s all this noise?” he barked, waving his arms around. “And that smell? Must you really have a crazy party here every weekend?” Mrs. Johnson jumped. “Oh, Mr. Davis, it’s just the kids’ lunch.” “Well, I’ve had enough of it!” he snapped. “I’m calling the police. This isn’t a cafeteria.”Mrs. Johnson’s jaw dropped. “Mr. Davis, these children don’t have anywhere else to go. Some of them can’t even afford lunch.
I’m just trying to help.” He scoffed, crossing his arms. “Help? All I hear is noise, and all I smell is your greasy food. I work nights and need my rest. This has to stop!” Mrs. Johnson scowled. “No. I will not stop feeding these kids, Mr. Davis. And don’t try to claim you work nights with me, either! The whole street knows what you really get up to.” I never would’ve imagined sweet Mrs. Johnson would be the one to confront Mr. Davis, but it was long overdue.
He might’ve lived with his family, but he was basically a deadbeat. And whatever noise the kids were making was nothing compared to the hullabaloo he could kick up when he came home late from a night of partying. Watching him go all tense and red in the face was pretty satisfying until he did something so mean I don’t think I’ll ever get over it. “I tried asking nicely, but if you won’t listen, then I’ll make you stop,”
