The Perfect Way to Screw with Your Neighbor

In the seven years that we’ve lived in our home, we’ve pressed the long, rectangular button on our garage door remote at least 3.2 million times. We’ve never had a problem with said remote. And we’ve certainly never opened our neighbor’s garage with our garage door opener.

Until last week.

I’m aware that we live in a world where we are constantly engulfed in an invisible cloud of wireless connections and Blueteeth and gamma rays, but I had no idea that garage door frequencies could become jumbled until I opened our garage door and noticed that the neighbor’s closed.

I shrugged it off and lugged the groceries inside.

I left again a few hours later and shut the garage door. And I noticed that the neighbor’s opened.

I thought it was strange, so I pushed the remote button again to confirm my suspicions.

Up. Down.

My eyes grew wide because I knew I had hit the practical joke jackpot.

See, the old neighbor and I get along pretty well. His stories are absolutely epic and always combine the perfect ratio of brutal honesty and humor. Take for example his view on the lady around the corner that’s committing worker’s comp fraud:

“If she has a bad back, see, how in the world is she able to haul that wheelbarra’ all over her yard? My taxes pay for her worker’s comp, so I didn’t feel bad about letting the P.I. park right in front of my house to get some good snapshots of her messin’ about and haulin’ that wheelbarra’. Phonies like that make me want to, what the young folks, say? Um, S.M.H.?” (shake my head)

I wanted to be one of his stories, and I knew our garage door mix up would make good material. So, later that night, I waited on him to come outside. Since he’s always tending to his yard, I didn’t have to wait long.

Down.

*he whips around and looks at door*

Up.

*scratches head*

Down.

*stink face*

Up.

“Sharon!” he calls to his wife. 

Down.

“Sharon! Get out here! This door is goin’ crazy!”

Up.

“Lawd, mercy.”

Down.

“SHARON!!!!”

Up.

*grabs rake from grass*

Down.

*swats at door with rake like its possessed*

Up.

“SHARON!!!!”

Down.

*rocks back and forth like he’s about to join in a game of jump rope*

Up.

*sprints under door*

Down.

“Have you boys been messin’ with this door?”

Up.

“Lawd, mercy! SHARON!”

Down.

*stares at door in despair*

Up.

“This **$*#*@* goin’ crazy! SHARON!”

Down.

“Unplug it! Unplug it!”

Up.

*grabs step ladder*

Down.

*drags ladder across garage while mumbling expletives*

Up.

“Stupid ***$*#**@*!”

Down.

*climbs ladder, unplugs garage door motor from ceiling and wipes perspiration from his brow*

Door stops in mid-lift.

“SHARON!”

Meanwhile, back at my house…..

That happened on Tuesday.

I told him about the mixed frequencies on Thursday.

Did I mention what a great sense of humor he has?

I think Corey Feldman said it best in “The Burbs”- I love this neighborhood.