Wails about Mail Assail

Part One - the Mowing

My neighbour despises me like Cromwell hated the monarchy. That's all well and good until it leads to someone losing their head. Which he does, frequently and vigorously. So, I petty revenge. This is only a small part of our mutual insanity.

Background

We're quite rural and quite north and the properties we live on are peculiar. Which means that our post is delivered to a clump of letter boxes, not to our individual houses. Our letter boxes are right beside another. Also, the council, in its infinitesimal wisdom, switched our house numbers a few years ago. Neighbour ended up with our old number, and vice versa. As is understandable, sometimes the mail to: address is incorrect. He hates this, even though he demanded the numbers be changed.

He also tried to sue me because a delivery driver came down his driveway and rutted up his lawn. That's right folks, a lawsuit for “mental anguish” and “property damages”.

Revenge #2 - The Post

Neighbour rarely receives my mis-addressed post. I think there have been 5 items over the past five years which have been addressed incorrectly. Since his observation skills are so high, he manages to open the mail and pay invoices that are not addressed to him nor are services he uses. Hilariously, the invoices are usually a crock of shit and from fake companies. He generally forwards the opened mail by hurling it at my car as he drives past. This is also his method for dealing with mail and packages that have been correctly addressed, but incorrectly delivered. The tosser’s toss.

On the last one, he decided he'd had enough! and writes a nasty letter stating he will no longer put mis-addressed mail in my box (teehee) and will be returning it to sender! I also am to pay him back for his payment to “Nigerian Prince Utilities”! as they refused to refund his money. I ignore his crayon written drivel and pass it onto my prorevengers.

Fair go, mate. Return to sender is fair play for incorrect address. Bit harsh for mail and packages their Royal Arses faff up, but I receive so little and can usually intercept them. I'm not paying you for your own stupidity, though. And turnabout is fair game. So, the mail petty revenge begins.

I put up signs directing the delivery agents to the correct (read: my) house. Beautiful wooden signs that interfere with one of his mowing patches and can't be moved. Right in his line of sight, so he sees it every time he goes home. He hates me so much this reminder of my existence turns his face red. Also, it fucks with his sacred mow.

I also give very. clear. written. instructions. to delivery agents. Which are visible on the outside of the package. So when they inevitably are mis-delivered, he knows. It’s still my fault for believing I am allowed to use the internet and the postal service, but as they are correctly addressed, they only get the tosser's toss. Since he can't reasonably blame me, he takes it out on the packages instead. Like he's trying to slam dunk my headlight.

His three kids are old enough to go to sleep-away camp. And they send postcards. I only know this as they (the postcards, not the kids) end up in my mailbox. I used to slip them into his, as a nice person. No need for accolades or acknowledgement, just pop them in and move on with my day. Now they get the Elvis treatment (“Return to sender. Address unknown.”) and are put in a Royal Mail box about 30 miles away. I do this for everything of his that I get. I even have a printed rubber stamp that ironically was a tosser's toss package. He gets everything, probably, but after a nice delay.

Each time I am at the letter boxes, I leave a salty gift on his knob. A little spittle goes a long way to coating the letter box handle. It's only done after delivery but before he picks it up. On hot days, it's supplemented with arse sweat.

When it rains, which it does a lot, I crack open his letter box door. It's angled back enough to allow for a touch of flooding. He also takes days to get his mail, giving nature the time she needs.

I have obviously signed him up for a religious periodical for a god he does not affiliate with. Currently, the local Buddhist center has upped its circulation by 6… one for each of his family members living there. The papist does not approve. When he cancels, I switch to another religion. I also spell his name incorrectly, or address it to his wife's maiden name. The bigotry and misogyny is strong in him, so this irks him further.

It's all so petty, but the best part is how beat up his previously immaculate letterbox is looking. Because he's taken to slamming and slapping it. Getting it to submit to his needs I suppose.

Up Next: Revenge #3 - Vegetables