My Husband Kept Staring at Our New Neighbor’s Yard — When I Looked, I Ended Up Calling the Police

When April catches her husband, Benedict, staring at their gorgeous new neighbor’s yard instead of mowing the lawn, she peeks over to see what he’s looking at. Her frustration quickly turns to alarm at what she sees there, prompting her to call the police.

You know those idyllic Saturday mornings you always read about in lifestyle magazines? The ones where the sun is shining just right, the coffee’s brewing, and everyone’s in a good mood?

Yeah, this wasn’t one of those mornings.

Early morning in a peaceful suburb | Source: Pexels

Early morning in a peaceful suburb | Source: Pexels

I stepped out into our backyard and immediately noticed something was off. Benedict was supposed to be mowing the lawn, a chore that was‌ long overdue.

But instead of the sound of the mower, there was just silence, save for the distant chirping of birds and the occasional rustle of leaves.

“Benedict!” I called out, my voice laced with frustration.

I scanned the yard, spotting him standing near the fence that separated us from our new neighbor, Angela.

A man staring at a fence | Source: Midjourney

A man staring at a fence | Source: Midjourney

“Benedict, what are you doing?”

No response. He was just standing there, staring intently at something on the other side of the fence. I could feel my patience thinning. I marched over, my slippers slapping against the patio as I went.

“Benedict, did you hear me? The lawn isn’t going to mow itself!”

Still, nothing. It was like he was in a trance. I huffed and moved to stand beside him, following his gaze to see what had him so captivated.

And that’s when I saw her. Angela.

A woman approaching her husband | Source: Midjourney

A woman approaching her husband | Source: Midjourney

She’d moved in a little over a week ago, and ever since, there’d been something about her that just didn’t sit right with me. Maybe it was the way she kept to herself, or how she always seemed to be watching us from her window.

Or maybe it was because she was drop-dead gorgeous: blonde, early twenties, the kind of woman who looked like she belonged in a glossy magazine ad rather than a suburban neighborhood.

Today, however, she was in her yard, meticulously burying something large and wrapped in a tarp in her flower bed.

A woman burying a large object in a flower bed | Source: Midjourney

A woman burying a large object in a flower bed | Source: Midjourney

My heart skipped a beat, and a chill ran down my spine. This wasn’t normal.

“Benedict, are you seeing this?” I whispered, my voice shaking.

He finally turned to look at me, a confused expression on his face. “Seeing what?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’? Angela! She’s burying something in her yard. Something big!”

Benedict blinked, his brows furrowing as he tried to process what I was saying. “Maybe it’s just garden stuff?”

A frowning man | Source: Midjourney

A frowning man | Source: Midjourney

“Garden stuff? Wrapped in a tarp?” I could hear the hysteria creeping into my voice. “We need to call the police.”

“April, don’t you think you’re overreacting a bit?” he said, scratching his head. “It’s probably nothing.”

Before I could argue further, Angela looked up and saw us watching her. Her face went from calm and focused to sheer panic. She quickly started shoveling more dirt over the tarp, her movements frantic.

“Oh my god, she saw us!” I gasped, pulling Benedict’s arm as I ducked out of sight. “We’re calling the police.”

A shocked and frightened woman | Source: Midjourney

A shocked and frightened woman | Source: Midjourney

My hands were trembling so much that it took me three tries to dial 911. When the dispatcher picked up, I struggled to keep my voice steady.

“There’s a woman burying something in her yard,” I stammered. “It looks like a body.”

“Ma’am, please stay calm,” the dispatcher said in a soothing tone. “Can you give me your address?”

I rattled off our location, my eyes never leaving Angela. She was glancing around nervously as she patted down the dirt, her face pale.

A woman patting down dirt in her garden | Source: Midjourney

A woman patting down dirt in her garden | Source: Midjourney

The police arrived in record time.

Their sirens blared, cutting through the suburban quiet, and sending a ripple of anxiety down my spine. I dragged Benedict with me to the front of the yard.

I stood there, my heart pounding, as officers in crisp uniforms poured out of their cars and approached Angela’s yard with an air of authority.

“Stay back, ma’am,” one of the officers instructed me, his voice calm but firm.

I nodded, gripping Benedict’s arm for support. He finally seemed to snap out of his stupor, his eyes widening as the reality of the situation hit him.

A man watching police officers approach a neighbor's house | Source: Midjourney

A man watching police officers approach a neighbor’s house | Source: Midjourney

The officers moved quickly, their boots crunching on the gravel as they crossed into Angela’s yard. She stood frozen, her face pale, hands raised slightly in a gesture of surrender.

“What’s going on here?” one officer demanded, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the freshly turned earth in the flower bed.

“It’s not what it looks like!” Angela exclaimed, her voice trembling. “I can explain!”

“Let’s see what’s under there first,” another officer said, motioning for his partner to investigate the freshly turned earth in the flower bed.

Freshly turned earth in a flower bed | Source: Midjourney

Freshly turned earth in a flower bed | Source: Midjourney

The second officer scraped away dirt and soon revealed the tarp.

“There’s something buried under here,” he called out as he hurriedly shoveled more of the dirt aside. It didn’t take long before he revealed a lumpy form a little over five feet long.

“Open it up,” the first officer said in a serious tone.

The moment felt like it stretched on forever. My breath hitched as the tarp was pulled back, revealing what looked unmistakably like a human form.

A tarp-covered object buried in a flower bed | Source: Midjourney

A tarp-covered object buried in a flower bed | Source: Midjourney

“Oh my god,” I whispered, my knees threatening to give way. Benedict tightened his grip on my arm, his face a mask of shock.

But then, as the officers peeled the tarp further, the truth came to light. It wasn’t a body. It was a mannequin. A lifelike, hyper-realistic mannequin, complete with detailed features and even eyelashes. The initial wave of horror was replaced by a confusing mix of relief and bewilderment.

“It’s a sculpture,” Angela said, her voice firmer now, though still edged with fear.

A woman speaking to a police officer | Source: Midjourney

A woman speaking to a police officer | Source: Midjourney

“I’m an artist. I specialize in hyper-realistic sculptures for exhibitions. This one wasn’t ready for public display, and I didn’t have space to store it properly, so I was burying it temporarily.”

The officers exchanged looks, one of them nodding slightly. “Alright, we’re going to need to verify that. Can we take a look inside your house?”

Angela nodded, her shoulders slumping as the tension began to drain away. “Yes, of course. Follow me.”

We watched as the officers followed her inside.

A police officer | Source: Pexels

A police officer | Source: Pexels

My mind raced, a thousand thoughts colliding at once. Was this really happening? Had we just called the police on our neighbor over a misunderstanding?

A few minutes later, the officers returned, looking somewhat sheepish. “Her story checks out,” one of them said, addressing us. “She’s got a whole studio full of art supplies and other sculptures. This was just a big misunderstanding.”

I felt a wave of embarrassment wash over me. “I’m so sorry,” I stammered, my face flushing. “I just… I thought…”

A woman speaking to a police officer | Source: Midjourney

A woman speaking to a police officer | Source: Midjourney

“It’s okay,” Angela said, her expression a blend of amusement and irritation. “I get it. It did look pretty suspicious.”

“You could have just asked her, April,” Benedict chimed in, a small smile playing on his lips. “Maybe then we wouldn’t have half the police force in our yard.”

“Not helping, Benedict,” I muttered, elbowing him lightly.

Angela sighed, a small smile breaking through her frustration. “It’s fine, really. I’m just glad it’s all cleared up. Maybe next time, we can just talk?”

Two women speaking on a suburban sidewalk | Source: Midjourney

Two women speaking on a suburban sidewalk | Source: Midjourney

“Agreed,” I said, feeling a mix of relief and lingering embarrassment. “I’m really sorry for all this. I guess I let my imagination get the better of me.”

Angela laughed, the sound easing the remaining tension. “No harm done. It’s actually kind of funny when you think about it.”

We all shared a laugh, the absurdity of the situation finally hitting us. As the police wrapped up and left, Angela and I stood there, a tentative understanding forming between us.

“Let’s move past this and be good neighbors, okay?” she suggested, extending her hand.

Two women shaking hands | Source: Midjourney

Two women shaking hands | Source: Midjourney

“Absolutely,” I agreed, shaking her hand firmly. “I’d like that.”

Benedict looked between us and grinned. “Well, I guess I’d better start on that lawn. Who knew a little yard work could turn into such an adventure?”

He nodded to Angela and strode off down the side of the house. As he fired up the mower, the familiar hum filled the air, bringing a sense of normalcy back to our Saturday morning.

Angela waved goodbye, heading back to her yard, and I watched her go, feeling a strange mix of gratitude and amusement.

A woman smiling | Source: Pexels

A woman smiling | Source: Pexels

“Life in the suburbs, huh?” I said to myself, shaking my head.

Just then, my eldest son appeared at the front door. He watched with wide eyes as the cops drove away before staring at me.

“Mom? Are you in trouble with the police?” he asked.

“No, honey,” I said with a laugh as I stepped inside. “What do you say to having pancakes for breakfast?”

As I stood mixing pancake batter a few minutes later, I couldn’t help but feel thankful.

Pancake batter in a mixing bowl | Source: Pexels

Pancake batter in a mixing bowl | Source: Pexels

What had initially seemed like a scary incident had ended in laughter and a newfound friendship. And as the hum of the lawnmower droned on, life returned to its usual rhythm, with a twist of unexpected excitement to remember.

After Trashman Babysat My Kids for 25 Minutes, I Decided to Hire Him as Full-Time Nanny — Story of the Day

A doctor was called for an emergency at the hospital and didn’t have anyone to leave her three kids with, but suddenly, she saw the garbageman and got an idea. She couldn’t believe her eyes when she returned home.

“Now? Are you sure Dr. Morris is not available?” I asked Nurse Carey on the phone, although I was already changing my clothes and thinking hard.

“No, Dr. Sanders. Dr. Morris is currently driving across state lines trying to get here. You live close by, so I thought I would call. The interns have no idea what they’re doing. I know it’s your day off, but I didn’t know what else to do. Will you be able to come?” Nurse Carey said, trying not to sound worried, but I knew they needed me.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

“I’ll be there as soon as I can. I just need to find a babysitter,” I replied and hung up, immediately dialing Vicky, who was the only person who could somewhat handle my three crazy kids.

I’ve been a surgeon for a long time, but I used to have my husband, Peter. My rock. He became a stay-at-home dad when the realities of having three children became too much. But he passed away from a sudden heart attack while I was in the middle of another surgery.

My entire house… wait, was this my house? It couldn’t be.

Now, I had to constantly find babysitters for the children when unexpected emergencies happened. I couldn’t handle them. I had no patience, and it was silly to think that any babysitter would be able to handle them either. Two babysitters quit after one day of work, and word got around that my kids Johnny, 9, Christie, 7, and Lucy, 3, were menaces.

I mean… they were not wrong. But they didn’t have to put me in this position. Now, only Vicky ever said yes. Usually, I paid through the roof for the local daycare center when I was scheduled regularly at work, but I couldn’t rush them in today. It was already noon on a Friday, and I would feel bad sending them.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

“I’m sorry, Opal. I can’t babysit today. I’m sick and can barely move,” Vicky said when I called. I told her to get some rest and hung up the phone. I hated the staff at the hospital daycare, and they hated me in return. But I was out of ideas. I would have to wrangle with my children and go there.

But suddenly, I heard all the kids yelling, “Uncle Bob! Uncle Bob!”

I sighed. They didn’t have an uncle. The local garbageman was so friendly and sweet that they started calling him uncle as soon as they could speak. I had known him for over ten years, and my kids adored him.

Johnny opened the front door, and all my babies went outside to greet him. I might have to call the hospital, I thought. I was never going to get those kids back into the house to be dressed on time.

But I did smile at the sight of them playing with Bob. My kids had turned into devils when their father died. The therapist said it was normal and would pass, but I wasn’t so sure. I felt like a failure. Like my mothering instincts were faulty or something. I didn’t know what to do.

But as I watched the kids hug and ask Uncle Bob to play, I had an idea. “That’s it,” I told myself and ran to Bob.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

“Bob, I have a crazy request. I know you’re busy. But I was wondering if you would babysit my kids for 25 minutes. I have to check something urgent at the hospital, and I have no one else,” I begged, and my kids looked at me with wide eyes filled with happiness.

“Sure, Dr. Sanders. I can watch them for a while,” he replied, nodding and smiling. My children jumped and cheered.

“They’re more than a handful, though. I’m warning you,” I said sheepishly.

“Don’t worry. You go ahead. Your job is important,” he told me, and I ran off, hoping my house would not be entirely destroyed by the time I returned.

The situation took more than 25 minutes, as Dr. Morris got stuck in traffic, and the patient became even more urgent. I was rushed into an operating room, and I couldn’t get away until three hours later. I felt so bad for Bob, who obviously had his own work to finish.

I drove home as quickly as I could. “Bob! Bob! I’m sorry!” I yelled breathlessly as I opened my door, but I froze.

My entire house… wait, was this my house? It couldn’t be. My house was always littered with toys, crayons, paper, and sometimes smears of peanut butter. I know. Gross. Don’t judge me.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

“Dr. Sanders, how was your surgery? Everything alright?” Bob asked as he appeared from the hallway.

“What happened here? My house… is unrecognizable. And why aren’t the kids screaming and running around?” I asked, so confused and shocked.

“Lucy is napping, and Christie and Johnny are in their rooms, reading,” he told me, and I swear, my jaw hit the floor.

“What? Are you kidding me?”

“No, go see.”

I had to go, and my eyes couldn’t believe it either. But Bob had told me the truth. “How did you do this?”

“Oh, Dr. Sanders. I was a single father raising kids once. Mine were ten times worse than these three angels,” Bob laughed. “I taught them to pick up after themselves and narrated them fairy tales. Your kids ate that up. You might want to buy them more books.”

I nodded, starstruck. No one in my life had ever called my kids “angels,” and they had never been interested in the few books I got. “I can’t believe it,” I whispered.

“It was easy. But now I have to go,” Bob said, picking up his work jacket from the back of a chair.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pe

“Oh, yes. I’m so sorry about being late. I’m so embarrassed,” I said, touching my forehead. “I’ll pay you triple for that.”

“No. No. I don’t need money,” Bob shook his head, raising his hands.

“Please. For your time,” I insisted with my stern look. People at the hospital were afraid of that look, so I knew Bob would not be able to reject the money.

“Ok, I’ll treat the kids to something nice,” he laughed. “Goodbye, Dr. Sanders. Have a nice day!”

“Thank you!” I yelled out, exhausted.

***

My kids behaved for the rest of the day, and I almost cried. It was the best day ever.

So, I called Bob and offered him a full-time nanny job, tripling his current salary and adding more health benefits since I had connections at the hospital. He accepted in the end, and I was so thankful that I gave him a Christmas bonus and plane tickets to his family could visit Disneyland in California later that year.

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