Then one day, Ethan came home, sweat dripping from his forehead. His shirt was soaked, and he looked like he’d been running for hours.
“Ethan, what happened?” I asked, walking over to him as he plopped down on the couch.
“Mrs. Johnson asked me to mow her lawn,” he panted. “She said she’d pay me twenty bucks.”
I glanced out the window at Mrs. Johnson’s yard. It was huge, easily the biggest in the neighborhood. Ethan had mowed the entire thing. It looked perfect, lines neat and clean.
“Two days,” Ethan said, wiping his face with his shirt. “It took me two whole days. But she said she’d pay me when I was done.”
I smiled at him, proud. Ethan was a good kid, always looking to help out. He’d been saving up for weeks to buy a food processor for his grandma’s birthday. The twenty dollars would help him get a little closer.
“Did she pay you yet?” I asked, still looking out the window.
“No, but I’m sure she will,” Ethan said, his voice hopeful.
I nodded. Mrs. Johnson might be distant, but stiffing a kid out of twenty bucks? Even she wouldn’t do that. Or so I thought.
A few days passed, and I noticed Ethan was quieter than usual. He wasn’t his usual cheerful self, and it worried me.
“What’s wrong, honey?” I asked one evening as he sat by the window, staring at Mrs. Johnson’s house.
“She hasn’t paid me yet,” he said softly.
I frowned. “Well, have you asked her?”
Ethan nodded. “Yeah, I went over yesterday, but she told me she was busy and to come back later. So I went again today, and she told me… she told me to get lost.”
“What?” I gasped, shocked. “What do you mean ‘get lost’?”
Ethan looked down at his hands, his voice shaking just a little. “She said I should be grateful for the lesson I learned from mowing her lawn. That learning to work hard was the real payment. She said I didn’t need the money.”
My heart dropped, and my anger rose. This woman had tricked my son into doing two days of hard work and then refused to pay him. How dare she?
I clenched my fists, trying to stay calm for his sake, but inside I was boiling. “Don’t worry about it, honey. I’ll take care of it.”
Ethan gave me a small, trusting smile. But inside, I was already planning what I’d do next. Mrs. Johnson might think she was teaching my son a lesson, but she was about to learn one herself.
I sat on the porch the next morning, watching Mrs. Johnson pull out of her driveway, as polished as ever. The decision had been brewing inside me for days, and now, I felt no hesitation.
My son deserved justice, and if Mrs. Johnson wasn’t going to do the right thing, then I’d make sure she learned a lesson of her own. I got to making calls and leaving voice messages.
Around an hour later, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was Mark, my old friend from high school, who now ran a small landscaping business. I explained the situation in a quick, hushed tone.
“So, you want me to… trim her hedges into weird shapes?” he chuckled on the other end of the line.
Mrs. Johnson took immense pride in her yard, especially her hedges. Every Saturday morning, without fail, she’d be out there, pruning the bushes with meticulous care.
She had them shaped into perfect, symmetrical forms that gave her house a neat, upscale appearance. To her, those hedges weren’t just plants—they were a statement.
“Exactly. Nothing destructive. Just enough to give them a funny look. She’s proud of that yard, and I want her to notice.”
Mark was quiet for a moment, then laughed again. “You’ve got yourself a deal. I’ll swing by later today.”
Step one of the plan was set. Now, for step two. I grabbed my laptop, found a local mulch delivery service, and called them up, doing my best to mimic Mrs. Johnson’s crisp, no-nonsense tone.
“Hi, this is Katherine Johnson. I need three large truckloads of mulch delivered to my address. Yes, the whole driveway. Thank you.”
I hung up, feeling a strange thrill. My heart pounded in my chest. Was I really doing this?
Yes. Yes, I was.
Then, I left a few messages for my neighbors. While asking for small favors, I made sure to casually mention what Mrs. Johnson had done to Ethan.
Later that afternoon, three giant trucks rolled up and began unloading piles of mulch onto Mrs. Johnson’s driveway. I watched from my porch as the workers carefully emptied their loads, blocking her entire driveway with massive mounds of dark brown mulch. There was no way she was getting her car in tonight.
By then, the neighborhood had started to buzz. I saw a few of the neighbors peeking through their windows, whispering to each other. Word had gotten around about what Mrs. Johnson had done to Ethan, and now, they were seeing my revenge unfold right in front of them.
I could feel the tension building. Everyone was waiting for Mrs. Johnson to come home. So was I.
At around 6:30 p.m., her shiny black car turned the corner and pulled onto our street. As soon as she saw the mulch, her car screeched to a halt. She sat there for a moment, probably in shock. Then she slowly rolled forward, coming to a stop in front of the pile blocking her driveway.
I leaned back in my chair, sipping my tea, and waited.
Mrs. Johnson got out of the car, her face a mix of confusion and anger. She marched over to the hedges first, staring at the strange shapes they’d been trimmed into. She ran her hands through her perfectly styled hair and pulled out her phone, probably to call someone to fix it.
A few of the neighbors had gathered across the street, pretending to chat, but really watching her reaction. They exchanged quiet laughs and glances. Mrs. Johnson looked around, realizing she was being watched, and her eyes landed on me.
She stormed across the street, her heels clicking loudly on the pavement.
“Did you do this?” she snapped, her voice tight with rage.
I smiled, taking another sip of my tea. “Me? I don’t know anything about landscaping or mulch deliveries.”
Her face turned bright red. “This is unacceptable! You think this is funny?”
I set down my cup and stood up, meeting her gaze. “Not as funny as stiffing a 12-year-old out of twenty dollars.”
Her mouth opened, but no words came out. She knew exactly what I was talking about.
“Maybe it’s just the universe teaching you a lesson,” I said, my tone sharp. “Hard work is its own reward, right?”
Mrs. Johnson clenched her jaw, her eyes darting from me to the piles of mulch and then back to the small crowd of neighbors now openly watching. She was trapped. She couldn’t argue with me without looking worse in front of the whole street.
“Fine,” she spat, turning on her heel and stomping into her house. A minute later, she reappeared with a crumpled twenty-dollar bill in her hand.
She shoved it at me, but I didn’t take it. “Give it to Ethan,” I said, stepping aside.
She shot me one last glare, then walked over to where Ethan stood at the edge of the yard. “Here,” she muttered, shoving the bill at him.
Ethan took the money, eyes wide with surprise. “Uh, thanks.”
Mrs. Johnson didn’t say another word as she hurried back to her car. She fumbled with her phone, probably trying to call someone to remove the mulch blocking her driveway. But I wasn’t worried about that. My job was done.
Ethan smiled so wide, I thought his face might split in two.
“Thanks, Mom,” he said, beaming.
“Don’t thank me,” I said, ruffling his hair. “You earned it.”
Mrs. Johnson never asked Ethan for help again. And every time she passed the neighbors, I could see the embarrassment in her eyes. Her hedges grew back, and the mulch eventually disappeared, but the story of how she learned a lesson about honesty and hard work stayed with the neighborhood.
Sometimes, the people who seem the most put-together are the ones who need a good reminder that you don’t mess with a mother protecting her son.
76-yеаr-оld Саndiсе Веrgеn, sаys shе is hаррy bеing ‘fаt’ bесаusе shе ‘livеs tо еаt’
Candice Bergen is a television screen staple. The actress has been in multiple shows and movies over the years, and has earned a solid reputation for herself!
And when critics come to silence her, she shows that she is someone who will not be messed with! She really is someone who lives life on her own terms.
Candice Bergen started off her career as a model, working for magazines likе Vogue. Since then her career has sky-rocketed and she has become a household name. Her role in the show “Murphy Brown” led her to five Emmy wins.
But her iconic role came to her with a few hardships involved. In an interview, she revealed that the role was meant for a younger actress, namely Heather Locklear.
circa 1967: American actor and model Candice Bergen. (Photo by Hulton Archive/Getty Images)
But her audition caught the writer and producer Diane English’s eye who insisted that she was the one for the role.
The show and her role were a huge hit and women all across the country adored her portrayal of a reported. Bergen fondly recalls, “That character gave me permission to be my brattiest, bawdiest self.”
She was nominated for seven Emmys for the role and won five of them. But apparently, after her fifth win, she asked not to be considered for an Emmy again.
The reason for this was because of how the actress’ priorities changed and she decided to live her life differently. In her Memoir “A Fine Romance,” she revealed that she was more focused on herself, talking about how she did not care if she was ‘fat’ because she loved to eat!
She talked candidly in the book about her relationship with food, revealed that in the last 15 years, she has gained about 30 pounds but does not care about it.
She plainly in the book, “Let me just come right out and say it: I am fat. I live to eat. None of this ‘eats to live’ stuff for me.”
She also shаrеd stories of her enjoying decadent meals at dinner parties with her husband, and getting smug looks from other dinner guests but that she pays no mind to them. She wrote, “I am a champion eater. No carb is safe — no fat, either.”
She went on to talk about how women in their 50s are so caught up with trying to maintain their youth that they often forget to enjoy their current selves. She has opted out of trying to maintain her youthful looks or figure, and is very much enjoying her decision to do so.
While her friends focus on their diets, Bergen is clear that she focused on food. She wrote, “dieting is out of my purview. I crave cookies, all the things that dilate my pupils.”
She talked of women she knows who ‘vomit’ out their meals after eating them to maintain their figures, strongly saying that she would never do such a practice.
She wrote, “They maintain their weight by routinely vomiting after major meals consisting of a slice of steak or a filet of fish. I am incapable of this.”
Now the actress is in the second stage of her life, as a mother and grandmother. Her first marriage to French director Louis Malle lasted 15 years, ending upon his dеаth from cancer in 1995. She had her daughter Chloe Malle from that union.
She married Marshal Rose in the 2000s, her second marriage which is still going successfully.
She is now also a grandmother to her daughter’s children. Her grandson Arthur Louis Albert was born in 2020, and her granddaughter, Alice Malle Albert, followed in April 2022.
The actress has publicly talked about the excitement she feels for her daughter on becoming a mother, she said of her daughter, “She is the love of my life.”
She shаrеs sweet moments from her life on social media, and the actress is clearly smitten with being a grandmother to two toddlers.
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