Nothing prepares you for the violation of discovering a hidden camera—especially one aimed at your private space. When I realized my neighbors were watching my every move, I could’ve screamed. Instead, I decided to give them something worth watching.
I recruited my most theatrical friends. “We’re going to make them regret ever hitting ‘record,’” I promised.
The next weekend, my backyard became a stage. We dressed as aliens. We fake-argued about “illicit tomatoes.” Then we staged an elaborate “crime” with ketchup blood and dramatic death scenes.
The police showed up within minutes.
When officers asked questions, I smiled innocently. “Oh, we’re just actors!” Then I pointed to the camera. “But isn’t it weird they filmed us without asking?”
The fallout was swift. Fines. Shame. And soon—moving boxes.
As they drove away, I waved cheerfully. Lesson learned: if you invade my privacy, you’d better be ready for the consequences.
