Unfiltered Story #389224

When coming home on a hot summer day, I notice there’s a fire alarm going off, somwhere in our street. After some searching, I find out where it’s coming from. I don’t smell or see anything, also because these people apparently have blocked the view in many ways. I decide not to take any risk and ask their direct neighbours if they know anything. Note that these are row houses, with shared side walls. A woman opens the door.

Woman: ‘Hello.’

Me: ‘Hi, sorry to disturb you, but there seems to be a fire alarm going off in the house next to yours.’

Woman: ‘Oh, yeah, I thought I heard it.’

Me: ‘I don’t think they’re home, do you?’

Woman: ‘No. I’ll call the police. Thanks.’

When we finish our short conversation, her husband appears behind her in the corridor. The woman shuts the door. While I text my wife to tell how it ended, the neighbour’s door suddenly opens again. It’s the husband. He is bald, unshaven, barechest with many tattoos, about 50 or 60 years old. His tone is immediately quite rude and agressive.

Husband: ‘We don’t have anything with our neighbours! And that’s final!’

Me: ‘But there could be a real fire.’

Husband: ‘Just let it go off! If it’s burning for real it’ll be put out!’

Me: ‘…. Okay.’

I went back home, baffled that someone cared more about his privacy then about whether there could be a fire in the house next to his own, which could easily spread to his own house. At home, my wife and I rang the police ourselves.

Me: ‘If this guy prefers to have poor relationships with his neighbours, he manages quite well. I hope that I’ll never meet him again.’