By Ashleigh / Jan 20, 2023
Few things are more satisfying than having a cold drink on a hot day or finding something you rant at a steep discount. But let’s be honest; there is one thing that is a lot more satisfying than these two things.
This thing is called revenge. A few Redditors have come together and shared their best stories about getting revenge on people that have wronged them, and we’re all ears! Let’s take a look at the best few.
While I was in grade school, we had this teacher that was super germaphobic. No one liked her, so I devised this great plan! Whenever someone got caught playing with something in class, she would take it from them. One day, I found this bouncy ball and rubbed it in the bottom of the urinal. I then took it to class, wrapped it in paper, and played it on my desk. Just as expected, she walked up to my desk and took it.
I had to stop myself from laughing out loud. She would also read the notes people passed in class; knowing this, I passed a note to someone right in front of her desk. She took the note and read, “the ball you just took was in the urinal.” She left the room.
Story Credit: Reddit/[Deleted]
I was living with my friend and another girl I didn’t know all that well. Eventually, we all became excellent friends. One day, I got into a car accident on the freeway and had to move back home. It took a few days before I could get back and pack my things, but when I did, I noticed that many of them were missing. I was so upset. The girl told me that my friend had a few people over and that they probably took my things. When she left, I went into her room and snooped around. I was surprised that she had taken half of what was in my closet and hidden it in her bedroom. She even stole some of my CDs, antique perfume bottles from my grandma, and my socks and bras! I was furious and packed everything into my boxes.
In a rage, I grabbed the clothes she had hanging up and whatever else I could find. I put them in garbage bags and lit them on fire. Later, she called me frantically and said everything was gone. I told her that the people who’d taken my stuff probably took her stuff too. That’s when she realized what had happened. She threatened me and told me she was going to call the authorities. I told her to go ahead because they wouldn’t find anything anyway.
Story Credit: Reddit/udntsay
I’m a male who’s about 5’4 tall and look a lot less muscular than I am. One day, I was in line for priority boarding, and just when it started, this woman standing behind me said, “Excuse me, this is for priority boarding. You need to wait with everyone else.”
Ignoring her, I presented my boarding pass with my active duty ID. My revenge was when the attendant said, “Thank you for your service.” I couldn’t help myself as I turned to the woman behind me, grinned, and said, “thanks!” Before boarding.
Story Credit: Reddit/slytherinpoet
Growing up, we lived in this suburb where I was the only minority in my school. One girl in my class always made these horrible and rude comments, like I wasn’t pretty because of my brown skin. What hurt me was when we played tag one day, the same girl told me that I had to be “it” because my skin color made me look “dirty.” One day, I overheard her bragging that she got straight A’s, and that’s when I had an instant stroke of genius.
For the rest of that school year, I always made sure to hand in my homework right after her so I could take hers and throw it away in the washroom. I was never caught, and she ended the year with a D. When she didn’t get a ribbon at the end of the year, I smirked.
Story Credit: Reddit/DoctorChick
A Genius Idea
I always took a soda to a physics class in high school. This kid sat behind me, and every day, he would wait for me to stand up so he could grab my soda and gulp half of it. Getting sick of it, I thought of the perfect revenge. One day, I finished my soda and filled the bottle with white vinegar. I then put the bottle in my school bag and brought it along the next day.
Once I knew he was watching, I wandered off, leaving him with my drink. He quickly grabbed it and started chugging it. When he realized what he was drinking, he got up and ran to the sink, throwing up in front of everyone. I laughed so hard; the best part was that he had to explain what had happened to the teacher. He never tried retaking my soda.
Story Credit: Reddit/[Deleted]
I was in the second grade in 1992. Every day during recess, my best friends and I would get together and build these intricate sandcastles. The fourth grade would come running outside after lunch after break ended. Every day, without fear, one of them would run up to us and destroy our feat of sand engineering. This happened daily for weeks.
So one day, my friends and I found cinder blocks near the woods close to the playground. We stacked two on top of each other and covered them with sand. We then decorated it to look like all of our other structures. The fourth graders came out, and one ended up with a broken foot after trying to kick it over.
Story Credit: Reddit/wphillip560
A Stinky Situation
When I was in high school, there was this one guy in my grade who always did everything in his power to annoy me. On one occasion, he even hooked up with my girlfriend. I was so angry that I decided to poop into a bottle and let it fester for a month. It got so bad that when I unscrewed the cap, it fizzed.
I poured that into his car’s air conditioner filter on a hot summer day. I watched him get into his car and turn it on. As soon as he did, he turned up his AC and threw up all over himself and his car.
Story Credit: Reddit/alyaz
I had an evil stepmom. When my sister and I were young, she put us on diets because she thought we were “fat.” I tolerated it because I felt bad for my mom. She was working on the road and needed a place where my sister and I could stay. That’s why she left us with my sister’s father. One day, when I was 12, I snapped. I thought of the perfect way to mess with my stepmom. Once a week, she used this costly conditioning treatment on her hair.
She was 56 years old and doing everything she could to preserve her youth. I was at my mom’s for the weekend, and before returning to my stepmom, I snatched a bottle of liquid hair remover. I dumped half of my stepmom’s conditioner down the drain and filled it with the hair remover. I gave it a good shake and put it back where she kept it.
Every week, on the same day, she would use the treatment and leave it in for 30 minutes while she soaked in the bath. The bottle only called for 15 minutes. She would then get out of the tub and take a shower. When she stepped out of the shower that day, almost all of her fancy permed hair was falling off her head.
Story Credit: Reddit/Gothichu
A few years ago, I lived in a former frat mansion, which they had turned into a boarding house. They set it up so that the kitchen, bathrooms, and entertainment rooms are shared between 20 people. We all knew that this one person was eating everyone else’s food, but we couldn’t prove it. So we decided to bake these brownies with chocolate laxatives after work on a Friday. We even left a note. We put it in the fridge and then left for the weekend.
We returned on a Sunday night and found that a third of the brownies had been eaten, and there was no toilet paper. We all laughed about it. The only person who wasn’t laughing was eating all our food. He then left a passive-aggressive note that said he was sick of people taking other people’s food too.
Story Credit: Reddit/DarrenEdwards
This happened about five years ago. My Grandma was getting old, late 80s/early 90s. She had one wish, to not pass in a senior home. Easily done as my Grandpa sold some assets way back when, then invested the money and let it ride for 30+ years; he never touched it and collected a pension. Way back when my Grandpa passed (about 10 years before this), my Grandma appointed my dad, this awful aunt and my uncle as the Trustees of the trust.
Basically the trusted advisors for her and her care for the foreseeable future. All was well in the beginning, then my dad (Willy) moved further away and couldn’t take care of the day-to-day upkeep as the Trustee and to see that my grandma was ok. My aunt (Rebecca) told her that she and my uncle (Fred, who lived in Arizona) could take over and all would be fine. It was fine for a while.
A few times my dad went back to visit and noticed my Grandma didn’t always have overnight care, or that her mail wasn’t picked up and the driveway wasn’t plowed. She also lost her cable TV and newspaper subscription. My dad figured it just lapsed, so he had the services put back on. My dad also noticed my Grandma was eating moldy food at times because her truck was sold and she had no transportation.
She basically just chilled at the house alone and did crossword puzzles. The craziest part of this is that my aunt only lived two miles from my Grandma, but my Grandma told my dad she saw Aunt Rebecca once a week on Saturday for about one hour. As with the elderly and age, my Grandma eventually passed. She did get her wish and was able to go in her own home.
Upon her passing, things started to get real interesting. Once the probate lawyer got her children (my dad, aunt, uncle and another estranged aunt, Becky) around the table, some shady business started to come out. My Aunt Rebecca asked that everyone just forgo any audit or paperwork and they just sell the house (for around $400K), and divide up the remaining account balance of roughly $400K.
So just signing on the line, each sibling was to get a check for $200K, not too bad of an inheritance. My dad, however, thought that was somewhat a little rushed. He said at the time that he wanted to wait because my Grandma’s house was easily in the $600K range based on size and location. My aunt exploded in his face, cursing at him and calling him all kinds of names because he was unwilling to sign the assets then and there.
She basically wanted a quick close while everyone looked the other way. My dad ended up leaving the room after the screaming and the deal wasn’t signed that day. It took nearly six months before another appointment and they were all back at the table. The thing is though, when you are a Trustee and the person passes, the funds and access to financial accounts are all under heavy scrutiny until all beneficiaries are made aware and sign the final papers.
At the next meeting, my dad went in there with no intention to sign the deal. He got his brother (my uncle Fred) to agree that they audit the entire account(s) going back five years. When they demanded this again at the meeting with the lawyer, my aunt ended up arguing that a forensic audit would cost $5K and it’s a waste, like what difference does it make?
Two beneficiaries requested it, though, so it was what was going to happen. The audit report showed up about three months later. Here is where it gets really good. My dad began looking over the audit report and saw it was full of holes, like excessive monthly food costs for a 90-year-old lady. Payments made for car services for a car my grandma no longer had.
Many different things in there that just didn’t add up. My dad asked me to give the audit a second look, so I spent a Saturday night going over it, and here is some crazy stuff I found (and alerted my dad about): Costco monthly food costs of $1,100-$2,000 for the last four years. Telephone bills for sixe cell phones (Grandma had a home phone only).
Gasoline for a truck my grandma didn’t have for like four years, and easily $400/month. House repairs paid to my aunt’s husband who owned a construction business. Some of the house repairs were like $16K for a new roof, new garage doors, home security system which she didn’t have, etc., and all a inflated prices. Grandma paid for my aunt to go to Europe twice on vacation.
My grandma was paying my estranged Aunt Becky a stipend of $2K a month for the last five years, as well as her deadbeat son for $2,500. Every month they were paid. All grandkids were to be paid a lump sum of $10K upon their 30th birthday as that is when the $50 check from Grandma stopped for all grandkids. Guess who was paid out? Rebecca’s kids and my estranged aunt’s kids, but not me or my siblings.
My grandma gave loans to my Aunt Rebecca for her husband’s construction business in return for equity in the company, which amounted to nothing. These loans totaled about $200K over three years, right around when the housing bust happened. They also sold her assets like jewelry and what not for cash, because some big ticket items simply vanished from her house.
Armed with all this, the next probate meeting was interesting. In the time between my Grandma’s passing and the third probate meeting, my aunt’s construction business filed for bankruptcy so that $200K in equity grandma had simply vanished. The probate lawyer was also somewhat concerned and makes it obvious that this was a breach of fiduciary duty, where my aunt could actually get real prison time.
After this, the negotiations were much more favorable. My aunt got nothing, literally zero, my other aunt only received $25K after all the stipend payments. My father and uncle shared the rest after all grandkids received the $10K payout. The house sold to the first offer for $520K. That was the regular revenge for the treacherous witch who ripped off Grandma and had her eating moldy food. Here is the professional revenge.
My aunt probably felt pretty bad that she couldn’t supplement her lifestyle with Grandma’s money anymore, but that was the least of her worries. Since she tried to rip me off for $10K, I took it personally. I don’t care how tough you are, the IRS is the scariest thing that can happen to a person. Nobody wants to have their money forcibly removed.
I did a little research, photocopied my documents, had them notarized and sent off the info to the IRS. I felt like it went nowhere, then maybe 18 months later I was notified and asked to come to the IRS building for an appointment in my city. The agent went over all the details. Basically, what they found in their research, and then they asked for a sworn statement.
It turns out my aunt didn’t declare something like $1.2M in additional income over five years, and as such she owed the IRS around $420K plus penalties. There was no way she was going to pay that on a teachers’ pension and after her husband bankrupted his business. Her house was sold, her vehicles sold, and they left the state. Now my aunt and uncle live in a depressing desert town.
The IRS then paid me around $60K about three months after the appointment. She should have paid that $10K.
Story Credit: Reddit/[Deleted]
A Well-Baked Plan
I used to buy small treat bags of gourmet cookies from a local bakery a few years ago. I would eat maybe one a day, but they were a treat for me. Back then, my husband and I had a retail store and a few friends who would hang out at the store, since it was kind of a lounge too. Well, my husband and our friends would just help themselves.
But they had no self-control, and they wouldn’t even ask for some. I would buy the bag of cookies for me, and they’d be gone the next day. I would try to hide them but couldn’t. So, I bagged up a bunch of dog treats that the local pet food store had that looked very, very close to cookies. They were all about the same size as the ones I bought from the bakery.
I placed them where all the guys could see them and waited for the fun. Yep, they tried them…asked if they were a bad batch or maybe the bakery missed an ingredient or two in the dough. I waited until they tried to eat more than three each, then told them they were dog treats. They never touched my cookies again.
Story Credit: Reddit/[Deleted]
The Bride Wore Blue
Last summer I was at a cousin’s wedding. His bride and her family had been close with ours since before I was born, and the couple had known each other since they were toddlers, so it was a particularly exciting event for both sides of the family. However, after the ceremony was over and the party had only just started, one of the bridesmaids decided to announce her own engagement.
The attention was immediately taken away from the newlyweds and brought to the bridesmaid (who I’ll call Sarah) and her equally-smug fiancé. My cousin’s wife (I’ll call her Emma) didn’t make a scene or utter a single negative word about Sarah. She looked like she was on the verge of tears, but she kept grinning and acted very happy for the other couple.
This was unusual, as Emma is typically quite confrontational and speaks her mind no matter the consequences. This was a warning sign. Sarah later picked Emma to be the maid of honor at her own wedding, which took place last weekend. I wasn’t there for it, but my cousin sent me some of the best bits on snapchat and explained the whole situation. This is where the fun begins.
Emma’s two much-younger sisters were the flower girls at Sarah’s wedding. At the very last moment, Emma switched out the white petals in their baskets to blue ones she had secretly brought with her. She told her sisters not to say anything about it or let the bride see them until it was time to scatter them down the aisle. Sarah looked very confused upon seeing the blue petals (which didn’t coordinate whatsoever with her theme), but of course she didn’t say anything about it in the moment.
Most of Sarah’s other bridesmaids were also Emma’s friends, had attended Emma’s wedding, and were in on Emma’s scheme. At the reception, Emma’s sisters and the other bridesmaids were tight-lipped when Sarah began demanding to know why there were blue petals. The wedding planner ended up getting a lot of flack for not checking the flower girls’ baskets before they walked down the aisle.
Finally, it was time for the speeches. The speeches took place in front of a massive screen, displaying a loop of photos with Sarah and her husband, which had been compiled by Emma. Emma took the remote that controlled the presentation screen and at first she showed some pre-approved humorous photos of Sarah with Emma and other friends to facilitate a couple of light-hearted jokes.
Then, at the very end, Emma said to Sarah that she must be wondering why there were blue petals instead of the white ones originally planned. That was when Emma displayed the last slide from her presentation, and jaws dropped. Emma announced in front of everyone that she was five months pregnant, and that she’d just discovered the baby was a boy, hence the blue petals. The last slide? Her ultrasound picture.
There were shocked yells and gasps, Sarah had a fit, but those involved in the scheme cheered so loudly that I sincerely regret watching the Snapchat recordings with headphones. Apparently, Sarah had been very nasty to her bridesmaids before, driving several of them away and forcing the others to pay ridiculous amounts of money for dresses.
Emma and my cousin were eventually thrown out of the party, but they were all smiles. Sarah’s fuming mother went to confront her outside, and Emma retorted with, “Gentle, gentle! I’m pregnant!” I reckon Sarah doesn’t speak to the majority of those bridesmaids anymore.
Story Credit: Reddit/yazdon
All That Glitters
I work for a construction company and we do remodeling on homes. We have a rule here that we get to keep anything we find hidden behind the walls. We hired this guy (we really needed a worker badly) who was a total jerk from day one. I’ve been working for this company for five years and this guy has only been doing construction for one year after he got fired from his accounting job.
Anyways, he would always make fun of my clothes and my accent, and one day he went too far by telling my boss about my private Instagram account pictures. He got on my phone and looked through my Instagram page and showed my boss pictures of me with weed. Joke’s on him; my boss is my friend from eight years ago and this wasn’t a surprise to him.
Still, I was so mad that he violated my privacy—so I made a plan to screw him right over. He was the kind of guy who would always come in late and complain that trains or traffic is why he was always late. One day, I overheard him saying that if he won the lottery he would quit this job for not getting the “respect” he deserves.
You know, because you have to earn your respect here. So a few days later, I bought some fake gold coins online and put them in a metal box I found at the antique store. Then I waited for a chance to hide it in a wall. Luckily, I did not have to wait long. The day he found the coins, it seemed like it was his best day ever.
The first thing he did when he opened the box was call my boss a loser and quit immediately on the spot. He said, “screw this place, I’m rich.” Little did he know, that was the best day of my life. After he quit, my boss told us that he was going to fire him anyways for always showing up late…I wish I could see the look on his face when he finds out the gold coins are fake. Best $40 I spent in my entire life.
Story Credit: Reddit/lrze403
In college, I lived in “The Gay House” with five other guys in a six-bedroom house. One fall afternoon, I came home from class to find my favorite roommate Josh crying in the kitchen. He had just found out something earth-shattering: His boyfriend Kevin was living a double life. They’d been dating for three months. Kevin was a nice, cute guy.
He came to our house parties and movie nights, and we all liked him enough. He told us he was closeted because his filthy rich parents would cut him off if he came out like his older brother. Even though most of the house was fully out, we respected him and were sympathetic to his situation. We lived in the Bible Belt.
“Kevin” wasn’t even his real name. It was Brad. He was engaged to a cheerleader, and his best friends were a group of jerks who had no idea he was queer. Usually, I could have forgiven him as I’d forgiven worse, but he was needlessly cruel to Josh when he decided to break up with him. He laughed at Josh the whole time.
He said he was only using him for his body and he couldn’t stand being with his gay friends and to never call him again. That lying jerk preyed on my friend and actually enjoyed using and hurting him. I decided then that he needed to be confronted. As a tall guy at 6’6 and 220 pounds, I always took my size for granted.
People never tried me when I was in drag despite living in the Bible belt. I went with Josh to confront “Kevin,” but as we walked up to his apartment, it was clear that he was hosting a party, which wouldn’t have been the best time for us to confront him. But that was the moment when my stroke of evil genius kicked in.
We went back home and came up with a plan. Josh had several of “Kevin’s” naughty pictures as well as his clothes. While one roommate was photocopying the pictures, another was creating a website with a giant humiliating picture of him and was printing out “invitations” to the site. I was dressing in drag and got ready.
I wore an old prom dress with blue sequins that were falling off. It cut off right below my underwear, making the whole outfit especially naughty. The ratty blonde wig was from an old costume, and I had six-inch heels size 16 that I found at a sketchy-looking store a few weeks before. I painted myself with way too much makeup but kept my stubble and my leg hair.
We stuffed his clothes, the invitations, and the printed pictures into a large purse, and I went off for the party. But I made one stop at the store to buy a $20 fake engagement ring. I think I deserve an Oscar for my performance that night. His face looked priceless as a seven-foot drag queen barged into his apartment screaming and crying.
The whole place froze as I stormed past everyone into the kitchen to find him and his fiancé. They were by the back door staring in utter shock. I was sure he didn’t recognize me. I sobbed and begged him to come back to me. I described everything I loved about him including all his marks near his junk. My make-up smeared tears turned angry as I started detailing all his secret kinks.
Then finally, his fiancé started questioning me. At that point, I pulled his clothes out of the purse and threw them at him. She immediately recognized them. Then I pulled out the pictures and handed them to her before I burst into uncontrollable sobbing and stormed out of the kitchen and through the living room partiers and toward the front door.
At the door, I stopped, took a long swig from the bottle I brought, and threw a giant stack of “party” invitations all over the place. They had the worst picture of all—him making the “sexy face,” wearing the most scandalous undergarments. The invitation was to some weird website my roommate created to out “Kevin.” The site included a forum for other people to share ways he lied to them and discuss how much they hated him. Before I left, I did a dramatic final spin.
I then removed and held up the fake ring for everyone to see. I pointed to the other side of the apartment at his fiancé and said, “I see he gave you one of these too!” I threw it on the yard, stormed out, and went home. Later, the roommates made sure to put a website invitation on every car in his apartment complex. Nobody in the gay community saw or heard from that guy again.
Though there were several rumors including one that said he transferred to a shittier school far away.
Story Credit: Reddit/[Deleted]
The Party Pooper
While walking to my gate at LAX, I noticed a woman whose dog was in the middle of the waiting area doing its business. The woman was loudly face-timing with her back to the dog, so I assumed she didn’t notice. That was likely the thought shared by the gentleman who tried to get her attention. “Excuse me, miss?” he said, in a polite tone.
The woman glared at him. “Your dog,” he sheepishly continued, pointing to the mid-poop pup. The woman rolled her eyes and went back to face time as the man slinked away, seemingly embarrassed. “Some people,” she bellowed to her face-time companion with no hint of irony, “are just so rude.” When her dog finished, the woman started walking away, leaving everything right on the airport floor. Another woman tried to stop her.
“You’re not going to clean that up?” she asked, as shocked as the rest of us were. “They have people for that,” the offender replied, disappearing into the crowd, as much as someone yelling into their phone can disappear into a crowd. I stood near the pile and warned people to walk around it while someone else got a maintenance worker’s attention.
No one said anything—we were so shocked that anyone could be that horrible. When I got to my gate, the woman was there, too. Great, we were both going to Tokyo. When I travel abroad, I get embarrassed by other Americans doing things one hundred times less embarrassing than leaving animal poop on the floor of an airport. To make it worse, her dog was now barking at everyone who walked by.
I have nothing against people flying with their dogs. I do it often. But it is a privilege I take seriously. My dog is well-trained and behaves better than most people. He certainly behaves better than that jerk. Speaking of jerks, there is a pet relief area inside LAX, past security, just two gates away from where The Party Pooper let her dog go to town.
It didn’t matter. She was the type of person to litter three feet from an empty garbage can. While her dog barked at the world, the woman had moved from face-timing with no headphones to listening to music with no headphones. I don’t like to throw around the word “sociopath,” but I don’t know how else I could explain just how selfish and terrible of a person she was.
I’d bet her car was somewhere in long-term parking, parked across three spots with paint on the bumper from the child’s bike she hit without leaving a note. Everyone else tried to ignore her, sitting as far away from her as they could. I am not everyone else. I sat down right next to the horrible woman. “Are you going to London on business?” I said.
“I’m going to Tokyo,” she responded gruffly, annoyed that I interrupted her DJing. “Oh, I said. Then you better hurry. That flight got moved to gate 53C. This is the flight to London.” I figured I could give her a little moment of panic as payback for how terribly she was treating everyone. I didn’t predict what would happen next. She grabbed her bags and her dog in a huff, and stormed out of the gate without even checking.
She was so self-involved, she didn’t notice that the monitor at our gate still said Tokyo and almost everyone at the gate was Japanese. Based on her actions, she believed me that the fight had been moved, so she’s also a jerk for not thanking me. “Some people,” I thought as I watched her rush away from the gate without stopping her, “are just so rude.”
The flight to Tokyo was at gate 69A, so the 53 gates were on the other side of the next terminal. And I felt guilty knowing she probably berated some poor clerk who had to explain to her that there was no gate 53C. I don’t know if she made it back to this flight before we took off or not, but I didn’t see her board and I didn’t hear her dog.
Her missing her flight was not my original intention, but it would be a fine punishment for her being so rude to everyone and making a low-paid stranger clean poop off the floor. What makes me wonder if I went too far is the knowledge that Delta only has one flight to Tokyo each day. Whoops. Maybe she can re-book on another airline. I hear they have people for that.
Story Credit: Reddit/thehofstetter
My babysitter was the sweetest until she waved bye to my parents and shut the door. It was summer and hot with Georgia humidity being what it is. I was stuck for a weekend with her and her bratty daughter, Tracy. She was slapper always going for my face with either a clawed hand or a mouthful of saliva.
She was a year older than me and had the benefit of mommy always taking her side and then punishing me for fighting back. I finally decided after being spat on all morning that I couldn’t take it anymore. So, I spat back inducing a scream from the mean girl that would make one believe I’d slashed her face. Her mother came rushing out from the rear bedroom where she usually read romance novels and didn’t actually babysit.
Her daughter spun a tale about how I just “out of nowhere” spat on her. And she obviously didn’t spit on me! I’d just done it without provocation! Having heard enough, her mom yelled at me to go outside. So, I did as I was told. The babysitter said that she was going to let us watch a movie, but since I “wanted to act ugly,” it was going to be just the two of them.
They were going to sit in the back room with the AC on blast watching a movie while I sat outside alone in the hot backyard. I could see through the window. I saw them cuddled up while the movie played. I strained to hear the music and the dialogue but couldn’t make out much. The window was filthy. After about 20 sweaty minutes, I couldn’t fight the thirst anymore.
I rapped on the window lightly, and they both jumped. Angrily turning to me, Tracy stood close to the window. I mimicked drinking something and asked if I could come in and have some water. “I’ll bring you some in a little bit!” the mom shouted and closed the curtains so that I could only make out blocky shapes and the dim, blinking light that was the TV.
And they turned the volume up really loud in case I’d wanted to protest. I hopped off the trash can and turned my attention to the old dog that really didn’t like people anymore. I stared at her sniffing around and watched her take a watery poop in the grass. Then it struck me. I plucked some big leaves from a tree and picked it up. I walked carefully and quietly to the back of the AC unit.
I smeared that poop all over the grates that I assumed air filtered through to get into the room. I was right. It didn’t take too long for them to notice. Tracy got up and looked over the bed as though she might find a fresh pile on the floor. Seeing nothing, she laid back down, only to get up again a little later. She gave the floor a more thorough look.
I could hardly contain my glee, and I really didn’t have to since the volume was up so high. They stood and hit pause while I ran to the broken swing set as if I’d been there since the curtains had shut. The babysitter called for me and, for a moment, I thought I was in trouble. Instead, a fat hand with a cup of ice water poked out of a sliding glass door, and I drank it with an unusual amount of satisfaction.
She let me come back in not too long after that. I asked if we could watch the movie. She bitterly said, “no.” She had to bring her pillows and stuff to read her book in the living room.
Story Credit: Reddit/[Deleted]
Cooking With Gas
Several years ago, I lived in the northwest coast of Puerto Rico. It’s a very relaxed area, with tons of good restaurants and lots of green space. My apartment was on a cliff, not far from the water. The electric infrastructure was a bit old, so when it was rainy season, we’d lose power for a few hours at a time. Not a big deal—I had a gasoline generator.
Enter a new neighbor. He lived two doors down from me, and drove an amazing custom Chevy van from the 70s. All it needed was an epic airbrushed Wizard on the side. Sadly though, that’s where anything good about him ended. I caught him taking the gas out of an orange jug I’d leave outside in case the generator ran out. Although I saw him do it, and called him out on it, he denied it and played stupid.
So after the second time, I took all of the gas in the jug, filled the generator with it, and put the rest in my car. I then went to the nearest gas station that had diesel and filled it up with diesel. A few days later, I am woken up by a tow truck backing up to pick up his now disabled van. I looked out the window and you could see the anger on his face. He moved out the next month, and from what I gathered from talking to people in the community, he was a general piece of trash human and what happened to him was deserved.
Eyeing The Prize
On April fool’s day when I was seven and my sister was five, I had a master plan that involved Legos. We played with those tiny bricks for hours. Sometimes we built things. Sometimes we destroyed things. Sometimes our arguments dissolved into us throwing Legos at each other. We’d already been in trouble the day before for it.
My mom told us that we could take an eye out. So, since my little sister could scream or cry in an instant, I took a long brick, slid it between my fingers, then covered my eye with my hand. My sister said it looked like it was really in my eye, so she screamed for our mom. Then I started screaming. My mom rushed over. She tried pulling my hand away to check on it, but I kept my hand on my eye a few seconds longer.
I caught my sister’s eye, and after she nodded, I whipped my hand away, and we both yelled, “April Fool’s Day!” Before we could finish saying “day,” my mom smacked us both with one hand across the cheek with just one move.
Story Credit: Reddit/[Deleted]
You Are What You Eat
A couple of things about me that made it really suck to have a food thief: I have a lot of food allergies, so I can’t just get lunch at the cafeteria or at a nearby restaurant. I have a new baby, who I’m breastfeeding, and who I pump for when I’m at work. You know how hungry pregnant people are? Yeah, the caloric requirement for breastfeeding is 100-200 calories higher. I am always hungry.
Because I have a new baby, half the time I don’t manage to show up at work with a lunch. I either run out of time to pack one, or if I did remember, I leave it on the counter. My solution to all of this was to leave lots of non-perishable snacks in my office. And also a lot of candy, because I also have a three-year-old and therefore work is the only place I can shovel Skittles into my mouth without a little hand extending into my field of vision and a little voice saying “pwease?”
These were snacks that were specifically free of my allergens. Some were also specialty foods because of this. The type of specialty food that just doesn’t taste as good as food that contains the allergen, and also costs twice as much. Because I’m not getting a lot of sleep right now, I deserve nice things. So, because I’m not getting a lot of sleep right now, when I first came back from maternity leave, assembled my snack hoard, and started having things go missing, I genuinely thought I was just losing my mind.
Boxes of candy were running out faster than I thought I was eating them. I’d come in in the morning and things wouldn’t be where I’d left them. At one point, I brought a bag of chips to work, folded the rim of the bag down so I wasn’t plunging my arm elbow-deep into a grease pit, and then put a bag clip on it when I went home. When I came in the next morning the bag was unrolled and re-clipped.
I went “Wow, I must be more tired than I thought,” rolled the bag back down, and the next morning it was unrolled again. Just little things like that, almost every day, that made me go “Wow, the post-baby brain is worse than I thought!” And then. And then! Then I got the flu. I got sick, and I was out for a whole week. Left behind at the office was an almost-full box of Enjoy Life cookies, which are not enjoyable but are free of all major allergens, and are also $5 a box for, like, 12 sad little sand pies with some cinnamon on top.
I ate one row of these cookies, and then I was out of the office for a week. For one week, I was not eating any of my snack hoard. But someone else was. Because I came back twork, opened my box of cookies, and found one. There was one single, solitary cookie left. And, on further examination, the one box of candy that had been opened was nowhere to be found, and on top of that the thief had done me the courtesy of opening a new box for me, except that they actually followed the “push here to open” instructions instead of just ripping one end of the box open like I do.
The combination of these two things—the sheer freaking audacity it takes to open a new box so you can continue taking from someone, on top of the consumption of almost a whole box specialty cookies that aren’t even GOOD—enraged me enough that, after going to my boss and getting some vague promises about checking if the security cameras in my wing of the building are functional or not (what??) I went straight to Amazon and ordered myself a nanny cam.
Not for my baby. For my snack hoard. Conveniently, it arrived the day before Valentine’s day. I set it up on top of a file cabinet looking down at my desk. On the desk, I laid out a fantastic spread of snacks. I got all my thief’s favorites, and then I took it one step further. I bought myself a Valentine heart, broke the seal to make it more inviting, and left it out on my desk.
The next morning, I came in to some very obvious snack carnage. My thief had slowly been getting more brazen (again, who OPENS a new box of something?? And opens it DIFFERENTLY than the person they are taking from??) but this was just on another level. Individually wrapped things had been dumped out of their boxes. Bits of packaging had been thrown away. And, yup; they’d eaten some of the Valentine candy.
For shame, office thief! Don’t you know that’s from someone who loves me?? I played back the video. All was quiet throughout most of the evening, and I was just watching the shadows lengthen as the sun slowly set through the hallway window. And then! Shortly before midnight! The night janitor arrived! And went right ahead and took a 12-minute break in my office, sitting in my chair, eating my food.
I started taking screenshots. I got him shoveling candy into his mouth with full palm-to-lips intensity. Pouring things out onto the desk to pick his favorite flavors. Not even bothering to put them back where he found them. And yes. Eating my Valentine’s candy. Screenshots went directly to my boss in an email. I went directly to my boss’s door to hover and grin and ask if he’d read my email.
And I got assurances of a strongly worded email to the cleaning company and the barring of this particular employee from our place of business. I was also, tactfully, asked to please take my unauthorized spy camera home, which I did. I thought this was over, but it wasn’t. One day, the girl who works the concession stand dropped by to thank me. Apparently the food thief would start his shift just as she was closing down for the night, and would try to get free coffee in that “creepy guy” way.
And then one of the reception staff came by with the same sentiments. I’d never met the guy face-to-face, but apparently, as a woman, it was not a fun experience to have. I’d shown my screenshots to a few co-workers and word had spread fast. I worked an earlier shift, so I didn’t recognize him, but people whose shifts overlapped with his did.
I hadn’t told my husband about what I’d done because when I came home raging about the blatant theft that had gone on while I’d been sick, his only response had been “You really shouldn’t be leaving food at work, then.” But, when I came home with the nanny cam and explained where and why I’d gotten it, his reaction surprised me.
“You know, I think this is the first time I’ve seen you stand up for yourself. I’m proud of you.” Y’know what? I’m proud of me too!
Story Credit: Reddit/[Deleted]
I was sharing a dorm in college with two of my best friends from high school. I love them like brothers, but we could be jerks to one another. Unfortunately, Chris crossed a line and unleashed the fury within me when he popped the washroom lock then snapped a polaroid picture of me while I was using the john one night. He then tossed the picture out the window of our 13th-floor form for anybody to find.
In the days that followed, I’d learned to pop the lock on our shower door and also set about getting several pitchers of water to nearly freezing temperatures, just cold enough that ice started to form on the surface. I bided my time. I was gonna get him back, and it was gonna be glorious. Eventually, Chris went to take one of his weekly “spa showers” where he would crank the hot water on full and just sit under it for an hour.
I waited for him to hit the hottest temperature then rallied the rest of my dormmates, handed out pitchers of ice water, quietly popped the lock, and opened the door to the shower. In hindsight, we probably could have caused serious harm by dumping ice water on him when he was as hot as he was, but at the time, hearing him scream like a little girl and fall in the shower was well worth it.
Story Credit: Reddit/Sageypie
Yeah, That’s Not How This Works
We don’t own a car and live at the end of a cul-de-sac, and I have people use my driveway all the time to turn around. It’s not a huge deal to me, a little annoying when they compact the snow and it’s harder to shovel, but whatever. One of my neighbors had a ride service come pick up their child every day. The van would park in my spot and begin honking at like 8 am (I worked nights at the time).
Half the time he’d be half parked on my grass. I told my neighbor that I don’t overly mind my spot being used, but not if the guy is going to honk like that every morning and especially not if he’s going to drive over what little lawn I have every time. She spoke with him, he ignored it. I spoke with him and got “what’s your problem man, it’s not like you’re using it.”
To which I repeated that I don’t mind him using it if he stays off my grass and doesn’t honk every morning. Apparently suggesting he wait until the kid notices he’s there or, god forbid, he have to drag his butt out of the car to knock on a door was just ridiculous and inhumane of me. So I left a recycle bin at the foot of my driveway. He just ran over it.
I called the dispatch for the ride service and was told they are sub contractors and technically self-employed but they will pass along the message. I wake up the next day to pounding on my door. Dude is ANGRY. Him: “How dare you call my boss you stupid piece of trash! What is wrong with you? Me: “Well it’s quite simple, you were told not to use my driveway if you were going drive on my lawn and wake me up every morning. Now get off my doorstep.”
Him: “I’ll sue you if I lose my job because of you.” Me: “You’ve been warned. Don’t trespass on my driveway or property again!” Dude storms off in a huff spouting curses. So this happened on a Thursday, the kids had a PD day the next day, and it’s supposed to be one of those delightful Canadian weekends where it drops to like -40 Celsius.
For my American friends, -40 is where Celsius and Fahrenheit meet up, so it’s freaking cold. So that night, I grabbed one of my more beat up plastic garbage bins, made sure to plug all the holes with a generous amount of duct tape, stuck a sign on it that read, “private property, driveway not for public use” and proceeded to fill it to the brim with water.
Now, before anyone thinks I’m a jerk willing to potentially endanger the other kids in the car, I’d like to point out that my neighbor’s kid is the first to be picked up, so it’s just him in the car. Queue Monday morning. He sees the garbage can, backs up a bit more, and defiantly charges the can as if to teach me a lesson. He then proceeds to cause some pretty serious damage to the front end of his car. Dude gets out fuming, calls the authorities and comes pounding on my door, screaming about how I’m going to buy him a new car and that I’m about to go to the slammer.
Officer: “So let me make sure I understand this situation. He asked you not to park here if you couldn’t refrain from honking, then warned you not to park here and put up a barrier. Now you expect him to be charged and pay for damages you caused yourself to your vehicle in an attempt to destroy his own personal property?” I will never forget the look on his face when the officer said, “Yeah, that’s not how this works.”
He then turned to me and asked if I wanted to pursue charges for him damaging my personal property. I just gave him the biggest grin I could muster and said, “Nah, I think we’re good.” I then went back inside to enjoy a morning coffee while watching him from my kitchen window as he paced back and forth in the cold waiting for a tow truck and having to call the company he worked for to explain why they needed to send out another driver to complete his route.
Story Credit: Reddit/[Deleted]
Back when I was little, we lived across from a popular public pool on a tiny street, so parking was premium. We had issues with people parking across our driveway, but we were close with the pool owner and would get him to ask over the loudspeakers, and whoever parked the car would come over, apologize to us, and move.
But one day after coming home from school, I saw somebody had the audacity to not park in our driveway but inside our garage. My dad was dumbfounded. We went over to make the usual announcement. Then this woman in her 30s came stomping over in a huff and said she would fix it when she had finished her exercise routine. So, my dad just parked behind her, and we went out for dinner for a few hours.
She was mad, but she didn’t learn her lesson and kept doing it two to four times a month! Eventually, my dad stopped caring about parking her in and let her out at his leisure. It wasn’t our problem just hers. She even called officers on us. They just told her not to park on private property and then wrote her a citation. Then one morning, she had the gall to park us in our own driveway. Dad had had enough.
He made sure she was doing her laps, grabbed a coat hanger, jimmied the door open, dismantled the passenger seat, and left it on the curb by the pool exit. He then waited on our front deck, sipping his tea as she came out of the pool to get her car. She walked by the passenger seat without a second glance. Scowling at him as she got in her car, she did a double-take as she went to put her bag down.
She freaked out, realizing that my dad had had access to her car the whole time. She ran over, grabbed her seat, put it in the trunk, and drove off. We never heard from her again.
Story Credit: Reddit/[Deleted]
Dad Of The Year
So, my daughter, who was about eight at the time, was REALLY into Minecraft, as most kids are these days. She was also desperately wanting to join the YouTube/Let’s Play culture, so I had installed some screen recording software that would let her make videos of the games she was playing so she could later upload them to YouTube.
Anyways, one day I’m minding my own business when I hear her quietly sniffling over on the computer. I asked her what was wrong, but she didn’t want to tell me so I let it go, but decided to keep on eye on her. A few minutes later I discovered what was happening. Someone was harassing not only her, but also all the other kids playing on whatever server she was on.
This kid was saying stuff about how he was going to harm my eight-year-old daughter (she told him how old she was hoping he would stop), how he was going to hack into her IP and take her information, swearing profusely (remember, this is a game for kids), etc etc. By this time I had gotten my fiancée involved, and she was also obviously quite upset at what this kid was doing.
We then realized that our daughter had been recording the entire incident, and a plan began to form. I started by googling the kid’s username. There were several hits immediately, the most interesting of which involved a page where he was publicly applying to be a mod for a server on Minecraft. I was able to learn a lot about this little idiot.
He claimed to be 15, likes hockey, used to live in Toronto but now lives in Florida. But the big discovery was easily his Skype contact info; it was literally firstname.lastname. I know your name now, you jerk. So I head over to Facebook and search for the name. Nothing. Hmmmm. On a hunch, I searched for just the last name, while narrowing my results to only the state of Florida.
Several dozen hits. Hmmm. So I have to start combing through each one, until I find what I was looking for: A middle-aged man with the same last name, whose profile indicates he was born in Toronto and now lives in Florida. I FOUND YOUR DAD, YOU LITTLE JERK. So I sent him a message on Facebook, asking if he had a son named firstname who goes by his username on Minecraft.
Dad confirmed I had the right guy. So my fiancée begins telling the dad everything that his son was saying to my daughter, and we sent him the recorded video as proof. Radio silence for a few days. Then we got the message back. This jerk had his computer taken away from him for the entire summer. He had also been lying about his age; he was only 11, I think.
His parents were livid with him, and he surely hated the next few months of his life. No one screws with my daughter.
Story Credit: Reddit/DrRaveNinja
The Smell Of The Ball
In high school, my friend David’s girlfriend cheated on him. But she scratched the car he worked hard for and broke his laptop after he found out. A week later, she threw a big raging party that got a bit out of control. Earlier that day, David and I were with four of our friends eating at Taco Bell and began scheming. We discussed holding in our bowels until the party and releasing them all over her house.
At first, it was all a joke, but the more we talked, the more serious we were about going through with it. David didn’t join us as that would’ve risked us from getting into the party. He did contribute his bowels in a plastic bag. I hid the bag under my shirt and put it behind the fridge. Brett and I upper decked, went in the tank, the two toilets on the main floor. It was nasty.
Matt brought pliers to pull up a corner of the carpet in a bedroom and went there. We’re not sure whose bedroom it was. Justin was more adventurous than the rest of us. He hopped into the small utility closet with the central air conditioner and went in there. He told us that he was able to squirt his fudge onto the air filter. The effect of wafting poop was instant and moved the party to the backyard.
I’m not sure our plan was genius, but it was evil and for our friend. It felt good.
Story Credit: Reddit/jamesey10
Droning On And On
About six or seven months ago, my neighbor got a drone. I don’t mind people having hobbies, but for some reason he insisted on flying like the biggest jerk possible. He would hover in front of other houses and windows, try to “race” cars going down the road, and worst of all he had a habit of flying his drone in my fenced backyard.
He would start buzzing over my dog, diving low just over my dog’s head before circling around to do it again. My dog isn’t small, he’s about 70lbs and a Malamute, but the drone terrified him, and I was worried what would happen if it hit him. I asked my neighbor several times to please not fly in my yard and explained that it was scaring my dog. His answer made my blood boil.
He basically told me to get lost and laughed in my face. When it still continued, I called the authorities. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much they could do other than ask him to please not fly over my house and property. Finally, in late December it happened—my dog got tired of his torments and managed to catch the drone right as it was diving towards him.
He shredded the drone, and the thing was just a jumbled mess of wires and plastic. Neighbor was ANGRY. He stormed over to my house swearing and threatening me, which I ignored. A week later, I got a summons to small claims court. He wanted $900 for the cost of his drone and an additional $300 for supposedly denying him access to his property.
See, the drone sat in my yard for a couple hours before it was retrieved. Screw that. He could have hurt my dog. I don’t have kids or a girlfriend, I just have my dog who is my best friend for the past seven years. That dog has moved with me three times, was there when I graduated college, saw me buy my first house and my first new car.
I love my dog. But turns out, him suing me was the best thing to ever happen. When we got to small claims court, the judge basically laughed away his claims that I had intentionally trained my dog to attack his drone. But little did he know I was prepared. I had dozens of photos of my yard showing it was impossible for him to “accidentally” fly that low to my dog.
I also had videos of him harassing my dog in the past, and I had saved all my medical bills from taking my dog to the vet. $700 for an X-ray? Check. Another $250 to sedate him during? Why not, don’t want him being uncomfortable. Full dental exam with tooth cleaning/repair? $400. Then there was the cost of anti-anxiety meds and a secondary check-up, wet food for a week in case his teeth were hurt, and extra just for good measure.
In the end, the jerk ended up owing me almost $2,000, and now is being investigated by the FAA for not having a registered drone and violating several regulations concerning drone flight, too near an airport, too close to other people, out of sight of operator, and waaay above the maximum altitude. Enjoy never being allowed to fly drones again, buddy.
Story Credit: Reddit/DreaDrone999
Cheaters Never Prosper
When I got divorced—my alcoholic wife of 18 years had started another affair, this time with her addictions counsellor—my lawyer and I laid a trap for them. Just in case you don’t know, intimate relations between a counselor and patient are very frowned upon by the regulatory bodies. And I was more than angry after putting her through rehab ($25k, which I didn’t have to do) only to have her fall back into her old behavior.
Shortly before the divorce was finalized, I filed a complaint with the State body licensing health professions. Knowing they were in some peril because of their unprofessional relationship (I had already gotten him fired from a major teaching hospital), she had backed off her exorbitant demands. I paid her a very modest settlement, kept the house, got custody of the three tweenage kids, plus got child support.
Her lawyer naturally included a clause in the divorce where I had to agree to not say anything negative about her lover and their relationship. But the lawyer messed up and never asked if I had already filed charges and thus didn’t require me to rescind them. Her lawyer had assumed I was just bad mouthing them to neighbors and friends, and it never occurred to the lawyer that we were doing much more. But we were doing much more.
When the Board of Health Professions responded to my complaint shortly after the divorce was finalized, I told them that it would take a subpoena to get me to testify, since a subpoena trumps an agreement in a divorce settlement. They were happy to oblige. They stripped his license and placed him on a register of sanctioned health professionals.
He never worked again. They were broke in a handful of years and she divorced him when the money ran out. Oh, and the frosting on the cake was that his wife and I traded notes, notably hotel receipts from the time of their affair, that helped each of us in our respective divorces. In the end, justice was very much served.
Story Credit: Reddit/ceb20816
Home Sweet Hospital
As a nurse, we had this god-awful patient who made all our lives a nightmare. Needed pain meds on the dot, needed to smoke every half hour, sat on the call light all freaking day. This person was also possibly the rudest human being I’ve ever met. Treated us horribly. So it finally came time for discharge, and this patient decided to come up with a whole bunch of new medical problems.
“I have chest pain! I have nausea! One side of my body feels numb!” So, being the very skilled and rational nurse I am, I asked the doctor for a whole new set of orders. First, I asked for lab draws every three hours (meaning needles every three hours) to check cardiac markers. Then I asked that the patient get “nothing by mouth” status while we did tests. This person couldn’t go an hour without eating something. Oh, but it gets better.
For the numbness, I requested he be placed on strict bedrest for 24 hrs, which meant no more going downstairs to smoke. I then explained this all to the patient, and he says, “Oh! I Just wanted to stay another night. I ain’t doing any of that! I feel fine, just give me my friggin’ papers!” I had him out the door in an hour.
Story Credit: Reddit/andybent25
I was working at a pizza place with a worthless, useless, good-for-nothing manager. We did not get along with each other well. He was a jerk and probably didn’t like me because everyone else loved me. Well, his biggest peeve was when we left pizza boxes opened on the cutting table before the pizza came out of the oven.
Instead, he wanted us to wait until the pizza was finished, taken out, cut, and then put into the box, which took much longer. One busy night, it was me, another co-worker, and the delivery driver. We were going crazy keeping up with all of the orders happening at once. We had to answer phones while we made the pizzas. The jerk manager sat in the office for the whole rush.
There was a one-way mirror with a full view of the pizza-cutting area. So, to get his attention, I started pulling down and opening boxes on the cutting table. I wanted him to come out running and yelling so the owner would hopefully notice. It worked like a charm. He came out shouting about how I wasn’t doing my job right and whatever else made him mad.
Already frustrated and busy, I started yelling back at him. The owner came out from the back and brought us to his office. I explained how the manager hadn’t been helping and I’d worked there long enough to know what I was doing. The owner looked at the manager and told him that if I quit, he was fired. But that wasn’t the best part.
Then he asked me when I was turning 18. I asked him why, and he told me that was when he wanted to promote me to assistant manager. The jerk manager switched stores shortly after.
Story Credit: Reddit/StarVixen
Is This Hacking?
My previous property management company was the worst. After a huge snowfall, the property management company hadn’t touched the snow in our parking lot for days. After day three, I called to mention we were sort of trapped and they needed to send trucks and snow blowers to take care of things. The response I got was basically “Sorry, we’ll get to it sooner or later.”
Important note: Years ago if you opened a Yahoo email, you could add a second email for recovery without confirming it. I created a new @yahoo email address and used their general @propertymanagement as the alternate email. I then signed up for alerts for every time there was an eBay listing for “snow plow” or “snow blower.”
It took a matter of hours before thousands of emails were sent. Ended up crashing their email server. They responded to all residents with a very nice email explaining they get the frustration, and they’re working on it. So, I paused the alerts. 24 hours later, still nothing, alerts back on. Another email, another pause, another day of nothing, repeat. Eventually, we got the driveway plowed and life was good.
Story Credit: Reddit/Sidekicknicholas