People Share Their "Putting A Bully In Their Place" Revenge Stories
18. Treat Me Unfairly? Get Rubber Duckies Hidden Around Your Classroom
“To begin the story, I have to go back to the eighth grade when I first met this teacher. I don’t really blame her for having a bad opinion of me back then, because even as far as eighth-graders go, I was a little sh*t. Even I would’ve hated me back then. Her dislike toward me never really manifested itself through anything huge, but it was quite clear on a daily basis that she favored other students.
Sometimes she would grade my work a bit harder than that of other kids, and she would occasionally yell at me. Whatever. Eighth grade ended, and I assumed I would never have to deal with her again, and her with me.
However, junior year rolled around, and I realized I had a choice to make: continue on my AP history route and have this teacher, or stop taking AP history and have a different teacher, who’s special in his own ways.
Because I figured I’d matured a bunch since eighth grade and because I am a fairly good student, I figured I’d try out her class: AP US History. Man, was this a big mistake.
To go from the teacher I’d had the gear prior in AP World History to my new teacher was a very interesting transition. My AP World teacher was arguably the best teacher I’ve ever had, though she thought the class very hard.
Whatever though – I still scraped a 90 in the class and a 4 on the exam. But, my new teacher was the opposite. She would sit at her desk and eat and give us assignments to do independently. On Black Friday, she even sat at her desk and shopped. At the end of the first semester, we had counted, and she had only gotten in front of the class and taught twice.
On top of this, she had taken a dislike to me again, though this time very unfairly. For me, it was an easy A+ class, and I never did anything that should have p*ssed her off, but everything I did seemed to rub her the wrong way.
Eventually, her dislike toward me and her unfair grading and treatment of me pushed me to a dislike towards her, and the rest of the class shared my opinion.
After a while of thinking, and a while browsing Reddit, I came up with a plan. The next day, I bought 50 rubber ducks off of Amazon and began to form my plan. Every day, I hid a rubber duck in a different spot in her classroom. For about two weeks, she never said anything to our class, but when we said something about the numerous ducks in various visible places around her room, she exploded.
For whatever reason, the ducks drove her insane. For months she couldn’t figure out who it was, and every day in class, she would have something to say about the ducks, and it would end up wasting a good 10 minutes of class nearly every day.
Eventually, the school year ended, and she never figured out it was me. The ducks drove her insane, and my mission was accomplished.”
17. You Won't Get Away With Cyberbullying Me
“So, for context, I was bullied from 2nd until 9th grade by a whole group of different people. Don’t worry about me now though; I’m fine and have friends I can trust and no one is bullying me.
Anyhow, one of these guys, let’s call him Paul, used to bully me pretty bad about being fat. Which is kind of correct, I am quite chunky and large and have seen for as long as I can remember.
Although I don’t believe that justifies spitting on me, stealing my gym clothes, and calling me every name in the book for over six years straight. He wasn’t alone in doing this, but he was certainly the worst and the one to target me exclusively.
Might not be called petty revenge but kinda.
This happened when I was about 16. I was doing YouTube for a short moment when I was in junior high (sailly fandom videos, nothing worth watching), and I actually got what to me is a somewhat decent following considering the quality of the videos.
And of course, Paul found out about my YouTube channel. A few of the videos had my face in it since I actually felt safe doing so because people were supportive.
But as soon as Paul found the channel, he started sending hate comments. These comments weren’t only the same things he used to tell me face to face, there were death threats, comments about how I should carve the fat out of my stomach and die (which is weird, because in these videos, you basically only saw my chest and up; you could barely see my chest or my waist, just shoulders up essentially), so that alone would tell you he’s seen me before and is someone I know.
But no no no, there was something a lot more obvious.
In junior high, my entire school got Google accounts and Chromebook laptops from the school for work, using Google Drive and whatnot. And these account names were the students’ firsts and last names, the number of their grade and class, as well as the actual name of the school. So essentially, all information one might need in order to identify the student in question.
So for example, “John Johnsson, class 8P, SchoolSchool,” so least to say, it was obvious. And guess what account had written these threatening comments? Paul’s school account.
I quickly screenshot these comments and tell my mother. I’m of course in tears now and trying my best to explain to her what has happened. My mom is the sweetest lady around but not the most tech-savvy. Once she read the comments, she realized that technically, these are criminal threats.
(In my country, you gain criminal responsibility, meaning you can have legal consequences for what you do at age 15.)
We call Paul’s mother and tell her that we’re gonna bring this to the police since we’ve talked to them before about Paul bullying me. She panics and starts scrambling to have Paul apologize to me. My mom asks me if I want to hear said apology, and I just shake my head.
My mom tells Paul’s mom that I want nothing to do with him. Paul then comes up with some crazy excuse about how his so-called “friends” used his school account (which he apparently gave them access to) to send the comments and that he was innocent. My mom told Paul’s mom that the comments are written in his name, and that’s all the proof we need.
Paul’s mom starts crying and tells my mom that Paul’s already essentially has two strikes with the police (apparently on stealing charges), and if he gets a third, he’ll suffer greater consequences.
My mom looks at me and I tell her that if we were to contact the police it would become a long process that I wasn’t personally mentally prepared to go through. We tell Paul that if he as much as looks at me weirdly again, we’ll contact the police, without notice to them.
I haven’t heard from Paul ever since…”
Another Users Comments:
“I’d still report it to the police, as well as to the school, because using school property to commit cyberbullying is something that the school needs to know about. He played b*tch games, now he needs to receive his b*tch prize.” G8RTOAD
16. Mistreat Me For My ADHD? I'll Get You Fired
A teacher who can’t handle students with mental, learning, or behavioral setbacks has no place in the education field.
“So to start this whole thing off, I have never posted on Reddit before and thought this would be a good story. The revenge is more or less carried out by my mother as I was too young at the time to do it myself.
To give some backstory, when I was in the first and second grade I was one of those “gifted” students, I was smart and had been offered to skip 2nd grade, although my parents chose not to.
However, I had severe ADHD. This caused a lot of problems in my learning as I would get distracted incredibly easily. Once I got into 3rd grade, that is where the problems began. We will call my teacher Miss G.
So Miss G was a well-respected teacher at my school and she had tenure after teaching for there for over 10 years. So needless to say, she was very problematic to get rid of.
We were a few weeks into the school year before we started learning about multiplication. Before the tests had started, she had pulled me aside for the 2 X multiplication test and told me it was the 1 X multiplication test. I was a bit confused, but I didn’t argue because she was the teacher.
As the first test went on she only announced, “Times 7, 3, 9, 2” and so on till she had covered 1-13.
She did not mention the original number that was being multiplied. There was also a large list above the whiteboard that showed who had passed each test. After we had gotten all the tests back, I saw that my name was the only one that had not moved to the 3 X test, putting the whole class above me. I was distraught and got taunted by my classmates.
I came crying to my teacher about how did I fail? She told me that there was no need to multiply by 1 for everything and that I didn’t pay attention and that it must have been my ADHD. It killed me as I assumed there was nothing I could do. I continued on with the tests without a problem, making my way to the top of the list.
However, during this time she had moved all the desks into 2 groups.
1 group had almost all the students and the other had about 5 of us. We figured out that we were the only students who took medication for ADHD or other learning disabilities like dyslexia. Miss G thought that we were stupid because we took medication or couldn’t do things fast enough. She believed that ADHD meds did nothing, and learning disabilities were not real and just an excuse to not pay attention or not do work.
She frequently called our group the “dumb pod” and would always be harsh to us whenever we asked questions.
Miss G would say things like, “What kind of question is that?” and “Why would you even expect me to answer your question?” I did not speak to my parents about most of this as I was scared of how my teacher would make my life worse if she found out.
My parents began to start to notice changes in my behavior. Such as when we would go to restaurants and I would color their kids menu pictures in rainbow colors and my dad would always keep crayons on him for it.
Well, I started coloring everything in black. I didn’t talk as much and was not excited about the things I enjoyed doing with my parents. They tried to talk to me about it, but I didn’t say anything at first.
My grades dropped a lot and I began always feeling awful and worthless. One day, Miss G brought in her rottweiler to class and had chained it to the back of the classroom by the “dumb pod.” It had barked and growled at us for most of the day with it only being about a foot away from us.
I was terrified at this point, and a few days later, she was yelling at one of my friends in the “dumb pod” over a question he asked. He was crying and asked to go home. What happened after was horrifying. She took him out of his seat and sat him on the ground by her desk. She then placed a chair over him and sat on it.
The chair wasn’t directly on him, but she had trapped him under it and taught for another 30 minutes while he sobbed from under her. She would kick him if he sobbed too loud.
After this, I told my parents about all the stuff that was happening. My dad, who was a very non-confrontational person, didn’t want to believe it and was uncertain I was telling the truth because I had come to them with all the information at once.
However, my mom went into full mama bear protecting her cub mode. She confronted the administration with this information, and they did nothing and dismissed her as a crazy Karen.
My mom is incredibly smart and had studied in law school for a few years before picking another profession. So she started contacting all the parents of my friends and other students from the class. She spoke with so many parents and got written statements from all of them and their kids.
One thing that still makes me feel terrible to this day is that one of my friends had stopped showing up to school and later on when my mom contacted his parents, they explained he had tried to hang and kill himself, and they didn’t know why. My mom explained my situation and all the stuff about the teacher. His parents confronted my friend and he agreed that Miss G was the reason.
He was the one who was put under the chair.
My mom stacked all this information and united at least 15 parents. They brought this information to the school and before they heard all the information, they claimed my mom was a racist and didn’t like that Miss G was teaching her kid for that reason (Miss G was African American). So my mom was just dismissed again.
My mom brought this information to the school board for our district, and they were appalled.
Miss G was immediately dismissed permanently. However, this gets better. Miss G apparently thought that she had done nothing wrong and sued the district for unfairly dismissing her. This brought up a huge case where all the evidence against her was brought forward. She lost the case and was no longer allowed to teach in my state. Miss G also was not allowed on any of our district’s school grounds.
She was not able to even pick up her kids if they were on school grounds. As for the principal of the school, she was fired and replaced within a few weeks. All of us were moved to the other 3rd-grade class with a wonderful teacher until the school could get a replacement for Miss G.
I feel bad for Miss G’s kids, but she was a terrible woman who emotionally scarred many children. God only knows how many suffered from her before I did. In case you are wondering, I am much better now and almost out of college, thanks to lots of emotional help from my parents.
Thank you for reading my story.”
15. Try To Make Me Fail The Class? I'll Return The Favor
“Background:
In the recent school year, for grade 8, (my school went from pre-k to 8th grade), I was in a class called “Family Living,” and it was teaching you about basic home life. The highlight of the class was the flour baby project, where you took a bag of flour, made it look like a baby, and had to carry it around all day, every day, for a week.
It was also near the end of the year, in May or something. It was the only big assignment for the class, and your grade for this project determined the grade on your report card. On the last two days of the project, you are allowed to kidnap other people’s babies when they are unattended but not rip them out of their hands. During class, there are safe spaces called nurseries where you can’t kidnap them, but if your baby does get kidnapped, and you can’t find them, and you kinda fail the class.
Remember this.
Anyways, the main b*tch of this story is a girl I’ll call…Patricia. She was not liked by many, due to her incessant sh*t-talking and gossip. She had outted one of the girls in the grade as being a lesbian, causing the girl to be mocked for her crush on a very sweet, yet straight girl in our grade. Nobody ever had the “right” opinion when talking to her, causing her to take low blows and insult them instead of being a sane person.
She also stabbed me in the shoulder with a blunt pencil, taunting me to chase her down the hallway while I had a sprained ankle (lol, no; my pain tolerance ain’t that high.)
Point is, I was fed up with her, and the first kidnapping day was the breaking point. It was during lunch, and me and my friend were packing up our things to leave. My baby was on the table, and I had a hand on it.
But suddenly, it comes out of my grasp. Yep, this cow, Patricia, had pulled it out of my grasp. I chased her, as she was running to the main office (you’re supposed to leave kidnapped babies there for our class teacher to find), but she beat me there, only to be handing my baby to our teacher. I was p*ssed and told the teacher what happened.
Conversation went like this.
Me: Excuse me, Mrs. Teacher/ Patricia stole my baby from my hands. This isn’t a fair kidnap.
Patricia: No, you were on the other side of the lunchroom, leaving your poor baby alone. This is a fair kidnap!
Now, Mrs. Teacher is confused and thinking about whose side to take. She takes us back to the lunchroom, holding my baby, and asks random students about what happened.
Their story lines up with mine, so I was free to go. But so was Patricia. I got my baby back, and that’s how it should have ended. Right? Wrong.
The Revenge:
The bus ride home is where I craft a sinister plot with a friend of mine in the 5th grade, who I’ll call Link. During fifth period the next day, I have gym and he has English, and our classrooms are right across the hall from each others.
Gym is the only class where the nursery is outside of the room, so you can’t really see the babies from inside the gym.
Cue Link. He was going “go to the bathroom” during English and leave the room. He’d take Patricia’s baby and hide it inside of an empty locker that was not used or opened. All while I didn’t leave the gym, having a rock-solid alibi.
He was down for it because he was always a troublemaker and because I promised him $10 in advance. And it went off perfectly. He hid the baby and went back to class as normal.
When gym was over, and everyone collecting babies, Patricia freaked out. Her precious baby was missing, and she started wailing like a banshee. Me and some other friends were giggling at this, and she raged at us to give her baby back or she’d report us to the principal, but we reminded her that we didn’t leave the room.
She got huffy and looked all over.
When Family Living came that day, she broke down in front of Mrs. Teacher, saying that her baby was gone. They looked all over, but nothing. The weekend was me telling my best friend about this and us laughing like hyenas.
Fast forward to the last week of the school year, all the lockers are being cleared out and opened, even the empty ones.
One of the teachers find the flour baby, carelessly hung on one of the locker’s hooks. It’s recognized as the missing baby from late May and is given to Patricia.
At this point, it’s too late to change report card grades; I have no idea why. So Patricia has a nice shiny F on her report card. What a nice way to start high school next year. She moped about it and yelled at everyone else for its disappearance. Safe to say, she wasn’t invited to the private farewell party our grade had.”
14. Ignorant Teachers Get A Special Surprise When They Start Their Cars
“Back story (set in Australia early 1980’s).
Unfortunately, I am someone who was severely bullied by classmates from as early as primary school and had already been to two primary schools by the time I started high school.
I was a very intelligent child who was reading Dr. Seuss books on my own before I started primary school, so thanks to my advanced skills in reading, spelling, grammar, and comprehension, I would easily win spelling bees, get through my reading assignments, and many other subjects (including German as a second language) quite easily.
Though, math was and still is my weakness. This earned me a lot of bullying from my classmates which I would often report to the teacher, but this would earn me even more intensive bullying.
By high school, I was a bored student and this boredom led me to fail year 7 and need to repeat the year. I had been enrolled in a school further away in the hope that I wouldn’t have my primary school bullies in any of my classes.
But unfortunately, there were a few classmates from my first primary school that remembered me or had friends from my first primary school.
(Part 1) On to the story of why my expulsion came about:
Late November just 3 weeks before the end of the school year, I decided to wag (skip) class to avoid my bullies as I had taken to doing often because I didn’t want to go into class with red puffy eyes after another bout of crying due to being ganged up on by my tormentors during lunch break, coming back around 20 minutes before the end of the day bell to wait for the bike shed to be unlocked, so I could get to my bike (before I found the tires let down or slashed by my tormentors), I found a teacher waiting for me as he obviously knew that I had wagged his class that afternoon and that I had ridden to school that day.
He was a drama teacher, who everyone called Nick instead of the usual title of Mr., with spiky, punk, crazy-colored hair, casual fashionable clothes and relaxed attitude towards many students (including his pets), and he was very popular in the school. But he was possibly one of the worst of the teachers who allowed his little pets to torment me daily.
Nick put his hand on my arm gripping it quite firmly, demanding that I go to the principal’s office with him.
I pulled away from him and without swearing or using an insulting tone, just made it clear that I will be going nowhere with him and that as soon as the groundskeeper opens the bike shed, that I was going home. He grabbed hold of my arm again this time tighter and trying to pull me along with him. I escaped his grip again and this time I admit to swearing at him to keep his hands off me and that I will be going nowhere with him.
Again he grabbed at me, and this time, it hurt.
So having had done a few years of martial arts at the time, I defended myself by twisting out of his grip and using the heel of my hand against his chest very firmly pushing him several steps away from me.
The groundskeeper walked around the corner just at the moment I had pushed back at him. The groundskeeper was asked by Nick to go get the principal because I was refusing to go to the office with him.
Of course, the groundskeeper did so. In the office (my mother was called and had arrived), and I was given the choice between expulsion with a letter to be sent to my next school or to leave willingly. I chose to leave willingly of course. But as I went to interview after interview at several high schools, it became clear to me that after my interviews when my high school was contacted, that the principal was filling them in about what happened because I got several rejections and some rather leading questions about why I was leaving that high school.
After that, I decided it was better just to come clean with my side of the story before they contacted the high school for more information on me.
Finally got accepted to a high school on the condition that I would come to a teacher if bullied, or if I didn’t trust the teacher then to find a teacher, a year co-ordinator that I could trust or to come to him and that they would hear me out.
(Part 2)
Now onto the petty revenge:
It was necessary to finalize paperwork to formally exit that school as a student.
So because mom was working that day, I rode my bike there after lunch to get that done and get my revenge.
Being someone who was very observant over the years and the good luck that the teachers’ parking was right by the library, and I had always been able to see them leaving from where I would sit in the library after school often to hide from my tormentors after hiding my bike in some bushes, so they would think that I had gone ahead of them.
Well, these particular teachers of mine who always turned a blind eye to their little teachers’ pets bullying me always parked in their preferred spots, would walk out to their cars together, and start their cars within seconds of each other. So I had come to the school that final time with rotten eggs, baby potatoes, and toilet paper.
Hiding my bike in its usual spot, around 30 minutes before the end of the day bell, I then proceeded to put the eggs, baby potatoes, and toilet paper into the exhaust pipes of their cars.
Then I sat myself down in the same place as my bike and to pass the time I opened a book to read for a while and wait for the show about to start.
Well, the bell went, and out came all of the students to make their way home. Around an hour later, these particular teachers came out together to their cars and I could overhear their conversations which included some revolting things about me.
These teachers would park in a way that the boot (trunk) of their cars pointed at each other. They got in after saying their farewells and started their engines.
Oh, the resulting show was glorious.
Eggs, potatoes, and toilet paper shooting out of exhaust pipes hitting each other’s cars. The noise, confusion, and mess were hilarious. It was very difficult to stifle my giggles in my hiding spot.
I sat there until they went back into the building to get help and then I took off on my bike as fast as possible and went straight home.
This was at a time when schools didn’t have cameras everywhere for security, so there was no proof that I had done this. Of course, my parents were called, but I denied it for many years and only let my parents know 20 years later.
I have plenty of stories about my teachers, practical jokes and revenge on teachers and my tormentors.”
Another User Comments:
“Those teachers got what they deserved, but if I were to do it, I would make it a bit more expensive for them, but, hey, this was like 30 years ago, but still they got what they deserved.” Tazzaman53
Reply:
“I did enough damage to the paint on their cars from the rotten eggs and baby potatoes. Lots of dents and bum nut guts on the duco….lol.” Crazy_Aussie_Pagan
13. Forcing A Bad Teacher Into Early Retirement
“OK, so setting the scene: 9th grade honors English, a class full of future ivy leaguers (Harvard, Princeton, Dartmouth, Cornell, etc.), and me and my best friend “Patrick” who were already heavy into booze and w**d and would both end up at football party schools for college.
The year starts out decent – our teacher is old and mean, and the syllabus looks boring, but we kick off the year with a cool project about the US Presidential Election.
Everyone gets into it, even us two delinquents, who dive into an oral report on fellow mediocre student Dan, “He’s No Jack Kennedy” Quayle. The teacher is so pleased that she lets the project drag on into November, as we break down and analyze the election and its results. At the time, no one questions why we are spending months on the election in an English class (instead of Civics or Social Studies), but who cares; we’re having fun.
Fast forward a few months, and the teacher has a sudden realization… She let a couple-week lark on the election turn into a multi-month distraction, and now we’re way behind on the syllabus. Mind you, she uses the same syllabus every year and the election only comes around every 4 years, so there was no slack in there to begin with. We now have a very short amount of time left in the year to plow through all the Shakespeare, Canterbury Tales, etc.
that is laid out in her department-approved syllabus. As the son of a rebellious NYC English teacher, I have grown up with stories of great syllabus battles against the administration. That’s what ultimately forced my mother out of teaching, so I know just how serious this is for the teacher, and by extension, us.
The good news: If we plow through one novel/play per week between now and the end of the school year (including spring break), we may just pull this off.
Not just reading them, mind you, but class discussion & critique, writing the papers, taking all the tests, and everything else that was promised. After all, it’s all on the syllabus; smart students would already have begun reading ahead on this material. We set off at breakneck speed, but it’s quickly clear that this will be difficult even for the no-social-life brainiacs in the class and basically impossible for two hungover malcontents who were planning to take turns flipping through the Cliffs Notes at Barnes & Noble and then copying off each other.
As this starts to ruin golf team practice and cut into weekend drinking time – a plan is hatched.
A quick survey of the masses reveals everyone is equally upset with the unfair situation we find ourselves in. We float the idea of open rebellion and slowly bring everyone over to our side. It probably helps that I am 6’2″ and he is a football player/wrestler type, and everyone else looks 12 years old, although at the time we just thought that we were very convincing.
Eventually, the following Monday when a major paper is due is selected as the moment to strike.
On the appointed day, we act as spokesmen for the rest of the class. The teacher has heard many complaints from these, the best and brightest students in the grade, but has failed to take any action. Enough is enough, we say; no more work will be done until there is a complete renegotiation of expectations.
She begins to get quite heated as we explain that no one, not one single person in the class, has prepared today’s required assignment to hand in as expected. As we argue, and she yells, I can tell from body language that everyone else in the class has actually written their papers and are hiding them in backpacks and notebooks… They are practically reaching to lay a hand on them as this drags on.
They are waiting for that moment when she breaks us and we are sent to the principal’s office, at which point they will throw their papers at her in a rush, say we threatened them, and beg forgiveness to maintain their straight-A averages. It is no stretch to say that most of these kids have never received a B or even an A-minus in their life.
But they have underestimated us (and perhaps we, them), as we don’t break and neither do they – the teacher does! She collapses into her chair with a sigh, admits we may be right, begins muttering about where she went wrong.
In fact, she basically gives up, encouraging us to read the material, but no longer demanding lengthy homework assignments and barraging us with constant quizzes and tests.
For the rest of the year, we coast, as she is so defeated she barely even maintains the charade of teaching class. At the end of the school year, as we are goofing around, signing yearbooks and chit-chatting, when she stands up to give her final speech.
This is normally a speech going something like, “You’re the best class ever, you’ll go far in life, I’ll miss you, come visit me next year, etc.” She instead proceeds to tell us that we are the worst class she has ever had in 25+ years of teaching. In fact, she has decided to retire years earlier than planned and will never teach again, and it’s all our fault for being such b*stards.
I have never felt such power over an adult authority figure! It was intoxicating and laid down a blueprint of defiance that would define our next three years of high school. FWIW – I don’t have a transcript handy, but I think I ended up with an A-minus in the class.”
12. Try To Choke Me? You'll Wish You Never Did
“Now this story is from years ago. I was about 12ish. Growing up, I was the kid in class who grew twice as fast as everyone else (about 4 inches taller on average). I’m 6’5” now. And I was also the fat kid. Now despite my size, I was a very timid boy. I hated unnecessary violence and rarely got physical with anyone.
Being a big, awkward pacifist I was often the target of bullies, stopped when high school started, but there was this one kid who picked on me like it was an Olympic event.
Now the day had been a rough one.
All throughout the day, Z (my bully) had been messing with me. Name-calling, throwing things, smacking the back of my head when I wasn’t paying attention, etc., and I was breaking down. We were on the bus heading home when I felt a hand force my head forward into the seats in front of me. I was able to stop myself, but now that I knew Z was behind me, he decided to slap the side of my head whenever he caught me off guard.
After a while of this, he got a lucky hit in and pressed his middle finger into my eye.
On that, I lost it.
Me. Why don’t you f*ck off!?!
Z. Oh, is the fat boy gonna cry?
Me. You don’t have to be such a piece of sh*t all the time.
The bus had emptied somewhat, so I moved a few seats forward and sat there boiling. I knew I had to make him pay. Not five minutes later, my head is wrenched back and I couldn’t breathe.
The b*stard had me in a headlock.
I knew he was stronger than me, but I had a brilliant idea. Time for some payback.
I grabbed his ear, pulled it to the right, then quickly slammed his head into the metal plating above the window. He let go and ran towards his friends. It being my stop, I quickly left the bus but not without looking back at Z and seeing him crying his eyes out.
Blood was pouring out from in between his fingers.
On Monday, we were both pulled out of class and had to explain what had happened. I told them everything. The hell Z put me through, the reason for me cutting his head open, everything.
In the end, we were both suspended. Me for 3 days based on Z’s injuries (he needed 6 stitches, scar was always visible through his hair) and Z for 2 weeks.
I was far from the first person to be harassed by Z, and he had been given chance after chance to stop. No more. No expulsion because expelling the bleeding kid would not go over well but much harsher punishments than before. Every time he harassed anyone, detention or in-school suspension. Z never really stopped messing with me, but he gave me a wide birth from then on.
Now that everyone saw that Z was on the teacher’s sh*t list, he was reported almost every day. Minor things, but still enough to get him detention. This continued all the way to highschool, and in grade 12, he just dropped off the face of the earth.
I heard that about a year ago he was working at a gas station and has a kid with a girl who hates him.”
11. Join In With Your Brother On The Bullying? Get A Snowball Where It Hurts
“So a few years ago in my neighborhood, we had 2 kids, one in 5th grade, John and one in 2nd grade, his little bro, Larry. John really cared about Larry and protected him like he was everything.
In our neighborhood had a little island of a prairie (we live in Iowa and prairies are everywhere) that split the road into two and back again in the entrance to our neighborhood.
It had 2 trees and a sign with the name of our neighborhood on it.
We get boiling summers and freezing winters, and in the winter, we get a lot of snow. The snow that year was in big pieces a bit bigger than the size of a very old TV. After we got off our bus, we started walking and talking. While we were talking, John took a chunk of snow, ran across the island, and dumped it over my head.
I was p*ssed, but I kept talking with my friend, Al. Then Al got dumped on, and I was even more p*ssed. This continued for about 2 minutes.
Then Larry got in on it, and that was when I struck. My shoes, socks, pants, and shirt were wet (I had no snow pants on) and I was done with this. Larry ran across the island with a chunk of snow and stopped on the sidewalk.
He froze and dropped his chunk when he saw me making a ball of snow and packing it together with all of my might. For the people who are not familiar with snow, you might not know this, but when you do what I did, it creates a heavy ball of hardness and pain if it hits you.
I am a great hitter but the worst thrower ever to play baseball.
So when I threw it, I missed…
…and. hit. him. square. in. the. freaking. nuts.
Luck had granted me, A NUTSHOT!
Everyone’s head turned. I saw the life drain from his face. I still think back to him dropping to his knees and covering his groin and smile.
I had a new problem now. His brother. He did what was basically a bull charge from Mike Tyson’s Punch-Out (great game, and, no I am not a 45 year old).
He tackled me and Al had to pull me away from his weak punches (he doesn’t punch like bald bull, that’s for sure).
I bolted to my driveway and caught my breath with Al in tow. We chatted for a second and I walked inside and I celebrated my victory against John.
John is no longer a jerk and we get along. He moved away sadly, and I miss him. He was fun when we got along. Also, I feel bad for Larry because he just followed John’s orders.
Lesson of this story: Don’t make me cold, wet, and p*ssed at the same time.”
10. Make My Marching Band Experience Miserable? I'll Make Your Life Miserable
“Before I begin, it’s important to note that I was and still am a very strange human. I can be the stereotypical shy girl one minute, then completely flip the switch over to hyper and talkative the next moment. If someone got me talking about something I liked, I could go on and on, but as my interests were often unpopular, most of the time would end up getting interrupted or would cut myself off when I noticed that no one cared.
I didn’t have a lot of friends, and most of the ones I had didn’t really care about me; they just wanted to try and mooch off of me because my parents are very well off (this will be mentioned later). I also was and still am extremely socially awkward, a huge doormat, and have no idea how to talk to people as a result of overprotective conservative parents never letting me go out and living in the middle of forested nowhere (two examples of how sheltered I was: 1) I didn’t know about the birds and the bees until my sophomore year of high school when I worked up the nerve to start reading rated M fanfiction, got confused, and then did my own research, and 2) I didn’t know that gay people existed, let alone that I myself am pansexual, until freshman year.
I very much prefer books, video games, and fanfiction to real humans.
Now, onto the story. When I was in middle school I was forced into marching band and ended up liking it, so I stayed with it through middle school and high school until I graduated. What I didn’t like was the flute section that I was… “persuaded” to join since my mother had played the flute when she was in high school.
If you’ve never been the only socially awkward atheist with more of an interest in “boy stuff” (video games, metal music, comics, etc.) than “girl stuff” (just think of whatever old, white men force their daughters to like) in the heavily cheerleader-populated flute section of a small, almost entirely Christian independent school, let me tell you: IT SUCKS.
While the other sections would goof around and have fun, my section was dictated under the tyrannical rule of my section leader, who was a bossy, unpleasant boot-licker who no one outside of the cheerleading squad and the flute section genuinely liked (they’d fake it to her face though; you know how high school is).
However, this story isn’t about her.
This story is about Autumn (p.s. not her real name, but her real name is a season).
Ah, Autumn. How does one describe her? Think of the most stereotypical tan, bleach-blonde popular bully girl, then add the s*men of Satan himself via sloppy bl*wjob and a c*caine addiction, and you have Autumn. She was gorgeous. She had loads of little cronies to do her bidding.
All the boys wanted to bang her, and all the popular girls loved her. She was a year younger than me and joined the marching band two years after I did. At first, she seemed friendly and excited to be in the band, and during the sweltering band camp weeks, my closeted baby gay a** definitely was enjoying the view of this cheerleader-turned-band kid in skimpy shorts.
Then, about a month into the school year, her true colors start flying high.
During the school day, she started bullying girls who she felt were not as good as her or girls that were most definitely better than her. She’d do stupid bully things like get a guy to pretend he was interested in a girl, then dump her in front of everyone. She was a menace.
During band practice, she wasn’t any better. She’d bark out instructions at upperclassmen despite having joined not three months ago, she’d tell people that they were awful and should quit, she’d hide people’s instruments and equipment, and she absolutely refused to take criticism from anyone but our section leader, who took her side (cheerleaders stick together, I guess).
For some reason, after I tried to correct her marching technique one day, she decided that I was going to be her favorite target.
Cue shoulder checking in the hallways, hiding my stuff, calling me stupid names and getting others to join in, messing up in practice, and then claiming I somehow messed her up, etc. Her favorite time of day was when the different sections split off to work with their section leaders to work on the music, in which she would vigorously put me down. See, I never have been able to read music very well but would write the note names above the ledgers and could keep up just fine.
However, this was pointed out often and aided by the section leader. I remember this one time the next year when there was a three-part solo reserved for the upperclassmen: the section leader, the assistant section leader (a lovely girl, very kind), and me. However, apparently, Autumn was going to be allowed to do it too. I, not meaning anything mean by it, asked why, considering one of the other girls had been refused a solo since she was an underclassman.
Autumn then interrupted and said that maybe only the people that could actually play should have solos, then gave me a smug pointed look. I was fuming, but I suck at confrontation and said nothing.
This crap went on for three years until I finally said ‘f*ck this.’ The final straw (or straws, rather) started at a competition. First, when I was helping the pit (the percussion that doesn’t move, as opposed to the drumline, which DOES move, for non-band people) load their equipment onto the truck, and I asked one of the other flutes to get my instrument onto the truck.
She ended getting called away and asked Autumn to do it. Autumn, of course, “forgot.” When we got to the competition, I had no instrument, and it was a thirty-minute drive back to the school and only an hour until we performed. My section leader (who took everything way too seriously) screamed at me for “ruining everything” and about how I wrecked our band’s chances of winning with Autumn smirking in the background.
My dad, meanwhile, booked it back to the school, booked it back, then gave me my flute minutes before I took the field. No harm done to our chances of winning, but I was not happy.
Next, the following day (after we won, I should add), Autumn pretended to apologize and tried to make nice. She then asked if I could go with her to get her phone, so she could put my number in it.
It was in one of the band closets to “keep it safe and out of the way.” Like a dumba**, I said okay, and we went to get it, only for me to be shoved in and hear a click once the door slammed shut behind me. The b*tch locked me in with the full knowledge of me having severe claustrophobia. I screamed, sobbed, and actually got sick for about five hours (the closets were fairly soundproof) until someone found me.
I was in the hospital for a bit, but when I got out, I was P*SSED. I wanted revenge and concocted three parts: the petty revenge, the pro revenge, and the nuclear revenge.
The petty revenge:
Autumn had an on-again-off-again relationship with a non-band upperclassman named JJ (his actual name, but I don’t think anyone can find out much from this one). He was kind of a Kevin, and at first, picked on me for a bit until I acted totally out of character and flipped out at him.
After that, for some reason, I was one of his favorite people. We’d talk video games a bit, had a few classes together, and he’d call out and say hi to me in the hallways, even when he was with Autumn, which she HATED. He’d also ditch her at band competitions when she dragged him there to come hang out with me. You probably know where this is going.
During one of their “off” periods, I summoned every ounce of my nerve and challenged him to a Gruntpocalypse on Halo, and if I won, he’d take me on a date.
It was close, but I won, and we started seeing each other. JJ wasn’t exactly my day-dream knight in shining armor (I’m a romantic, sue me), but seeing Autumn’s face every time was SO worth pushing past the discomfort of snuggling up to and/or kissing JJ.
We later broke up on very good terms. Such good terms that he listened to me when I said that Autumn was bad news, and neither he nor any of his friends ever dated her again, which supposedly broke her black, little heart.
The pro revenge:
I actually can’t say much about this one before talking about the nuclear revenge as they go hand in hand, but suffice it to say, I got Autmun kicked out of the marching band.
The nuclear revenge:
Remember when I said that Autumn was the combination of the most stereotypical tan, bleach-blonde popular bully girl, the s*men of Satan himself, and a c*caine addiction? I wasn’t kidding about the c*caine addiction.
She was busted several times before given an ultimatum: either quit or be suspended from school, kicked out and banned from joining all extracurriculars (band and cheerleading included, but not limited to), and lose qualification for the nice scholarship that she was trying for. I knew that she claimed to have been clean for several months when she locked me in the supply closet. I also knew that was likely a load of sh*t, and even if it wasn’t, I didn’t care.
I also knew of one of JJ’s friends who was trying to get clean for his girl and asked around if any of his buddies wanted his stash.
I told him I’d take it, and with some prodding from JJ, he relented. Once I had it, I waited until classes were in session during my free period, went down to the band room, then stuffed everything in Autumn’s little cubby, then covered it with a few music sheets. Next, I started a rumor that Autumn was back on c*caine. Then I simply waited.
The rumor eventually reached the principal, who Autumn was on her last chances with.
Autumn’s school locker, gym locker, and band cubby were searched, and tada! C*caine. Not only did she lose qualification for that nice, cushy scholarship, not only was she kicked out of all activities (losing cheerleading hurt her worse than band), and not only did she lose the respect of all her cheerleader friends, but she was actually EXPELLED instead of suspended and had to go to a really sh*tty school on the other side of the county.
Fast forward, and I’m on my way to a degree, and last I heard, Autumn was arrested for possession of illegal drugs.
Did I go way too far? Probably.
Was I a petty b*tch to the highest degree? Absolutely. Do I regret it? Not for a single second.
Eat your heart out, “Autumn.””
Another Users Comments:
“Ok, what the f*ck did I just read…? High school, I guess.
I’m a pit captain in band and would never would be that sh*tty of a section leader lmao, but I’ve never thought of band as a place for popular kids. I’m just another junior boy trying to make it.
But I guess I’m pretty popular; almost everyone knows who I am around school, and most people hate me because I seem perfect on the outside… never have homework, I get everything done effortlessly, never study, never take notes, and get straight As, all the while playing piano at a very high level, being pit captain, and playing varsity tennis. But screw that; I’m not perfect at all.
Anyways, if this story is true, I applaud you.
Unfortunately, I’ve heard this story so many times that I would be lying if I said I believe you 100% (planting drugs in someone else’s locker kind of thing is pretty common in the revenge subs). I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt though; I’m too lazy to actually look for stuff to verify it’s real or fake. But the two things that caught my attention were band closets (never had those things lmao, how on earth would you have gotten stuck in one and much less why would you voluntarily go in one like that, just doesn’t make much sense) and were you said you were an upperclassman but “this crap went on for three years,” meaning you would have graduated.
I thought our band was bad.
Last week, my pit coach got arrested for suspicion to commit statutory r*pe, and everyone went batsh*t crazy. The principal and superintendent sent an email to everybody in the entire school, and parents threw a -fit and told their daughters to disassociate with everyone in band (by the way, the guy was gay, so girls weren’t even in danger). Ruined a relationship I’ve been trying to develop with a girl for about 3 months and other stuff like that.
Well, good luck in your future.
And I hope band freaking stops getting involved in sh*t like this, lmao.” Reddit user
Reply:
“Thanks for the comment! I completely understand you for not 100% believing this is true. I too have seen lots of stories like mine before, no worries. The reason that lots of popular kids were in the band at my high school was because it was a small school with not much else to do for extracurriculars (no football team, no baseball team, no soccer team), and people in sports got certain benefits. Also, I didn’t plant them in her locker, just in her band cubby, which was just a hole with a bunch of music sheets in it. Good luck to you too! ” TARDIS-time
9. Bully Me For Weeks? I'll Damage Your Reputation
“For some context, this all started some few months ago. I was eavesdropping on this infamously toxic kid in my classroom saying he was extremely good at Fortnite. I challenge him to a duel since I was a Season 2 player, and I wanted to humble him. He beats me 1-2, in which it would have been 3-2 had we gone up to the scheduled round setting of 5.
He milked this for a while, and no matter how much I explain myself, my former excuse of a friend just listens to his point of view. For the sake of shortening this, this toxic kid will be called TK, and former friend will be called Sket.
More things like this happened. For example, whenever I’d beat him, he’d just say he wasn’t trying, and whenever he beat me, he’d give some excuse saying I’m a bot.
He overused bot, might as well be running on, “If humanoid = function;encountered, emit ‘BOT’.” I don’t script, so sorry if that made you cringe.
Anyways, it hadn’t been getting hot until this one moment where my microphone wasn’t working, so I could speak. We had a party of 4 with TK, Sket, and another guy in my grade. TK would keep coming up from behind me and third partying, saying that I was doing all of it.
He gained a higher kill score than me (not surprisingly) for his tactics. He excessively said, “Where is (my name) at? Is he hiding? He’s probably scared.” Even though I’m already clearly fighting someone or building up.
At this point, I’ve had it. It was Friday, and I emailed the student counselor about how I was enraged and felt like harming him. We talked it over on Monday morning; yet after lunch, TK was also called in with me.
We had our little debate while SK (student counselor) had listened. He just spit out a bunch of lies, and it had been weeks since our first fight. He even had went back to the first fight to refute my points. SK just told us to not interact with each other on Fortnite, and both of us agreed.
Until this invertebrate decided to invite me to a party, and because I was bored out of my mind, I obliged.
We regained a relationship after messing around in creative, and he wanted to 1v1 again. This time, he excessively got beat but would just refute it by saying he wasn’t trying.
The spiciness comes back when we’re playing with someone who used to live in our town who was in 4th grade. We were on a moving zones map in creative, and we weren’t supposed to use anything but our special (the item that spawns in front of us).
TK and little kid had died, and I was about to fight TK’s sister with low materials. I basically couldn’t build. This rascal pulls up a blue pump which wasn’t a special and killed me with it when I had an SMG and was on 34 HP. Of course, TK and the little kid go wild as she was infamously bad and said I was such a bot for dying to her.
We go to a different map, and they just go on about 90’s and stuff like that, how I couldn’t do them as fast as they do.
(Keep in mind, some days before this fight, he said I improved since I managed to “clap” him, but with an audience, he must put on a show.) He exaggerates how bad I am and takes my rage as vulnerability, teaming up with little kid and acting as if they weren’t double-teaming. Fortunately, TK had left, and I just played some obbies with little kid. Now surprisingly, his PVP wasn’t as good as his parkour skills, and I laughed in the background, questioning how I’m the bot when he’s screeching at his fails.
Que the revenge.
I made sure I wouldn’t take any of his bargains or requests and had turned everyone in the homeroom except my Sket of a friend against him. I made him lose his fame and even got one of my friends in that homeroom to try his best to contradict everything he said. I exploited his insults and could literally just reflect anything back at him in a somewhat good comeback while his would be the equivalent of, “no u.” I even overused one of the greatest things to ever happen.
Now, I don’t use Grammarly anymore, but when I did, I logged into his narrative doc since the teacher asked me to review it, and Grammarly actually froze on me. I had to wait a solid 45 seconds before the doc loaded, and I saw words underlined with red. This just downgraded how my peers viewed his intelligence, seeing it as an amateur.
It didn’t get better out of the homeroom, too. In physical education, literally, any team captain would choose me over him. Soon enough, his fails in that class outweighed mine, and he was demoted to the bottom of the social hierarchy in our grade.
I wish I could add more, but as of right now, he’s in a period of dormancy in his stupidity.”
8. Ex Friend Starts Bullying Me, I Get Him Expelled
Ex friend or not, you’ll get what’s coming for ya.
“This is about the story of when I was in primary.
Background:
Me and the bully used to be friends, but got into a fight and broke up our friendship. We live relatively close but opposite to our school.
A: bully
Db: d*uchebag friend
F: friend
M: me
Story:
- The day after we lost our friendship, things in school started to turn dark between us and grades.
I couldn’t stop thinking about him and if I should apologizing, but I decided not to because of the expression on his face whenever I tried. I could tell that he was failing too because he always blamed me for it. He started calling me names and spreading rumors about me. I remember one about me eating a slug (now that I look at it, it sounds pretty stupid).
Name-calling turned into physical abuse, and I started to come home with bruised knees and scratched hands (luckily no black eyes or broken bones since I was only abused on the playground). Here’s one example of a situation that would happen (we were minding our business sitting on a bench):
A: Hey poopy-butt.
M: Umm, hey.
F: Leave us alone. (My friend always stuck up to me and we are friends to this day.)
A: What are you wearing? Looks like it came out of a bin, like you.
Db: (laughed hysterically and fist-bumps A)
F: Hey, shut up.
Your mom probably came out of a garbage truck
Me: (I imitate him and weirdly fist-bumped my friend. My friend was always aggressive, but if he wasn’t, we would actually come home with black eyes)
A: Say it to my face.
(My friend stands up A shoves F back and F falls over the bench and hits his head really hard. This surprised me, as my friend had diabetes.)
Me: STOP NOW.
A: Or what…
(I pick up my friend, but Db pushes me over.
Dramatically, I sprint inside and cry. At this point a was pushed over the line and I knew I had to report him. But without any proof of this, I couldn’t because he was very popular. I know, typical.)
I couldn’t record in school, so I got him in sight of the school cameras, but this would be hard, as there aren’t many and he always hangs around the back of the school (I know, also typical), so I had to lure him.
I had an idea to sit down and do homework there. It worked and this is how it went.
A: What you doing, NERD?
Me: Homework, obviously.
(A kicks me, knocking me to my back.)
Me: Stop please.
A: Or what?
(A now has his foot on my chest and proceeds to push down on it.)
Me: I…..can’t……..breathe.
A: Do something then.
(I then try to roll out of his way and run. I manage to outrun him.
It had worked.)
The next day, I went to the head-teacher and told him about the situation along with some texts I compiled and showed with the permission of the teacher. The teacher the next day EXPELLED the student and even got the police involved for physical abuse and cyberbullying. Honestly, I felt relieved. Now, I’m in secondary and he is at a completely different school than me.
To anyone that is being bullied, this shows that there is a way out of it, and violence isn’t the answer.”
7. Go Behind His Back? He'll Ruin Your Prom
Good luck getting a date now.
“So this happened a day ago (on Thursday) and our senior prom is today. Well, my friend (Guy A) was planning to ask one of his best friends (Girl) to prom with this big elaborate but sweet promposal. He based it around the show Big Mouth because it is something they enjoy together.
Well, this other guy (Guy B) isn’t well-liked by anyone as a lot of people find him annoying or overbearing.
He tends to make friends either through pity or by some materialist form (rides home, money, etc.). The day before, Guy B asked Guy A who he was going to prompose to and Guy A doesn’t say to keep it a big surprise. Guy B then asks if it’s Girl, and Guy A (who is really bad at lying) says, “I don’t know; we’ll see” to where Guy B just says, “Oof.
Okay.”
Come first period yesterday where myself and Guy A’s friend see Guy B but leave to make up an assignment for another class where we meet up with Guy A.
Fast forward a bit to second period where my phone, Friend’s, and Guy A’s phone are all blowing up with the same text message: “[Guy B] asked [Girl] to prom! He came to her class second period and did it in front of the entire class!”
I then got the text message from Girl which said one word, “Help.” Guy A falls into a fuming rage because he brought his stuff and was all excited to surprise Girl.
He also knew that Guy B KNEW what he was doing because our friends in our first period all said that Guy B was planning to ask Girl our “before someone else does,” which already throws everyone in a frenzy.
This becomes a hot topic for the next few periods with me giving information to different people in our friend group and to those who asked questions.
Guy A even confronted Guy B about it to where Guy B just lied and gave excuses. That’s when Guy A tells me that he is going to do the promposal anyway, but he’ll make Guy B watch. So I thought, what better way to spice this up other than telling Girl some special advice.
Our conversation went like this: Girl: “I really don’t want to go with [Guy B]…
what should I do?” Me: “Just tell him no and give back the stuff.” Girl: “But that’ll hurt his feelings!” Me: “So? Yours matter more. But make sure to tell him during 5th period, so he can spend lunch recovering.” (I knew Guy A’s promposal was going to be during lunch.) Girl: “Okay… I’ll give him the stuff during lunch. I’ll text him right now.” Me: “Good.”
I text her a thumbs-up emoji as Guy B sits behind me, gushing about how happy he is to go with Girl.
Normally I would’ve felt bad for condoning this behavior… but Guy B also was caught saying, “I wanted to ask a girl that wouldn’t say no.” Guy A begins to get gradually more and more excited as the bell for lunch creeps closer because he tells me how his small poster, flowers, and gifts are going to become a big show where he asks people to line up like there was an untouchable red carpet in the middle of the hallway.
He even asks his friends to hold big letters that say “P R O M?” on them and says he’ll run into the hall calling her his “Precious Ravioli.”
Lunch hits and I’m still convincing Girl to give Guy B back his stuff and I know that he’ll be hanging around our lunch spot because he wants to see Girl. I distract Girl with the help of Friend and my man by walking around and convincing her that she isn’t in the wrong.
When we get the signal, we head to the lunch area where I make direct eye contact with Guy B who knows exactly what is going on.
Guy A’s promposal happens as he now planned it and I discretely take Guy B’s stuff out of Girl’s hands while hiding to the side so that no one else would know she got promposed to already. Everyone cheers and is excited for Girl and Guy A, but I can see Guy B’s hurt expression.
We manage to return Guy B’s stuff, but he is throwing his stuff around and is visibly upset.
The day ends and Guy B won’t be going to prom with anyone because he got rejected and didn’t want to look “like a loser” promposing to another girl.
Guy A laughs and is ready to have a good time tonight with Girl, at least that’s what he tells me while I’m writing this. And we find out that Guy B had a LIST of girls who he was ready to ask to prom because they “wouldn’t say no.” Funnily enough, two other girls he asked shot him down harder than Guy A did.”
6. Try To Get My Crush To Hate Me? It'll Backfire Hard
“This is a story that happened quite a while ago, about three years ago since it happened. It happened when I was in year 11. (I was 15-16.)
As 15-16 year olds do, I was constantly looking for a partner but constantly only finding crushes. There was this girl that I found just amazing, however. This girl, let’s name her Rebecca, was pretty close to one of my newer friends – he shall be called John.
Now, despite me being nice to Rebecca, she always seemed to have it out for me. Every time I’d smile at her, she’d roll her eyes. Every time we crossed paths in the hallway, she’d actively avoid me. Her friends would laugh at me for seemingly no reason at all. This went on for a solid month straight, and John would always seem to hide away when Rebecca’s entourage would walk up to me and shout, along the lines of ‘You’re f*cking disgusting’ or something similar.
Now Rebecca is the sweetest person you’d ever know.
She would tell her friends to leave me alone when they’d shout things at me, and she’d mime the word ‘sorry’ every time they would start. They knew that I had a crush on her, how? Well, I knew exactly how. John was the only person I told that secret to. A plan was forming. John had f*cked me over countless times in the past, but if you’ve been to a British school, then you know that’s just our way of life.
Without going master race, we can usually take things better. But this was different; this was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
I kept John as a friend, despite him being disloyal. He’d still tell me things about his personal life. I knew that he was in an Instagram group chat with Rebecca and a few of her friends. So I needed a way to ‘infiltrate’ it.
I figured John wouldn’t let me in, and I couldn’t speak to Rebecca because I’d get too nervous, and Rebecca’s friends? No chance. So I listened more and more, and one of Rebecca’s friends had a Dan and Phil Stan account (sign of the times, huh?) and she met a long-distance friend through it. Perfect. Time to make a Phan account.
Now I made it quickly and followed her (she had significantly less followers than Rebecca’s friend, so I had a bigger chance of her following me back) and a few other accounts about YouTubers.
She followed me back! Obviously, I couldn’t just rush into her dm’s and ask her to add me in the chat, but the weekend was sooo long. I did it with a bit of grace. I had messaged her before asking her to add me. Just talking about what our schools are like (ended up pretending to be at our sister school, so I had less chance of being caught), the memes popular at the time, and such, so I set up a normal conversation and asked her about her friends.
She told me about John, Rebecca, and the others. I asked if they were nice and if I could meet them and her in real life, me playing dumb of course. I knew she didn’t know them personally. She says how she only knows them online. I ask to join the chat, but she, unfortunately, didn’t let me in the main one, but a smaller one with just her, some other Phan account that was never active, and John.
So I started speaking like I thought someone who ran a Phan account would, obnoxious. But I still tried to be likable. John liked me so much that he proposed a question to me, “Would you like to be in a bigger chat?” (Paraphrasing, it went along the lines of that.)
Now, I was added to the chat. John was literally nocturnal, and admittedly so was I, so I was added at like 3 am.
Which was good! I could look through the chat with no questions asked. I found messages John sent about me. I screenshotted them and waited, yes, I was so excited, I waited for about 5 hours on a school night to do this and started talking to everyone before they went off to school and was as nice as possible, so Rebecca and her friends would actually look at my messages.
So I went off to school and played dumb the entire day. I was so smug every time John would mention the group chat, I must’ve looked so suspicious, haha.
After school, I waited until everyone was online. I used my fake Instagram account, added my real Instagram account, and sent the screenshots. John went offline. Rebecca’s friends were confused and questioned how I was let in the group chat.
I told them everything. John was a lying piece of sh*t. Rebecca felt bad for me and spoke to me privately. She said all the things I’d apparently said about her like I wanted to r*pe her, I took pictures of her, and John told her I m*sturbated over her. I told her I never told John such things, and she believed me. John messaged me, shouting at me and he blocked me.
Rebecca must’ve told her friends that I wasn’t all that bad. They didn’t treat me like a friend, but they were at least normal. Is that the end of the story? Pfft, no. Wouldn’t be much of a story then, would it?
John left me and the others as friends, but we made new ones pretty quickly. Me and Rebecca would speak regularly after that, we’d send each other pictures, have deep conversations, and joke.
She asked if she could move to one of my classes! I said yes and sent the message making it look really enthusiastic. She must’ve noted that. She asks me if I really did have a crush on her. I said yes because I still did. She asks if I want to go out. I say something really complicated to her. I said that I would want to go out, but not now.
I wouldn’t want to lose her like I thought I would at the time. I said that I’d want to live with her in due time, but just not now when things are complicated at school. She somehow understood and said she kind of felt the same way, but either way, our feelings were known.
I spent every living moment with her, meaning I got to speaking with her friends.
Her friends were comfortable with us being a kind of thing. I could consider them my friends at that point, so we started speaking privately as well. Rebecca’s friend used to have a crush on John. That’s the reason why she hated me so much because she wanted to look good in front of him. She sent screenshots of their private dm’s. John had a crush on Rebecca.
I was so angry.
John wanted to f*ck me over just so he had a better chance with her. Now, I would say this is the point where I did something nasty to John, and at the time, I wish I did. But Rebecca was good. She advised me not to, despite everything. And I was thankful for it.
A few months later, school had calmed down and we were moving onto college.
She bought her own place, and I moved in.
Two years strong me, and Rebecca have been going out. Even though Rebecca has no clue, every six month anniversary we have, I make a new social media account and send me and Rebecca’s anniversary pictures. He sees every one of them. He hasn’t had a partner that I know of since; maybe he hasn’t gotten over her.
Thanks for reading my story! I’d be surprised if you read this far, quite the story in my opinion.”
5. Won't Let Me Study In Study Hall? Good Luck Using Your Google Account
“This story is amazing.
What happened is that in study hall (scheduled every Thursday and Friday) a kid named Connor (random name) decided to start playing music very loudly in study hall, so I asked him to stop. Of course, he said, “Ok sure” and turned the volume up higher and then started talking to his friends. Naturally, I decided to tell the sub on duty (6th grade by the way), and she said she would do something about it and she said this: “Be nice, and stop talking please.” Guess what? He did not even do a thing, so I just moved to a desk as far away as I could and just sat without anything to do.
I tried to work, but I couldn’t.
Our school gives the student their own emails such as a legal first name then legal last name and then a random number and the password is the first letter of the first and last name, 4 digits randomly generated, and the randomly generated number on the email.
The next week:
We had a project that we share to our tech teacher through Google Slide,s and it is a presentation, so we have to log into the account while the smartboard projector is on, but it hides the password (there is a way to show your password by clicking on a button next to the place you put your password into).
Of course, that kid being as dumb as he is, he decided to click it, so I remembered his password and already knew his email name.
When I got home:
When I got home, I headed straight for the computer and logged in the account and deleted his homework documents but did not remove them from the trash filter. and then I logged him out and changed the password.
When I got to Writing and Grammar class:
We had a homework thing to work on an essay which I deleted from his account and the teacher emailed another teacher to reset his Google account and I went home, rinse and repeat, but I changed his password to something along the lines of *&6adsf&54ad*5fa8$adf+8asd% and also copied his internet IP then used an IP stresser on him, so he could not log me out.
The next morning:
The same thing happened except that the tech teacher emailed the other one back and said that she can’t change it. I thought it was gg.
The last week of school:
And then somehow on the last week of school, it got reset again, and he changed his password to a friend’s password, and he is probably even worse than the other. So I knew both passwords and I changed them to another broken keyboard.”
4. Ruin My Birthday? I'll Ruin Your Job
Can’t argue with evidence.
“This isn’t a cry for attention.
Warning: This contains Suicidal themes.
Some backstory: I have this teacher we’ll call ST- Sick teacher, and his asthma is severe, so for six weeks, we had this awful teacher. We’ll call him ET- Evil teacher. I always sit with my bag on my lap for easy access to my asthma pump as it can get bad. At the time, I was making friends that, for simplicity’s sake, we’ll refer to as F1, F2, F3, and F4, for friend 1, 2, 3, and 4 respectively.
Onto the story.
This happened earlier this year and, to be honest, I never thought someone could be as evil and disgusting as this teacher.
He would always pick on you if you missed one word. One Freaking Word! Anyways, it was a small group of 10-15 people, and this was science.
Back to the story: The first day I had him, he seemed like an okay teacher, so we weren’t bothered as we were rowdy 13-14 year olds. We would get on with the lesson and that would be that. Then came the second lesson, and oh boy, I was not ready for the storm about to hit.
I was doing my work, as you do.
ET came up to me and asked, “Why have you not done what I asked? Are you slow?” At that point, I thought he was talking to the kid next to me, who, in fact, was slow. I told him about the kid, and he says, “I was talking to you, you fool.” That confused me because I did my work. (Side note, my writing is really small, but it looks decent).
I ask him what he meant and his response? It was, “Where? I don’t see it. Redo it but bigger!” He then proceeded to rip out my page of work. I asked ET why he did that to my book. He then sent me out for “disrupting the class.”
The HT (headteacher) knew that I wouldn’t be with her for no reason. She asked and I explained, but nothing got done.
The teacher carries on, verbally abusing me and my friends. They always got sent out for the dumbest reasons. It then got so severe that I started cutting. I still do whenever I remember him. Heck, I even tried strangling myself multiple times. It then came to my birthday, and I was smart enough to record him calling me and my friends pathetic. I deleted it since, but I think that I’ve got another recording of him.
I’m not sure. I showed the recordings to HT, and she said that me and ET would get pulled out of lesson along with any people who can prove I’m not lying.
A few days later, it happens. The convo went something like this
HT-“ET, I’ve had multiple reports of you verbally abusing DatWeebyBoy for a few weeks. Is this true?”
ET-“No, he’s just lying to get me fired!”
Me-“No, I have evidence and witnesses to prove that you’re lying!”
F1-“Just yesterday you said that because he didn’t have a certain page in his planner.
He was being ‘awkward, pathetic, and lying.'”
F2-“Don’t forget that he humiliated you for sitting with your bag on your lap”
F4-“Or how he threatened to get you expelled for continuously not doing enough work because of your writing/”
F3, the slow one-“And that he called you slow.”
Me-“Well ET, you still think I’m lying?”
ET-“You paid them to say that, didn’t you? Just to get me fired. I see right through how manipulative you are!”
HT-“I think enough has been said, DatWeebyBoy, play your recording and go.”
So I did, and me and the four friends left.
Apparently, he got fired. I hope he did.”
3. Steal My Glasses? You Deserve What I Have Coming For You
“Background:
Last night, I was staying up late and got zero sleep and I thought was going to be a good idea just to not do anything but sleep today, just being useless as a Homo Sapien. (Yes I know this was a bad idea because our school is in the bad part of the town), so I knew something was going to happen to me. (By the way, I didn’t care what was going to happen to me at the time.)
So I was in my first block all fine, but my second block, I had some problems but was alright, but my third block is when everything went apesh*t.
As soon I got to class, there was a sub. I thought, oh more sleep it is, but I was unaware that the sub didn’t care what anyone did, so I slept all block but accidentally waking up due to the class, but something was different. There was no pain on my arms due to my glasses. (Yes, I sleep with my glasses on.) I felt my face but no glasses, but I noticed something there was an arm from another pair of glasses.
At the moment, I was like, oh shoot, somebody broke my glasses, but it wasn’t mine.
I then asked the sub what happened. She said that all of the kids ran out of the class to see a fight. “Oh, but did you see what happened to my glasses?” I asked. She said, “No, I didn’t.” I then walked out looking for my glasses but no sign of them.
I went to the vice-principal, and I asked her to check the cams outside of the classroom when the fight happened.
Everyone left but one person left 10 seconds after. I asked who that was; she said it was , but I said it wasn’t him because I had known him since forever. She said, “Are you sure?” I said, “With my life I am,” then I saw someone else run out of the classroom. I asked who was he. She said, “I don’t know; it’s too blurry to recognize (now these cams were 20 years out of date).” i did some process of elimination through the class’s roster, and it was EK.
(Now EK was the most hated person you could find in a class. He took showers every MONTH, so he stank mostly all the time, he was loud, and bragged about anything like, “Oh, I finished first” and stuff like that, and he stunk of w**d.
So I figure out who most likely did it, so I tell the vice-p that that was most likely him that did it, and as soon as I say that, Ek messages me that he is holding my glasses for “300 USD.” Firstly, this confirmed my suspicion about him, secondly, he texted me to meet him in the bathroom in a certain hall, so I tell the vice-p what just happened.
He immediately took my phone for what I thought was she was going to see the text, but she took it and did something on her computer and then printed a note on ISS punishment and said 1 day of school suspension. (This isn’t the first time I was caught with a phone.)
So me and her get a police guard walking around the school. He and I walk into the bathroom and Ek is there.
The Revenge:
So he walks in and asks me for the money.
I said can we do something else in return, but he said, “No money, no glasses,” then the police guard walked in then put EK in cuffs told him you have the right to remain silent, and EK said that the glasses were his and then struggled a little bit then gave up. The police guard asked if I wanted to press charges. I told him I have to ask my mother, then he was put into temp jail. She said yes, and he got charged with theft and resisting arrest.
He was already a failing student, so he had all of that put on his permanent record and basically has to retry the whole grade, and he lost a job opportunity at Burger King.”
2. Don't Mess With This Student
“So this story takes place during the winter of my fifth-grade year, so around 2014. This involves my teacher who we’ll call Mr. H. Mr. H was a massive a**hole who constantly abused students he didn’t like. He would verbally yell at students who were socially withdrawn, and he had a bias for his cute female students (an important detail for later).
An example of his actions come from multiple years, my brother witnessed him kick a desk at a student who was minding his own business.
I myself witnessed him throw a book at a girl I knew. At the time, we were reading a book in class. It was before class began, pretty much a 5 minute period for everyone to get their sh*t done and ready for class.
Our schedule did run on a 5 period format, and we were the first year that followed this format, so this was new.
The girl in question was just reading a book from the library, and this was English class, mind you. Mr. H didn’t like this much and grabbed the book we were reading and threw it straight at her head. While it was a soft throw, it still hit her, and when she looked up, he told her to read the book. I could see tears in her eyes.
Now let’s get to my experiences with Mr.
H. So, I have a litany of mental disorders. But the one you need to understand about this story is I have Autism and Intermittent Explosive Disorder, which is a lethal combination when I get angry.
Now kickball was a trigger, and Mr. H insisted on being a pitcher. So one day, my anger boiled over after having a bad game. I began to have a fit and hit a teacher multiple times which they were used to.
When Mr. H walked over and grabbed my arm super hard and began to pull me, I in my state pulled away and pushed back. This caused him to grab both my arms and yank me forward, and he began yelling at me.
Now while the incident would’ve been me getting kicked out of kickball for the day and me calming down without much incident; however, my anxiety and I completely meltdown.
Now I don’t really condemn my actions when I calm down, but Mr. H wasn’t trained in this area as we come to know. So Mr. H had no actual obligation to step in and actually held the school at risk if he injured me.
This would be shown after the fact, as from where he restrained me, which was the bicep and upper forearm area. I had multiple huge bruises because he had gripped my arms with full strength.
My parents were upset at this, but the school’s faculty didn’t do anything about this because of the fact that it was a meltdown situation.
I understood this, and after my parents had calmed down, they understood as well. After this, however, is where the fun part begins. A couple of months pass after this incident, and we’re now in the winter. Our area was expecting a snowstorm, and it was supposed to start around 3:15 PM.
So our school switched to a shortened schedule, and the classes were shifted around.
I ended up getting into the fifth period around the time I’m supposed to go to a Social Skills class, which was a time where I would interact with a bunch of kids and was able to do what I wanted within reason. The timing was crazy, like I literally had to leave right after class started.
I, the kid who was black and white and followed everything to the letter did as I knew, and when the time came, I walked up and handed my sheet to track my behavior.
He looked at me and said what was going on. I explained I needed to leave to go to my class, and this set him off.
He began to yell at me about how I’m constantly leaving for no reason and that I’m probably skipping and trashing other kids. Mind you, the entire class is in there and watching this happen quietly. I tell him that I just need to go, and he tells me no and that I’m staying.
I just look at him and feel my blood boiling.
I had an IEP, which stated not only that I had to be in the class, but I was also allowed to leave, so I just walked out of there. He followed behind me and grabbed my arm hard. I turned and yanked it back before continuing to walk. Mr. H just leaves the kids in the classroom and just follows behind me.
I stare at him angrily as he says that he’s going to report me and get me detention and potentially suspended.
We made it to the classroom which was just two hallways away.
I walk in and just tell the teacher he’s threatening me. I go and sit close and listen to them argue about me needing to be in class with my special ed teacher saying this is my class. He said that I don’t need these kids and that I need to be in his class learning because I’m not idiotic like the rest.
After another minute and him realizing he won’t win after hitting the idiot button, he leaves.
Teacher yells down the hall about the IEP and slams the door at a teacher level hard but not super hard. After this, I just finish my day and get home. Snow doesn’t start when it says it will, so my dad takes me up to get my mom who worked 30 minutes away.
The two of us are talking, and he mentions school.
I mention what happened and when he asks for more details, I realize I can use this to get the teacher fired. After the bruises thing and the failed report filed, I had gotten done with him and he had gotten harder on me.
As I said, he pushed away kids who he didn’t like and treated them like garbage. Drill Sergeant mentality I guess. Other kids didn’t like him as they were talks about working to get Mr.
H fired. I joined in, and we never really had an opportunity until now.
I tell my dad everything, every single detail, and he is f*cking livid. Dad proceeds to tell mom and he decides to go with me to the school, so we can tell the story, so the next day rolls around and he brings me in. We know the principal well; he’s worked with us since first grade, and we had a nice relationship.
He liked my ability to retell stories without leaving details out, including things that incriminated me.
So when we sit down to do a report, he wants to hear everything. So I proceed to retell the story to him, and by the end, he’s f*cking p*ssed.
The story is retold to the district, who proceeds to suspend Mr. H for multiple days and is under review. Word gets out that it was most likely me who got him suspended, and people who didn’t like him are happy.
After this, I get taken out of his class for the year and just do the work in the special ed room which isn’t hard considering I was already above my grade’s reading level and the school reading comprehension.
I leave that school and I hear the next year that Mr. H got canned because of subsequent reports that were given.
Not only had stories of his strict standards and potential abuse, but he had inappropriate relations with students in the middle school because he coached the girls’ Volleyball and basketball team. Managed to track down his Facebook. The man hasn’t been able to find work as a teacher since.
F*ck that guy.”
1. "Friend" Gets Friendly With My Ex, So I Kill Her Social Life
“If you saw my other post with my ex man flipping out on me, you could understand more of this. But for those of you who’d rather not take the time to read it all, here’s an actually pretty long summary of the relationship.
I dated this guy, A, out of pity. Even when he was trying to convince me to be with him after I told him I could possibly be in a relationship with another guy soon, he was manipulative.
For example, “Just… Think about who needs it more.” Anyway, I accept, and then it begins. During the relationship, he gave me gifts and I went to his house a few times. He ended up being too much for me to deal with. His emotional baggage was just God awful. I told him I couldn’t help him, so he thought that’s why I broke up with him.
The real reason was because he was clingy, manipulative, and completely ignored when I was uncomfortable with something. Actually, one time, he got mad at me for being uncomfortable when he said, in public, that he wanted to f*ck me after we broke up. And he went full r/ niceguy on me when I didn’t answer his message asking me to go to the mall for 3 MINUTES (which is what the other post is, the screenshot of him flipping out on me).
So now after all that, my friend, AR, knowing what he had done and what he had said, promised me to not talk to him.
She talked to him. She even used jokes that I was using with my friend, K, to talk to A with. That was just horrible. She told me, “You can’t tell me what to do” when I reminded her about her promise. She also said that I had “treated her like sh*t for the past three years.” I didn’t, in fact, she is such a huge hypocrite because, for example, when we were younger, we had this thing where if I wore a ponytail, she would pull it.
Hard. So when she wore a ponytail, I gently tugged on it, and she yelled at me, running to her locker in tears as if I pulled her hair out of her scalp. That’s just one example. So I ended that friendship. This was the day before she left for a Disney cruise.
When she came back, she tried to sit with me and my friends at breakfast.
So I threw her backpack (which had a huge rip on the side already) onto the floor right in front of A’s table. When AR came out of the line for food, she tried to yell at me, but I just told her that she can’t sit with me after what she said. She, even now, sits with A at breakfast every day. At lunch when she tried the same thing, I moved her books to the seat across from A.
She came back, yelled at me again, but I just told her that if she wants me to treat her like sh*t, I’ll treat her like sh*t and that she should bond with her new friend. She got her stuff away from the table and moved across the cafeteria from me, and A. Apparently, she gossiped about me to other people at the table she was at because someone came and sat next to me and asked if I was bullying AR.
AR now leaves the cafeteria with A and goes to the office to eat I assume.
I turned every mutual friend of ours against her, so they now laugh at A and AR with me. “Their family tree is probably a wreath..” These f*cktards low-key look related. Dirty blonde hair, glasses, etc. She even no longer comes to Pokemon club (Don’t judge me; it’s actually fun there and not full of neckbeards) after school.
I f*cked up A and AR’s life pretty hard. I mean, she lost multiple friends and made an enemy out of the person she should have feared more than anyone. And I know that sounds like a stupid movie line, but just about everyone in the school knows about my anger issues. I even accidentally gave my friend K a scar when I kicked her ankle too hard. I could tap AR on the shoulder and she starts screaming and crying; imagine if I slapped her or kicked her.”
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