People Divulge Their Most Satisfying Stories Of Destructive Revenge
27. Want To Break Every Roommate Code Of Conduct? Smell This
“I lived with my friend (Katie) and her younger sister (Sarah; ~18 months younger) for a year at uni. At the start of the year, we had all agreed that the communal areas were to be kept clean and clutter free since it was a small flat and had a weekly cleaning roster.
We also agreed that if we were going to bring any guys back to the flat, to warn the others just so we know who is coming and going for security reasons since the student area we lived in was notorious for break-ins.
Sarah became the biggest most disrespectful pain in the butt. She started off cleaning and helping out around the flat and telling us when she had guys over (there were a lot of guys she brought over), then as the months passed she stopped telling us she was bringing anyone over altogether.
Katie and I would wake up in the morning to random mostly strangers in the kitchen eating our food, using our shower or just dashing out of the flat holding his belongings.
Sarah stopped cleaning (argued she was cleaning when confronted), left a huge mess in the kitchen after cooking and never cleaned up, and there was a horrible odor coming from her bedroom because she never opened her window or cleaned out her personal trash (used sanitary pads and tampons would sit in her bin for a week or more).
She was really unhygienic, had halitosis but never kept up oral hygiene and rarely had showers.
This next bit is when I got beyond livid with her. One weekend Katie was out of town, and their parents rang Sarah for a catch up around 4 pm one Friday afternoon.
Sarah tells them she can’t talk and that she’s got a 20% assignment due a few days later which she had to work on. 20 mins later one of her many guys comes over (she didn’t tell me prior) and she didn’t resurface while I was up – I went to bed around 10 pm.
I had a 35% assignment due the week following, so the next few days I’d planned to dedicate to this assignment.
That night I woke at about midnight to Sarah and her crashing around in the kitchen. Lots of laughing, screeching, pots and pans crashing about, TV blasting in the lounge.
I was angry but didn’t get up to tell them to stfu (I should have in hindsight). I fell back asleep and woke again at about 3 am to them going through all the draws in the bathroom and slamming them shut.
Sarah and her dude went through my personal drawer and Katie’s personal drawer looking for rubbers.
They even tried to break into Katie’s room looking for some, but Katie had locked her door and hidden her spare key (smart move). They crashed about and slammed the bedroom door and then proceeded to hook up loudly.
I had to sleep with a movie playing through headphones for the rest of the night just so I couldn’t hear them.
I got up at 6 am with next to no sleep, to a filthy kitchen with food smeared on the bench, tv still on, some of my personal food missing, pots and pans left on the stove with food in them, and my belongings from my draw in the bathroom on the floor.
Oh, and the front door was unlocked. I left her a mean note outside her door calling her a rude and disrespectful bee with an itch and that she’s not the only one who lives in the flat. I went to the library for the day and Katie said she had a good cry to her and their parents after reading my note but they didn’t care what she had to say after I’d already told them.
That night was my last straw with Sarah after months of her being a disrespectful bee with an itch. She never apologized for that night and didn’t even clean up the tornado mess in the kitchen and lounge.
Every time myself or Katie would confront her, she’d cry and say she didn’t mean it and she’s trying to be better, but nothing ever changed.
Since Sarah’s room was a pigsty (actually that’s insulting to pigs since pigs are cleaner than she is) and had a feral odor coming from her room, I went to the store and brought sardines and broccoli. I got the liquid the sardines were in (it absolutely reeked) and poured it along with blended day old cooked broccoli (and the reeky water) into a spray bottle.
While Sarah was out, I went into her room and sprayed that feral concoction on her clothes that were on the floor, the ‘clean’ clothes in the closet, in her shoes, and in her bed.
I tipped the remaining offensive-smelling concoction into her shampoo.
I removed all evidence of the sardine concoction from the flat. Once rubbish day had been, I was in the clear. Sarah never took the flat rubbish out, so how would she know what was in the bin? Since she emptied her bin once in a blue moon, I put a sardine in her bin wrapped in some tissues and left it.
Well, the fish started rotting, and the clothes and shoes reeked. Sarah being the moron that she is, didn’t empty her bin til a week after I put the sardine in there.
Honestly, I can’t even describe how bad it smelled. I came back from uni one day to Sarah crying to Katie because she couldn’t get rid of the smell.
Katie got so mad and yelled at her for not cleaning and being unhygienic for literally months. Sarah had cleaned her room from top to bottom and aired it out for weeks but the smell never left her room completely and was still in her bed sheets that she didn’t wash.
When their parents came for a visit, they yelled at Sarah for smelling, her mum screamed that they didn’t raise Sarah to be so disgusting, that was music to my ears.
Her (super annoying) friends stopped turning up unannounced (and at all), and guys stopped coming over too.
I never expected my reeky concoction to work such wonders.
My room and the rest of the flat smelt fine, the lingering smell was just in Sarah’s own room. I was astounded that it took that sardine concoction to get Sarah to clean and air out her room, was the smell of rotting tampons not offensive enough to her?! Sarah failed her assignment, I got 91% in mine, and that made me so happy. That’s the only evil thing I’ve ever done, and I’ve not told anyone what I did, but personal revenge never felt (and smelled) so good.”
26. Use My Pants To Make Yourself A Cape? I'll Send You To Jail
“So this happened when I was 14/15. My mother was married to a man who had an adult son from a previous marriage – I think he was mid-20s. He lived the hippie life – literally on the streets by choice, and about once a year or so he would hitchhike his way to our house with his friends, do copious amounts of laundry and “smoke stuff,” and generally just take over as if it was their house.
They even left the gas burners on once because they ‘forgot’ they turned the stove on.
Like any teenage girl, I was obsessed with my clothes. I had laundry sitting in the dryer, including these awesome corduroy pants I had only worn once.
Step-bro and friends are doing laundry and instead of doing something normal like moving my stuff aside or putting it in my room, they decide, ‘oh man it would be so dope to cut these up and make like a sweet cape!’ So that’s what they did.
I saw step-bro wearing this ‘cape’ and recognized the material. ‘Are those my pants?!?!?’ I exclaimed.
‘They were in the laundry, man, ya know, like finders keepers.’ I was furious and his dad wouldn’t do anything about it. My mom was furious because she had just bought these for me and they were pricey.
Mom didn’t like this annual visit anyhow, but to keep her marriage, she put up with it.
I wanted to get back at step-bro but he had nothing of value because of his lifestyle. Then I remembered I overheard my parents fighting and my mom had mentioned step-bro had gotten a girl pregnant, and the kid was like 2-years-old and he hadn’t so much as given the girl a penny or even seen the child since it was born.
So the next day, my parents were at work, step-bro is hanging out, listening to music or something, I decide to call the cops. I wasn’t sure what to say, but I told the dispatcher I knew of someone who might have a warrant out for failure to pay child support (now before you say, how would a teenager know about that? Well my birth father is a demon and was at one point nearly arrested for that same offense).
The dispatcher asked the name of the person, and I gleefully gave step-bro’s name and they confirmed there was, in fact, a warrant out for him.
I gave my address and waited.
Not 20 mins later, cops roll up. They knock and I let them in, and lead them right to him, ‘he’s right here, officers!’ I couldn’t stop smiling.
They cuff him and take him off to jail. An hour later my mom calls the house after step-bro had used his phone call to call his dad, and I tell her exactly what I did. She whispered, ‘good job,’ but then pretended to loudly reprimand me as she was with step-dad.
Step-dad couldn’t get the fine and bail together fast enough, so step-bro had to sit in jail overnight.
Still makes me happy 20 years later to remember seeing him being taken away in a cop car. My mom luckily divorced that and is now married to a very nice man.”
25. Butt The Line? Wait Again To Be Disappointed Twice
“I was at an amusement park earlier this year. A brand new ride had just opened so of course there was a huge line for it.
I had taken my gf that day and bought us Fast Passes to skip the lines.
Fast passes cost nearly three times as much as a regular pass there.
It was around noon, on a hot day, and my gf and I head over to the new ride. We circled it and weren’t able to see any fast pass lines.
But we both wanted to go on the new attraction so we just got into the regular line, the signs said we were about 45 mins from the front. Immediately behind us was a large lady [EM], with her son [EK] who was about ten.
My gf then spots some people entering a different cue wearing purple wristbands (fast passes).
So we go past the boy and his mom, exit the line and enter the new line. Since it had just opened I guess they hadn’t made an official sign for it yet, but there was a little gate with a paper taped on to it that read FAST PASS & Wheelchairs.
We go through, and there are about 20 people in front of us now.
After about a minute, we see the EM and EK behind us again. I didn’t make much of it, they probably hadn’t seen the entrance just as we had.
But my gf whispers in my ear they don’t have fast passes.
I look at their wrists, and she’s right. Their wristbands are green, the regular ones. She asks me if maybe we should say something so they don’t waste their time.
Poor kid, I think to myself, he probably wants to get on the ride as quickly as possible, they’re just gonna send them back when they reach the front.
So I tap on EM’s shoulder, and say, ‘Excuse me, this line is for purple wristbands only.
They won’t let you go through here. You can go back –’
‘They’ll let me through, they always do!’ She exclaims.
My agirl nd I look at each other like wtf.
‘Okay, sorry!’ I reply.
About three mins go by, and I guess we had been distracted for a little bit, cuz I see there’s about a 5-foot gap in the line in front of us.
So we turn to move forward. And EM shoves passed us, her son right behind her.
I open my mouth to say something but decide against it. They’re not gonna get on the ride anyway, so there’s really no point. Staff is really strict about the wristbands.
We finally reach the front of the line, and the ride operator asks to see EK and EM’s wristbands. They were clearly trying to hide them by keeping their hands behind their back.
EM quickly shows her wristband, runs past the attendant and immediately starts getting on the ride.
Her son does the exact same. The ride operator tells her that this is the Fast Pass Line and that she has to go back to the end of the regular line.
‘Okay, next time I will. I didn’t know,’ EM responds.
‘No, you’re gonna go, exit the ride and go to the back of the line.’
She lowers her son’s harness, and then hers.
‘I already lowered the harness, I’ll use the normal line next time. Promise!’
The ride operator turns around and lets me and my gf through.
There weren’t any seats available on the ride anymore so I knew they were gonna get kicked off.
The ride operator walks to her station on the other side of the platform, presses a button on the console, and all the harnesses go up.
She walks towards us again and gives EM a dirty look. EM looks angry, like a demon from a horror movie angry. She violently gets up and out of the platform cursing the operator with her son right behind her.
Once off the ride, the EK looks back and spits on the seat.
The ride operator goes to get some Lysol wipes and cleans off the seat.
My gf and I sit on the ride and lower the harnesses, the ride operator leans in to make sure they’re tight.
‘They’re really angry,’ I jokingly tell the ride operator.
‘They will be when they find out he isn’t tall enough,’ she replies.”
24. Kill My Kitty? I'll Steal Your Show Dogs
“I had this really awful neighbor a few years ago.
She and her partner always did random crap to me and my stuff. Once she drew on my car with a sharpie (it was a male member), stole my garbage bins and hid them in her backyard.
I’ve called the police on her many times, but she’s got connections there so she was always let off.
Then she killed my cat. He was an outdoors cat, and while he was chilling, she fed him rat poison. How do I know? She told me so.
Apparently, he was ‘agitating’ her dogs so she killed him. Her dogs were fancy, top-notch, 10k a-piece dogs.
They were all show dogs and so freaking adorable. So I took all three of them and gave them to various friends/family members. One is in Canada, one in the UK, and another in Japan.
I didn’t think I’d get away with it, but she didn’t have any of those tracking microchips in her dogs so I literally just took off the collar and they were mine.
I moved shortly after that, but apparently, she’s still looking for them.”
23. Berate Me Where I Work? I'll Show Your Wife What Goes On Behind Closed Doors
“So I used to work for a phone repair store in the UK, and on many occasions, we have people that come in for repairs to their phone – from software reboots to full technical repairs. We had a guy that came with an older Samsung phone asking for a repair on their phone.
We’ll call this guy Sam (for the Samsung phone)
So I greet him and ask him what the issue is with his phone.
He starts to explain that certain parts of his phone’s screen are inactive and not working with pressure. A quick check shows that indeed the phone’s screen has issues, and I begin to ask some simple questions.
Me – ‘So, how long have you had the phone for?’
Sam – ‘Does it matter? You’re a repair shop, you can fix it.’
Me – ‘I need to ask as if we need to repair the phone we can do it in warranty.
If not you’d have to pay for the parts.’
Sam looks like I’ve literally asked him to sacrifice his first born child.
Sam – ‘Why the eff would I pay for an issue when it’s clearly a technical issue?’
I start to explain that some phones have a warranty to cover certain parts over a period of time.
He isn’t having it.
Sam – ‘I don’t know but as a customer of Samsung for 10 years, I think I should have this done for free.’
Me – ‘I’m really sorry but it doesn’t work that way. Looking up it on the system, your phone is just outside of the warranty, so to repair the screen it would cost £xx.’
I’ve done it now.
The guy starts up and starts bellowing at the top of his voice. Customers in the shop stop and stare and all I can do is look on as this guy starts to tear into me.
Sam – ‘Listen to me, you’re going to repair my phone you fat (I am a slightly larger built guy – it’s a regular thing that gets thrown my way).
I’ve been with Samsung for years and they would be disgusted at your customer service. I want your manager. I want to talk to someone who isn’t an arrogant little poop.
I wave over the manager and sit and listen while this guy explains how rude and belittling I was to this guy, how I was overcharging him for a repair when it should be free.
The manager knows this isn’t me and tries to explain the procedure. This guy full-on screams at the manager and causes such a scene that other customers turn and walk straight out. This guy is going to cause us to have no customers left.
The manager calls the Head Office and explains the situation. As a goodwill gesture, they will allow us to repair the phone for free. The manager lets the customer know and he sits downs happy with himself.
I have to sit and watch Sam smugly sit with my manager as he tells him how they should employ better customer service employees while booking on the phone.
I’m on the verge of tears and begin to serve the other shocked customers in the store.
My manager asks the guy if he’s backed up the phone, as part of the policy for repairs, customers are required to clear their phone before handing it over.
I brace myself as Sam suddenly roars up again.
Sam – ‘That’s disgraceful! I haven’t backed anything up and I have a hundred important contacts on that phone. If they are removed I will sue you and that (pointing at me again) over there for everything you have.’
So before this guy has an aneurysm in the store, and to prevent another explosion, my manager sighs and starts to back up the phone on the system (on the rare occasion we can back it up – for nice people.
I always do it for an older person, as they are always nice to me).
We get the guy to sign the paperwork and explain the repair procedure.
20 minutes later it’s done and he meets him outside the store. This lady is younger than Sam and very pretty.
Blonde hair, tall and slim – this will become relevant later. He starts to talk to her in the store and she looks in and laughs.
An hour later, I get a call from the head office. Apparently, this guy called them and explained the way I ‘acted’ to this guy (all lies about me being rude and threatening to him).
Even with back up from my manager, head office wanted to have an informal meeting with me as they wanted to retrain me on my customer service.
I was hurt. My manager was apologetic and knew that it wasn’t my fault but there was nothing I could do.
I’m not a person who is malicious or angry – but this was just unfair. When I left the repair shop, my manager explained that this guy told a lot of bullcrap about what I said to him, and his wife backed him up despite not being there (there are no cameras in the shop part where I work so they couldn’t verify if the woman had been there).
So I needed to ensure that this guy got some payback.
A few days later, the guy’s phone needed a screen replacement as well as a logic board, so the phone was cleared of all its data.
Part of our testing is to ensure that the software and some testing data are put onto the phone in case an issue comes up.
I start the process and begin to back up the phone as well as update the data. I thought to ensure that it wasn’t something on his phone which caused the issue, I would restore the phone to test.
Now, this guy isn’t very smart.
As his data streams onto the phone, you can see the file names and small thumbnails of the images as they upload. There are some standard photos – holidays, pictures of his wife, drinks (the typical middle-age ‘I’ve got a camera so I’ll take photos of everything’ type of thing).
Then some rather suggestive pics come up. This is normal when looking through people’s phones.
As I begin to minimize as I don’t really fancy seeing what this guy gets up to, several photos of this guy come up with a woman.
But this woman isn’t his wife. This is was of someone very different. This woman was black-haired.
Then another woman, a darker-skinned lady flashes up. I minimize this as I don’t want to see anymore, but I know I’ve got my payback.
This is my chance. I stop the process and clear the phone of data. I use the spare data, complete the checks and get the phone ready for collection.
I don’t condone what I did, nor do I recommend it. But you have to understand that once in a lifetime, the nice guy has a dark moment.
And this was mine.
So I call the guy and explain that his phone is repaired. ‘About freaking time’ was the response. He explains that he will be at the store in an hour (just before we close). I explain to my manager about this guy coming in, and due to being short-staffed, he said I’d have to deal with him.
He was worried this guy would start again on me. However, I wanted to help him with his phone.
So Sam sits down at my desk, with his woman beside him. I politely begin to explain the repairs but this guy doesn’t give a crap about the words out of my mouth.
He just looks at me in a condescending way – like I don’t know what I’m talking about. I’ve done this so much that I know more than you.
When I finish, I explain I need to put his data back on the phone.
I hear a ‘Hurry up will you, I’ve got to be somewhere to be other than sitting here with you.’ This came from the woman this time.
So she was just as rude as he was.
Without another word, I plug the phone in and begin the restoring process.
Now, our front desks have fairly large monitors at an angle so both customers and staff can see them as we do training with customers on new handsets, show them images of the repair, etc. Normally, I would minimize the software for the sake of the privacy of the customer.
Not this guy. I full-screen the software and ensure that the preview image is big enough for them both to see.
The shop is empty at this point, so I know no unsuspecting children are about to see this show.
The guy sits back and huffs.
The woman crosses her legs and sits back in the seat. The images begin to flash up. They talk about their dogs and the time they went for a weekend away. They comment on how nice Portugal was as a holiday when a picture of a sunny veranda flashes up and that they should go back this weekend.
I sit back and bite my lip. I’m worried that I’m being too petty.
‘Shame people like this guy won’t be able to afford first class. Shame.’ Witch. I smile politely at this woman looking at me with sympathy.
‘I suppose I won’t.’ I know that this is needed to knock them down a peg.
Then it happens. The lady with the black hair pops up, and immediately the guy knows he’s about to be rumbled. His face suddenly freezes, her mouth left open.
‘Is that xxx…?’
More images start to flash up on the phone. This guy knows he’s in deep trouble.
She turns in her chair to look at Sam. She looks disgusted.
I’ve never been so happy to see this guy sink into his seat. She starts to tear into him. Everything is spilling out about this guy and I’m happy to have front-row seats.
My manager comes around the corner as well as some of the technicians from downstairs from the shouting.
My manager looks at me, to them and then to the screen where a rather unflattering image of this guy with more varieties of women around him pop up.
My manager bites his lip to stop laughing and rests against the wall.
This woman has full-on gone now. She’s slapped Sam and is screaming anything she can at him. She runs from the shop screaming how it was over and she couldn’t face her friends now (turns out some of the women in the photos were personal friends of hers).
He gets up to leave and yanks his phone from the cable on the desk (this is going to cause issues later, as he could corrupt his data yanking it out – the CHERRY ON TOP).
He looks at me and I manage to poker face long enough that he doesn’t suspect anything.
He doesn’t know what to say. He just goldfishes at me.
He runs from the store after her shouting for her to come back. I don’t see them again. My manager comes over and while laughing, tells me not to do that again. The techs are laughing too at the show.”
22. Carry On With Multiple Partners? I'll Make Sure They All Get The Memo
“Several years back, a girl of mine had come over to my house to bring me some leftovers from a big family holiday party they had held at her house.
While she was there, I said I had to take out the garbage, and so she sat down to use my computer.
She logged on to her messenger and messed around on the computer for a bit. I came back in and she told me she had to hurry and get home because of some family emergency. I walked her out to her car and kissed her goodbye.
I went back upstairs and text messages to her phone were flashing all over my computer. She had forgotten to log out and her telecom service provider and the messenger company had an agreement where texts could be sent/received via the computer.
I read message after message for seven hours.
From the one-sided content of the messages, I was able to ascertain that she was currently with at least five different men and had actually left my house to go to one of her other partner’s houses to spend the night.
I continued to treat myself to beverages and read the messages well into the night.
At about 1 a.m., I went to the pay phone in front of my apartment and called the cell phone of the at whose house she was staying.
He answered groggily, and I asked him to pass the phone to her.
She answered jokingly thinking that it was one of his friends, but suddenly was filled with shock and dismay when she recognized my voice. She accusingly went on the defensive asking me how I’d gotten the number and yelled at me for being so suspicious.
She hung up and then wouldn’t answer either his phone or hers for the rest of the night.
I continued to get bottles from the fridge before compiling all of the texts and associated phone numbers in a Word file. I then added all of the texts she had sent me and pictures from overseas trips we had taken together that were slightly risqué but proved beyond all doubt that we were actually engaged in an intimate relationship.
I wrote her a harsh e-mail about how her betrayal was duplicitous and willfully cruel in nature and that she was worse than any street walker because at least in that profession all parties know all of the transactional costs of the relationship.
She had met my mother, she had been a bridesmaid at another guy’s little sister’s wedding and was discussing what furniture to buy after she got married to yet another guy. I compiled all of this information and sent it to her, making sure to CC every person on her messenger list.
All 70 of them. Her mother, father, sister, brother, friends, acquaintances, coworkers and all five guys who had sent her texts that day.
She became an urban legend among her friends, was forced to retreat from her social life, cancel her phone and close all of her SNS and messenger accounts out of shame.
I heard later that it became so bad that her parents had sent her overseas.
I got phone calls from the other guys the next day requesting a meetup. Four of the five of us got together over drinks to compare notes and text messages and dates/schedules confirming that everything I had discovered was true.
I vomited and shook with rage when I discovered what she was doing, but in retrospect, I am still amazed how fully she was able to manipulate and maintain five different, serious and long-term relationships simultaneously.
The complexity astounds me. I worried for a time about legal ramifications because we live in a country where slander laws can be applied severely (even in cases where the slander is true), but I never really regretted what I did. If I spared at least one other man the heartache, rage and trust issues I experienced, then it was worth it.”
21. Tear My Ligament? I'll Break Your Nose And Make You Pay
“I am a big guy (6ft, 275lbs) and I am not all muscle. I used to play soccer as a kid until I was 17 years old when I took a nasty knee injury that ended my hopes to play pro.
I started to gain weight over the years, partly due to bad habits and lack of exercise. I reached 325lbs at one point and it felt like I was about to die.
That’s when I decided enough was enough and it was time to turn my life around.
Started eating healthy, and slowly picked up the exercise bug again. I also joined a 6v6 soccer league in my city where my friends had a team and invited me to play. I’d play soccer once a week, go the gym thrice a week, then rest and chill.
It was great.
On a soccer pitch, you don’t expect 300lbs+ guys to be running around or even be skilled enough to dribble through defenders. Most teams wouldn’t even mark me (I played as a striker) until I scored a goal or dribbled through two of their players.
That earned me some respect on the pitch, I had competitor players come to compliment my performance after the games. I even made friends with league coordinators who at times cheered me after a nice pass or goal. It was just great…
I felt I was alive again.
The Wrong-doing
At the time of this story, I had lost about 30lbs (I was 295ish). We were playing a long Winter League which is basically 14 games (14 weeks) and we knew almost every team in the league…
except for one team. It was the 4th game of the season and we were scheduled to play the new team.
A bunch of big guys that looked like they were straight out of an MMA competition. The game starts, as usual, I am not marked…
I literally had enough space to park a truck with no defender giving me a thought. I received the ball, ran for the goal, then buried it in the bottom corner. Easiest goal ever. Five minutes later, I did it again.
Now I had their attention, and I was being marked by a guy who from now on we will call Idiot.
Idiot tried every trick to take the ball from me and failed. The more he tried the more frustrated he became.
Then at one point, I had the ball, dribbled and did a body feint and he dropped on his butt trying to correct his direction. I crossed the ball and we scored the third. It was humiliating but I didn’t mean it like that.
He stood up and walked right next to me and said:
Idiot: ‘You think you’re having fun, fatty?’
Me: ‘You’re not really going to talk crap on a recreational soccer game, are you?’
Idiot: ‘I am not talking crap. I am just asking if you’re having fun.’
Me: ‘Yeah, I am.
And you?’
Idiot: ‘I will have my fun in a bit.’
I didn’t really know what he meant but I didn’t give it a thought.
A few minutes later, I receive the ball again, Idiot is like a step or two behind me. The next thing I know is my left foot (the one planted in the ground as I received the ball with my right foot) is twisted, I hear a loud popping sound from my ankle and I am on the ground.
A moment later, a jolt of excruciating pain in my ankle made me groan like an elephant stomped on my foot. Idiot has taken an illegal sliding tackle on my left foot and it tore my ankle under my body weight.
Then, he literally stood up and leaned down on me and said: ‘Now I’ve had my fun.’ I was out of the game.
Fast Forward 24 hours, my ankle has swollen to the size of a large grapefruit. I see a doctor who diagnoses that my Anterior Talofibular Ligament has a 2nd-degree tear…
This is the strongest ligament in your ankle btw. I can’t play any sport and only use my foot lightly for 8 weeks minimum. I made sure I submitted an incident report to the league after the game, then kept all the receipts for medical treatment as a result of the injury.
It took a toll on me emotionally as it reminded me of my old knee injury that ended my soccer dreams.
I was determined not to slip into depression again though.
Even though I could no longer go to the gym or the pitch, I was still eating healthy and spent the next 8 weeks planning my revenge.
It took me 9 weeks to recover, which was better than the Sports Specialist predicted. I was back in the last game of the season before the two playoff games. We were playing Idiot and his team again. I had spent my whole recovery time doing my very best to get ready to make that game.
Took physio’s advice and applied them to the letter, did anything and everything to make sure that I am good to play.
I made it. Now it was time to exact revenge.
The Revenge
I concocted a plan with my friend Dave to exact revenge on Idiot, one that would leave him with a permanent memento from Yours Truly.
Idiot likes to stay behind then make a vicious tackle, push or shove when the player he is marking is about to receive the ball. I was going to use that against him the worst way.
In the game, I made sure Idiot felt like I was scared of him.
When I received the ball, I got rid of it too quickly, and if I was dribbling, I either passed it or let it go as if I was avoiding contact.
This encouraged him to stay with me and to scare me even more.
He literally played the first 15 mins of the game with a smug all over his ugly face.
That was about to change.
About 20 mins into the game, we get a corner kick. Dave goes to play the kick and I stand in the box, Idiot is two steps behind.
Dave was about to take the kick then he stopped and nodded ‘No.’ This meant Idiot was no longer in position and we couldn’t do what we planned to do. This happened a couple more times. Then it is the fourth corner kick towards the end of the first half.
Dave is taking the kick. He looks at me and he nods ‘Yes.’ Idiot is two steps behind me and is now marking me again. I put my hand up and shout, ‘HERE, DAVE’… Idiot now commits to me. Dave then goes on to play this sweet perfect cross right above my head level.
Idiot goes on to do his standard come-from-behind-and-do-something-nasty routine.
At that very moment, I plant both feet in the ground, expecting the shove from behind, lean backward and launch my body towards Idiot. He is going for the ball with his head, and I am going with my head for his face.
He perfectly planted his face in the back of my head (his head going forward, and my head going backward). I swear I could hear his nose break on the back of my head. We both fall to the ground and I drop my 290lbs fat butt on top of him, catching him with my elbow, straight into the eyebrow.
As I turn around on the ground, he has a cut on his eyebrow, his nose is broken and is literally pointing to the left, and he is bleeding. I shout, ‘FIRST AID KIT HERE PLEASE’ then tell everyone I was First Aid certified and start sitting him up and leaning his head backward to stop the bleeding.
In the process, I pinch his nose to check if it’s alright and he screams like a little girl. Then I say, ‘Oh, it seems your nose is broken.’ League Coordinators cart him out, and an ambulance picks him up a few minutes later.
After the game, he sent a message saying he is suing me for intentionally breaking his nose and cutting his eyebrow. The League Coordinators did not support his incident report and said that it was he who went for me from behind and that I couldn’t have anticipated that, let alone injure him so badly if it weren’t for his own force.
They also indicated that I was the first person to provide first aid to him after the fall. He had no leg to stand on, and his claim was dismissed.
Then I sent him a letter from my lawyer letting him know I was suing him for my injuries 9 weeks prior, supporting that with doctor’s reports, physio reports, and the league’s incident report where the League Coordinators concluded that his tackle was both illegal and deliberate.
He had received a warning from the league that he would be permanently banned for such behavior. The league then went on to ban him from participating in the games.
He reimbursed me $2,300 in medical costs.
I scored 3 goals that game. We won and made it to the playoffs, then we beat them again in the playoffs and won the league. I am still on track with my weight-loss.”
20. Think You're Always Right As The Client? We'll Bring You Down A Notch Or Eight
“The client is not always right.
I work at a big ad agency with large companies as our clients. We expect to work in partnership with our clients; we fire clients that treat us poorly. Usually, we treat each other with respect.
Our biggest client has 5 different teams we work with, and one of them was led by Baseball Dad.
BD was the type of neckless marshmallow who gets wasted at his kid’s baseball games and starts heckling the other kids. Just a boorish jerk.
He never approved any of our work, putting out awful stuff that his internal team made even though he is literally paying us millions of dollars to make ads for him. His product was struggling to sell, and he blamed us, even though we were killing it with the other 4 teams.
He didn’t know this, which comes back to bite him later.
Furthermore, he crossed several lines:
He was extremely chauvinistic. He used to call my female coworkers ‘sweetheart’ in the most condescending voice, comment on their clothes/bodies, and wink/smirk at me while they were talking because we are both men, I guess.
These women are highly accomplished, serious people and they are like family to me; huge misplay on his part.
BD was abusive to us. He would constantly interrupt us, tell us to shut up, call us ‘vendors’ and remind us he could fire us at any time.
BD would lie. He would tell his boss (actual nice guy but too busy to check closely) that we missed deadlines or forgot deliverables because he never checked his email. We would then have to awkwardly struggle to prove BD wrong without calling him a liar so we could keep the business.
He never owned up to anything he said to us on the phone.
The final straw took place on a call between BD and one of my project managers. I saw her run out of a room crying. She told me what BD said to her, in a 1 on 1 call, that she should worry less about budgets and more about wearing ‘that nice top’ she wore at our last presentation.
Gross.
Revenge time.
I told my cool boss that our team had enough of BD; we were at our wit’s end with his crap. Several of my coworkers were looking for new jobs. It’s hard to hire good people, so my boss asked me to give her a day to figure this out; she wanted to lose BD without the entire business.
The next day, she showed up with our IT guy, who set up a voice recording on our conference line. It’s illegal to record people without consent in my state, but BD was late to every call. Too bad, because if he ever had shown up on time, he would have heard the new message kicking off every call: ‘this call is being recorded.’ His team heard it and had no problem with it.
I suspect they hated him, too.
For the next two weeks, we recorded everything. Every word of it. One of my audio engineers made a supercut of every terrible thing BD said – every ‘sweetheart,’ ‘shut up,’ ‘no one cares what you think.’ My project manager even baited him into repeating what he said about her clothes on a budget call; this time, he literally said, ‘you’re much better at flirting than budgets, sweetheart.
That’s why I like you.’
The supercut sounded insane when played all together; it was an incredible piece of evidence. We sent it to his boss and his vice president and threatened to walk away from the work 2 weeks before product launch if BD wasn’t disciplined.
They immediately apologized and begged us not to leave; they said it would be handled by Monday.
My one sweet project manager BD had been so gross to got the best part of the revenge; she anonymously sent the supercut to his wife using the email address she had posted on LinkedIn.
I don’t know what became of that but I imagine it wasn’t good.
On Monday, BD wasn’t on the call. My boss snooped and found out that he had a few complaints prior, and got immediately wasted after we sent it through.
He didn’t see vendors as people, so he was shocked that his words towards us ‘counted’ against his 3 strike policy. Apparently, he melted down completely as he was being fired. He said it was all because we were incompetent, but the other 4 team leads had all put in their numbers and said that it wasn’t on our end; their products were slaying. Wish I could have seen it. I imagine he came home to a very angry wife as well.
We all hit the bar at the end of the day in his honor. Eff you Baseball Dad!”
19. Try To Take Him Out Of The ICU? She'll Snap Into Do-Or-Die Mode
“This story is about two people I’m friends with.
We’ll call one Rae and one Justin.
Some background: Rae and Justin grew up in an extremely restrictive, insular religious community that borders on being a cult. They both read a lot from a young age, even though reading outside of the religion’s material was discouraged, and so both of them grew increasingly skeptical and dissatisfied with their environment due to having this peek into the outside world.
In high school, this shared mindset brought them together, and they started secretly seeing each other. For context, was absolutely strictly verboten in this religious community. You went straight from single to married with zero in-between.
So when Justin and Rae’s parents caught them seeing each other, they forced them to get married.
To be clear, it wasn’t like they were even being intimate. They were basically driving around together and holding hands in the downtown square where all the kids hung out–very tame, sheltered-kid stuff). Rae and Justin started living together as husband and wife, but unfortunately for their families, putting those two together doubled their resiliency, and together they cooked up a plan to get out.
They set up a secret bank account at a bank outside the religious community’s influence since their families had access to their accounts, and everyone who worked at the main bank was also in the same community and gossiped about everyone’s financial transactions.
They started squirreling away in small amounts the families wouldn’t question being missing from their paychecks. When they were 20, they finally had enough to start over, and they got out. They basically left their house in the dead of night with nothing but what could fit in their car and uprooted to live across the country.
Pretty quickly after they moved, they decided to get amicably divorced, since they never wanted to be married anyway. They still lived together for a while, and basically became something between platonic roommates and each other’s only family. Over time, they started seeing other people.
Some partners were scared off by the weird relationship between them, but most got it and understood that Justin and Rae had basically bonded through mutual trauma. I also met both of them during this time, and we became close friends.
This whole time, both their families and other members of their community were relentlessly harassing them. People were showing up at their house at all hours, and they had reason to believe people were trying to steal their identities over the years, though they’d, fortunately, both put a freeze on their credit, so nothing ever came of it.
Then Justin had a bad accident.
A really bad accident. He was on his bike and a car blew through a stop sign without slowing down and plowed right into him. He had to be rushed to the hospital and landed in the ICU.
Rae was his emergency contact, and I was with her and some other friends when she got the call. I immediately drove her to the hospital with a couple of other people, and she was melting down (understandably). The hospital staff wouldn’t let us all in when we got there, but they let Rae in.
She came out periodically to let us know what was going on.
Justin wasn’t unconscious, but he was totally out of it and didn’t seem to know she was there, probably from the painkillers, but she was convinced he had permanent debilitating brain damage.
The group of us were just soothing her and reassuring her it would be fine. A friend of ours who worked at the hospital as an MRI tech was also stopping by when she could on her breaks and calming down Rae.
We’d been there all night and part of the day at this point, and the medical staff was giving us reason to be hopeful.
But things got worse.
To this day, no one knows how they found out, but 14 hours after Justin’s accident, his parents, uncles, and grandfather showed up.
They immediately had all of us removed from the ICU, Rae included. Unfortunately, as his ex-wife, she was no longer his legal next-of-kin and had no rights against his blood family.
At this point, she was absolutely hysterical and inconsolable. She was convinced Justin’s family would hurt him.
I’m ashamed to say all three of us that were there with her thought she was overreacting. We all knew Rae and Justin had left a messed up situation, but it wasn’t like his own family would do anything to impede his recovery.
She was getting angry with us for trying to calm her down and tried to explain that according to their religion, she and Justin deserved punishment from God, and only the greatest suffering could prompt repenting and redemption. She said their families embraced this thinking and wanted them to suffer because it would prove that they did the wrong thing by leaving, and suffering would drive them back to the fold.
She said as long as Justin was with his family, he wouldn’t be safe.
Our friend who worked for the hospital came and found Rae at that point. She made Rae swear up and down she wouldn’t tell anyone she told her this, because she could get in deep trouble for releasing privileged information to someone unauthorized, but she’d caught wind that Justin’s parents were aggressively demanding the hospital release him into their care, and they were involving lawyers.
The hospital was currently refusing because Justin wasn’t stable enough to leave, but our friend warned Rae that as soon as Justin got to be stable, or the lawyers scared the hospital enough, it’s possible the parents would be able to take Justin.
This shocked the rest of us. Realizing his parents were not only willing to remove Justin from the hospital that had saved his life in the condition he was still in but was actively trying to do it made us really ‘get’ for the first time why Rae was going out of her head with fear.
At this point, Rae snapped into do-or-die mode.
Convinced that Justin was about to literally die if she didn’t act, she decided she would do everything in her power to start a fire at home so that Justin’s family would want to run back to put it out.
And this wasn’t too hard, because she had a lot of dirt on the whole community she came from. Like a madwoman, she started blowing the whistle all over Justin’s family. She called the IRS’s fraud hotline and detailed all the ways that the family business was committing tax fraud.
She submitted an ATF tip about how that same family business was illegally selling firearms without a license and without following any of the proper protocols and was knowingly selling guns to convicted felons.
She reported one of Justin’s uncles for owning several guns as a convicted felon.
She also reported Justin’s mom’s unlicensed daycare ‘business,’ which was apparently extremely shady, including having over 30 children packed into one house, with Justin’s mom as the only adult and many of the childcare duties being farmed out to Justin’s 12- and 14-year-old sisters.
She called CPS on Justin’s uncles and his parents for keeping their children out of school, and for harassment in one uncle’s case. In all of these reports, she provided extensive details.
She finished her calls and emails, and then she waited.
We all waited for several hours, and nothing happened. Then, miraculously, Justin became lucid enough to understand what was going on and make his own decisions, and he kicked his family out again. From there began a slow but steady path to recovery.
In all the relief and excitement to see Justin on the mend, we’d almost forgotten about Rae’s campaign of desperation, until a couple of weeks later, when the screaming voicemails started pouring in to both of them. First, the business was being investigated by the IRS, then it was being investigated for illegal firearms dealing.
Then the daycare was getting investigated.
At first, Rae felt a little guilty, but then she was like, ‘You know what? No regrets. They would have killed Justin.’
From what they’ve been able to piece together in the year and a half since this happened, the business has gone under, and the daycare is shuttered.
The uncle is six months into a new five-year prison sentence for firearm possession. CPS investigated, which scared the poop out of the family, but nothing really came of it, which is especially sad in the case of the cousins being physically abused.
That said, the parents are now too scared to keep the kids home from school, and with the unlicensed daycare shut down, the mom’s not exploiting her daughters’ labor anyway, so she has no incentive to keep them home.
So Justin’s little siblings are at least getting their education.
Justin and Rae are both happy and thriving. Justin, unfortunately, will never fully recover from the accident. He has some permanent neurological damage that results in tremors. But he’s pumped to be alive, he can work a full-time job, he can still be pretty physically active, and as far as I’m concerned, he wins.”
18. Try To Scam Me? I'll Show You Who You're Dealing With
“I got our home phone number long before cell phones were a common thing to have. As things have evolved that phone number is part of my history and is utilitarian to use for things I don’t want ringing on my cellphone (like 99% of anything that requires a phone number for no good reason).
So I have kept that phone number alive over the years. Most recently I moved it a few years back to an online service that charges a tiny amount of per month to host it for me. I access it via a SIP client on my computer.
Because of the nature of the phone number it randomly rings. If I have time to mess with whoever is calling. Most of the calls are the ‘Your car warranty is about to expire’ kind. Some of the calls are about non-existent credit cards.
My favorite calls are scammers. I record all calls that come into this phone number.
In my state, only one person needs to know that a call is being recorded and besides these scammers are all overseas so I really do not care about their laws.
So when a scammer calls I tend to answer and play along. Sometimes these calls last a few minutes before they give up on me, today I set a new record: a total of 1 hour of their time wasted. The call comes in as normal.
I string the guy along, I play dumb, I keep him thinking I am an easy target. After 40 minutes I tell him I have to hang up and could he call me back in an hour.
To my surprise, this idiot calls me back! So I decided to see if I could get him to let me connect to him by continuing to play dumb.
My plan is based on knowing that they have a handful of tools at their disposal, the easiest of which is TeamViewer. So I play along until they get me on a TeamViewer but I never give them the real information on my end and I just ask for my partner id.
The idea is that with TeamViewer you can switch who is showing the screen after you make the initial connection. I know that I have but a precious few seconds of time if I manage to get them to give me their ID and password to make my plan happen.
So I have a dummy terminal set aside for all this. I quickly write out my set of commands so I can copy them to my clipboard and launch them as soon as I get connected. Sure enough, they give me their ID and password.
I am ready and I strike – I paste the commands into a RUN window and let it rip. As I see the window pop up with the command prompt and the deletion of folders starts the guy starts to stutter and asks, ‘What are you doing sir?’ I keep playing dumb until my connection is terminated.
Files have been deleted. The scammer is furious. He starts to curse at me. I eventually start taunting him and cursing back at him. After a while, he hangs up.”
17. Pick On Two Generations of My Family? I'll Break The Tradition
“The town where this happened is a small one, and the school that I went to is a 70-year-old school. My granddad and my dad are also alumni of this school. Let me just start off by saying this that the alumni of this school are really successful, and the school has a long history of being very charitable and also offer amazing retirement benefits to teachers depending on how long they’ve worked here.
My great granddad donated some of his property to the school when it was being constructed, and he was an advisor and a part of the school board in his time. The school was an all boys school up to 1996, when they had their first Co-Ed class and is a full Co-Ed now.
The school also has all classes, from kindergarten to high school, split into two buildings, the first one houses Kindergarten to Fifth grade and the other has the classrooms for Sixth grade to Twelfth grade.
Part 1: Teacher vs Dad – The Incident
Said teacher (we’re gonna call her MD) was my dad’s Math teacher when he started High School.
She was a young woman just finishing her teaching degree and was a masters in math and chemistry. At that point, she was the most qualified teacher the school had.
Unfortunately, MD was also a nasty person. She walked into the class and the students were expected to be sitting in ‘ready mode’ – backs straight, legs together, and hands on the laps, with only the needed textbook and a pencil to take notes on the margins.
The class was expected to greet her with a ‘Good Morning/Afternoon’ when she walked in, and she assigned tons of weekend homework. She would simply stop teaching for the entire hour-long class if one person spoke without being asked to speak.
You couldn’t drink water without her permission, couldn’t go to the restroom unless she finally saw your raised hand and asked you to speak.
There were multiple cases of people complaining against that, but with her being the most qualified teacher, the school board didn’t take action.
Instead, they supported her by saying that this would help discipline the students.
But this is not even the beginning of it. Her exams were incredibly hard, and with the classes being full of teenage boys, they would talk and even one of them doing so would cause her to stop teaching, and not teach until the next class.
She would then lecture on a different topic, completely skipping that part of Chemistry. Suffice to say, before the finals, the entire class was in a panicked state, trying to self study enough to at least pass the class.
My dad ended up getting 41%.
Our education system said you failed the class if you had under 40%, so he was relieved that he passed. But when he went through his answer sheet, my dad noticed that his totaling was incorrect and that he, in fact, had a 49 on that test.
He raised his hand, and after about 5 minutes or so of him just sitting in his seat, calmly, with his hand raised, he was called on and MD asked what the problem was.
Dad told her that there was a totaling mistake in the final and that he actually had a 49.
This somehow offended her. Instead of calling him forth and checking his paper, MD decided that it was simply impossible for her, with her masters in Math, to make a mistake in something as simple as an addition. She waved him off, and my dad was shocked.
But she just calmly turned to the next person with a question.
My dad, on the other hand, was not happy. He walked up from his seat, which was basically considered a crime in her class, and put the paper on MD’s desk, and started totaling his points loudly.
MD incredulously watched him do that, and was at a loss for words. Though when he was done totaling, you could see her face was flushed and she was furious. She looked furiously from the paper to my dad, and then back to the paper, and then suddenly, a cruel smile appeared on her face.
MD: ‘Oh okay, I see the mistake. But that is no excuse for this behavior. This awards a subtraction of ten points from your final.’
The class that was amazed at the first sentence went back to having grim looks. And my dad stood there, jaw dropped, that he now had 39 points, and had failed this class.
Instead of responding and making this situation worse, he simply took his final, packed his backpack and left the classroom.
He went and spoke to his granddad, who was on the school board. But he said he couldn’t do anything since grades were completely in the hands of the teacher concerned.
My dad took his loss and decided that revenge was not worth the trouble, and switched classes. He dropped Chem and took up Econ, and that was the last interaction he ever had with this teacher.
Part 2: Teacher vs My Brother and I
My younger brother (B) is two years younger than me, and so, when I was in freshman year, starting high school, my younger brother was in seventh grade.
We had an auditorium under construction, and the library was newly renovated, so a teacher was assigned to chaperone the younger class students at the library. My younger brother’s class, unfortunately, had MD as their chaperone. My dad had specifically instructed me to be very careful around MD, and I was on the lookout, but my younger brother had no idea just who he was dealing with.
Before summer, our library allows students to take any two books of their choice, for the break. So, when my brother walked past MD to the librarian and was stopped by MD, he was really confused.
He had an Enid Blyton book and a copy of Backyard Science Experiments.
Both my younger brother and I are really good at science-related topics, and he had been waiting for summer break to do some cool science experiments at home with me.
MD: ‘Wait a minute, what book do you have there, B?’
B: ‘A storybook and a Backyard Science Book ma’am.’
MD: ‘What are you going to do with that Backyard Science book! (Turning to the other library staff) I taught his father.
No brains in there. You would have no idea what to do with this book. Leave it for someone who does.’
And with that, she snatched the book from his hands, and walked away, the library staff giving awkward laughs behind her.
When he came looking for me, crying, I was furious. I was a really popular guy at school. I won quizzes and debates and represented the school in national competitions. My friends and I literally had an entire showcase of trophies at school with our names embossed on them, and most teachers loved us.
Man, the Vice Principal of the school and our group were on first name basis! He chaperoned us on all the competitions we represented the school in.
But when my brother told me what had happened, I was dumbfounded. I had no idea how to react, but for the moment, I went to the library and got another copy of the Backyard Science book to console him.
But then, we were out for summer vacation, and I didn’t think too much of it.
When we came back for fall, I had a chem class with MD on the first day of school. This was also right after the assembly where my group was given the award.
So we go to the Chem lab, and MD is on the Lab Instructors desk setting up an experiment designed to liberate hydrochloric acid fumes in a gas flask. Some moments pass by, and we could see that some mistake had been done, and there was no reaction in the mixture (turns out the zinc granules were impure and rusted).
But MD somehow got the idea that turning on the Bunsen burner on full blast would help the experiment. After collecting the gas for about 3 minutes, which is 2 and a half minutes too long, since hydrochloric acid fumes are toxic if inhaled, she is satisfied.
She then pulls up the flask to show the class how we do experiments.
The cherry on the icing is when she opens the flask and brings it uncomfortably close to the girl beside me.
MD: ‘Does it smell pungent?’
The girl awkwardly smells it and jerks away.
To someone who has no clue, that would be a plausible confirmation, but I knew that it was complete horse crap.
I could see that the girl knew about pungent fumes and cringed away on reflex, and not because it was actually pungent.
I don’t know why I did it, but at that moment, I snorted. Loudly.
MD instantly zooms in on me. Walking toward me with her face contorting into an ugly expression, she goes, ‘something funny you’d care to share with us?’
I knew I messed up.
But I was also angry. This person in front of me had bullied my younger brother and my dad. I remembered that, and suddenly, all my verbal sensors were shut down.
Me: ‘You and I both know that she didn’t smell anything pungent.
That experiment you just did was a failure.’
MD: ‘Oh! Do you think you know more than me? (Turning to class) He knows more than me. You know what, I’ll step down. Why don’t you teach the class professor NicholasFiend.’
Me: ‘Oh absolutely.’ To the absolute shock of everyone watching, I walk up to the podium, and while maintaining eye contact with MD, ‘First thing to remember class! Turn to experiment 1 of your lab textbook.
Read the warnings. The gas is pungent and poiso…’
MD: ‘HOW DARE YOU! Has no one taught you manners! This is no roadside shack, and you would do well to remember that, or else you’re gonna have a couple of broken bones.’ (This was in a different language, but if you want the exact translations, it was, ‘I’ll break your limbs and feed them to you’)
She is absolutely furious.
Grabs me by the hand and proceeds to drag me to the Principal’s office. On the way there, we cross the Vice Principal’s office, and he sees MD dragging me away, and runs out.
VP: ‘What is going on here!’
Before I can say anything, MD starts ranting to him about how disrespectful and unacceptable my class behavior is, and is heaving by the end of her spiel.
The VP gives me a searching look, and then responds with a, ‘Go back to class MD, I’ll deal with him.’
We head back to his office, and he offers me a seat and a glass of water.
VP: ‘What actually happened in class, NicholasFiend?’ He asks with a sigh.
I tell him exactly what happened. Once he hears my side of the story, he looks at me incredulously asks me if I really went to the podium and started lecturing the class.
I look up and see the gobsmacked look on the VP’s normally reserved face.
I couldn’t stop myself. It started with a snigger, which turned into full-blown laughter. I laughed till my stomach hurt and my eyes teared up. To my surprise, VP was also smiling widely at that.
He shook his head, and that reserved expression was back.
VP: ‘I know that what happened there had you concerned for class safety but that is no reason for such disruptive behavior. Aside from that, I’m personally going to investigate what happened in that class, and if MD is found to be intentionally forcing students to inhale harmful chemicals, she will be sacked immediately.
Oh, and you’re supposed to hand over a written apology to MD about this behavior. Now get moving.’
I sighed and headed back to class. And I really thought that I had ended MD’s career.
But no. She changed the story so it looked like she had purposely done the experiment wrong and was about to reprimand that girl for inhaling what could have been a harmful chemical.
MD pulled one on me and had me look like I was just an insolent child who thought that he knew everything be reading a chapter of the book. And here, I stopped myself. This event was me just going in head-on with the teacher who had been in the school for longer than 35 years.
Part 3: Pro Revenge Mode
Now I knew that to help my brother, I needed to get rid of her. My dad knew about what happened in school, and he wanted me to not engage MD. He said it was not worth it.
But by now I was in the game.
She had played her card. It was my turn now. I don’t know what made it so that she had such a problem with my dad and my younger brother. They were quiet and hardworking students.
I felt she had something against our family, and I was convinced that my younger brother would have to deal with the problem if I somehow messed up and got expelled or made a worse enemy out of MD.
This was war, and I had a new plan.
I started to act really sheepish around her and made it a point to stay back after class and ask her questions in the most polite way possible.
I was the kid who was guilty of not understanding the plans of elders.
I portrayed myself as an amazing student who MD had succeeded in humbling. I slowly, but surely made my way into the category best described by the term ‘boot licker.’ It hurt me inside to do it, but what I had planned, if this went well, made me light-headed with anticipation.
I was in it to win it. I conceded defeat in a fight to win the war.
Two years later, I am in Junior year. My younger brother just started high school, and he was taking the Chem class with MD.
I was the highest scorer in Chem and was a pet to MD.
She had started to like the NicholasFiend I had portrayed, and made me the Lab Assistant for that year. Two of my best friends knew what I had planned. Everyone else in class hated me for being the teachers’ pet and getting straight A’s when the next highest grade was a B-.
Everything was going according to plan.
On the first day of class, I replaced her stool (one of the three-legged ones) with a broken stool. This was supposed to be the first in a series of pranks that would hit her that day.
She came to class and went to take her seat, and boy, she fell.
Well, she somehow hit her hand on the wall and cried out. Yup, that must have hurt. But she was definitely overweight. And it couldn’t be traced back to me.
I smiled on the inside as I rushed to her and helped her back up. I ran and fetched her another chair, while inside, the freshmen were trying their best not to laugh. When I got back from the room that had extra stools, I walked into the sight of her screaming like a banshee.
But what got me furious was that she was screaming at my younger brother.
Apparently, she had said something like, ‘Stupid stools and stupid Lab Assistant fools.’ To which my brother had responded with, ‘It’s not my brothers’ fault you’re too heavy for the stool.’ Though I loved him for it, he really needed to learn where to come to my aid.
But then, I didn’t do much, and just replaced the chair silently, while silently trying to communicate to my brother to calm down.
Nothing else of concern happened that day, till the time when school was over, and the teachers were heading back.
Stage 2 was in motion. We heard a loud bang, and immediately, the large crowd of students nearby all headed towards the teachers’ car parking lot.
We saw MD’s car smoking and her exhaust blown right off. Keep in mind it was an older car, and we had decided to block off the exhaust with clay that had hardened over the course of six hours on a sunny day.
Well, that car had to be towed, and she went home with some other students that day.
She didn’t show up to school for 2 days after that, but she did show up to school on the third day, which was a half school day because our country celebrates Teacher’s Day.
It is a tradition that students go to their teachers, current and old, and wish them the best, give them cards, gifts, etc.
This was by far the most ambitious prank pulled in the school that I know of. The two days she was absent, we went around telling people to not visit her on Teacher’s Day.
It helped a lot that my friends and I were some of the most popular people in school, and with the other ‘cool guys and girls’ agreeing to that, we spread the word and got confirmation that no one from the entire class in my year was going to go to her to wish her on Teachers’ day.
But then what actually happened was something no one could have expected.
I guess it could have been because we acted so fanatical about it, that our classmates spread the word to all their friends and no one, not a single person in High School, went to her on Teachers’ day.
It was the most amazing feeling of accomplishment I have ever had. She had made this situation for herself. By being the nastiest person I’ve ever seen, it was no surprise that people were fine with doing this to her. For the first time in 70 years, in our school, a teacher had not had a single well-wisher on Teacher’s Day.
Well, things are never perfect, and as it so happened, word of what we had conspired got to her.
The next day, I had just set up the lab. The freshmen were getting settled in, and here comes MD, anger radiating from her in waves.
She walks up to me, and I get the hardest slap I have ever gotten in my life, right across my face.
I’d hate to admit it, but that left a blue mark on my cheek, and my nose and lip bleeding.
My younger brother, who saw that happening ran towards me, but my shock slowly subsided and I smiled a bloody smile that probably scared him. I told him to go get the Vice Principal.
Twenty minutes later, I was in the school emergency room, with a nurse wiping my lip and me holding a cloth to my nose.
The Vice Principal comes in with the Principal and two cops in tow, and they inform me that my parents have been informed, and ask me if I would like to talk about it now or when my parents are here.
I say that I can answer their questions as soon as my lip is bandaged.
So I tell them about the cases of bullying against my brother and me, and also tell them that she is a really incompetent teacher.
I tell the principal that he could check the school average in science subjects.
And sure as I guessed, in the average scores in the National Exams, we had Physics and Biology come in at 92 and 90, with Chemistry at a surprising 79. Topping that off with assault charges, and she lost her license to teach, two years before she retired, and with that, lost amazing retirement benefits that the school offered.
Her car also had no insurance. Huh.
That is not all though. When she fell off the stool, she had to go to the hospital for an X-ray of her wrist and hip.
The wrist sure had a hairline fracture, the hip was fine but the X-ray showed another thing.
She was diagnosed with Stage III cancer.
Also, I later met with her only living family member. Her nephew, who had long cut all contact with her, but had been contacted by the police and the hospital. That’s where I found out the truth.
MD’s mom was my great granddad’s niece. My great granddad’s younger brother, who had stolen from the family, and tried to kill my great granddad. Well, he was disowned. Good stuff. And no one knew this entire time! Well, not that anyone would care.
Happy that the nasty woman is out of our lives. For good this time. Apparently, she died last year, with no one by her side.”
16. Want To Be Rude After I Save You And Your Son On The Side Of The Road? I'll Get Him An "Ice Cream"
“So this happened yesterday. I’m not working at the moment, but I’ve been trying to keep myself busy by offering to help people in my family and friends circles, giving them lifts, helping them move, etc. etc. All-in-all I consider myself a pretty generous person.
Yesterday, my younger brother finally managed to get a few days off work, and he was going up the coast with some friends for a nice relaxing getaway for one of their birthdays. He’d asked me weeks before if I could give him a lift, as he had chef school that day, and wouldn’t be able to get a lift to the house with his friends as planned.
I said sure, no problems.
The day comes around, I pick him up early as he finished quickly, and we get on our way. The drive wasn’t bad (took about 1.5 hours) and we just chatted and listened to music all the way there, it was a nice drive.
At this point, it was around 4:30 pm by the time I dropped him off and turned around to go home. I got probably halfway home and I see someone parked up by the side of the road, waving me down, so I decided to pull over as a few cars ahead had already driven past without stopping (they dodged a bullet).
Enter entitled parent and her POS kid.
EP: ‘Can I help you?’
Me looking confused since she waved me down, ‘Uh, I thought maybe you needed some help. Is everything ok?’
EP: ‘Um, no. We ran out of petrol.’
Me: ‘Oh… ok? That’s a pretty easy fix.’
The next town I knew had a service station as I passed it on the way there, and it was only another 5km up the road.
Me: ‘I can drive you into the town to get petrol and bring you back here.’
EP: ‘Okay,’ she says simply, her son picking up some of the gravel by the roadside and THROWING IT INTO TRAFFIC (60 mph highway).
Me: ‘Hey don’t do that champ, it’s dangerous.’
She had gone to her car to grab her purse but reeled out of it as I say this.
EP: ‘Don’t you speak to my son like that!’ she snapped angrily.
Me: ‘Sorry…’ I get into my car followed quickly by the obnoxious pair, high regretting my life choices by this point, now feeling I can’t redouble on myself, given how difficult she has been at me HELPING her.
EP: She sits down and immediately scoffs, looking at her feet. ‘Why is your car so dirty?’
Me: ‘Oh uh… sorry, I used to put my work boots down there so it got kinda dirty over time.’
EP: ‘You could clean it up you know?’
Me: I laugh nervously and just nod, pulling away and wanting this to be over with as fast as possible.
I left my phone in the center console and she grabs it up.
EP: ‘Can I call someone? My phone ran out of charge, that’s why we were stuck out there.’
Me: ‘Oh yeah, go ahead.’ (I have unlimited calls so I really didn’t care)
Either she thinks the person on the other line can’t hear her, or she’s trying to contact them without the use of the phone because she is SHOUTING.
Meanwhile, her son suddenly leaps up between the two front seats, looking out the front window. I quickly slow down a bit in shock.
‘Woah, put your seatbelt on dude!’
The mother just glances at him and pushes him into the back seat, and I have to tell him to put his seatbelt on again before he actually does.
I’m seething by this point, but I could already see the town ahead and she’d thankfully only had a short conversation and put my phone back.
We pull up to the pump without issue, but she sits there for like 10 seconds giving me this quick sideways glance with her arms folded, and I don’t even have to ask if this wants me to get the gas for her, I know she does.
And then I think. I didn’t know if it was going to work, but I wanted to try, and here I am.
I get out of the car, and grab a 5L Jerry can they had for sale, holding it up for her approval and she nods.
I fill it up and walk up to the passenger side door and open it.
EP: ‘What?’
Me: ‘Oh I just wanted to know if your son wanted to pick out an ice cream, I know it’s a hot day today.’
She looked shocked for a moment and for first darn time smiled.
The kid practically leaped out of the car and much to my happiness so did she and followed him in there.
I walk in, put the jerry can onto the counter as he quickly comes up with his ice cream.
Me: ‘Oh. One second, I left my phone in the car, it has my debit card in it.’
I smile as soon as my back is turned to them, getting into the car and casually driving off, relishing in the sight of her running out of the service station screaming who knows what profanities.
All-in-all, it only ended up costing me about 20 minutes of my time, but the feeling I got as I drove away was priceless. I wonder how long it took them to get back to their car? I got home fine, and a solid-gold story in tow to tell my family.
Best. Drive. Ever. I only hope the poor guy running the servo didn’t cop it too bad from that crappy human.
Let me know if I should move it, I’ve only been lurking on these boards and enjoying the justice, and I finally got some of my own.”
15. Want To Text And Drive? Here's A Can Of Whop Butt
“This very short, instant revenge happened on my way to work today, at the dark, groggy, dreary hour of 3 am.
AD = Driver
To set the tone, I live in California, land of under-engineered freeways and bad drivers.
I was taking a junction from one freeway to another.
It is two lanes for about half a mile, and very slowly merges into one for another half, before finally merging into its destination.
I am cruising through, empty, even for 3 in the morning as the lanes begin to merge down and AD rolls in the narrowing space, headlights off, eyes glued to his phone, causing me quite a scare.
I honk, repeatedly to no avail, as the gap is rapidly narrowing, no time for me to stop safely. Then, I see it, my solution. I have an unopened energy drink can, the big ones, in my cupholder.
Not even 2 seconds after him pulling alongside me, the can soars the gap between the cars, right into his passenger window.
CRASH the sound of broken glass rings out as his car screeches to a halt.
I hope AD learned his lesson not to text and drive, also turn your headlights on, I would have been able to avoid it if he had.”
14. Punish Him For Self-Defense? He'll Come Up With The Perfect Revenge And One-Liner
“Not me, but my brother has always been one of those evil geniuses thinking ten steps ahead of everyone else…
In kindergarten, he went to a fancy private school and used to get picked on a lot for wearing glasses.
The one time he actually fought back in self-defense, he got sent to the principal’s office and lost recess privileges for a week.
This was in January. He held onto that resentment all year.
Fast forward to the last day of school. My brother consumes as many liquids as he possibly can, and then doesn’t use the bathroom all day. In the last hour of the day, he sneaks into the principal’s office and pees EVERYWHERE.
We’re talking all four walls, floor, and ceiling.
Eventually, my brother gets caught. When the principal asked why he did it, he looks him straight in the eyes and says, ‘You peeved me off, so I peed on you.’ And that’s how you get expelled from private school.”
13. Try To Run Me Off The Road? I'll Get You Arrested
“First, a little backstory.
I’m a college student and cycle to campus every day. It’s not a long ride at all, but I have to go through a zone where it’s illegal to ride a bicycle on the sidewalk. Therefore, I’m forced to ride on the road.
Most drivers don’t care and just go around me since I stay to the edge and don’t make myself a nuisance. Also, I have a crappy ebike that I commute on. This will be important later.
A few weeks ago, a guy in a Ford SUV (I don’t know exactly which kind) started yelling at me as he drove by while I was in the road-only zone.
All the usual ‘get off the road, roads are for cars, you’re too slow’ kinda stuff. I get that from drivers on a weekly basis, I just ignore it and keep going. This man was special though since he cut right in front of me and slammed on his brakes after yelling.
I was able to stop before I hit him, and he floored it out of there, yelling ‘better be careful next time, bike!’
I was pretty mad, but I hadn’t got his license plate or anything and I doubt anything could be done about it anyway, there was no real proof.
Over lunch, I told one of my friends who works as an EMT the story, and he got seriously angry. Apparently, he has seen the results of a car successfully brake-checking on a cyclist, and they aren’t pretty.
Two days later, the same Ford SUV/jerk tried to brake-check me again.
I was expecting it as soon as I heard him yelling, ‘get on the sidewalk, bike!’ behind, so I avoided a crash again. I told my EMT friend over lunch again, and he was even angrier than before. I wanted to let it go since I can’t really do anything about him, and my bicycle isn’t going to win in a crash.
This guy keeps trying to brake check me every few days during my morning commute, whenever we’re on the same patch of road at the same time. About a week ago, my EMT friend told me that he told my story to one of his friends in the campus police, who was equally livid.
The two of them wanted to catch this jerk driver. The plan was to have the policeman parked on the side of the road in hopes of catching and pulling over the jerk. I heartily agreed, and the officer pulled some strings and had himself posted on speeder-catching duty for that stretch of road.
A few days passed uneventfully with no sign of the road-rager. I saw the cop parked in the same spot on the side of the road every day, a spot where the road has a left-turn lane and a straight lane.
Finally, I’m pedaling along and I hear the familiar voice scream, ‘get the off the road, loser!’ I yelled back ‘catch me then!’ and took off. I was spinning my scrawny little chicken legs as hard as they would go, and pegged the throttle.
I guess this made the driver even angrier because I heard his engine roar as he pursued me.
He shifted into the left lane as I stayed in the right.
I looked to the side and saw a nasty old man in the driver’s seat with the passenger window open.
His mouth was going like he was yelling, but I couldn’t hear him over the wind noise. I saw the police car’s spot approaching and started to slow down. Taking the opportunity, the driver swung right in front of me. I don’t know if it was the speed or his anger that made him swing wide, but he cut across my lane and crashed STRAIGHT INTO THE BACK OF THE POLICE CAR.
I barely applied my brakes (slowed down to about 15 mph) and crashed into the side of his car. The officer got out (spitting mad would be an understatement) and called an ambulance and another police car. Everyone was unhurt since the jerk was going only like 25 mph, but there was enough of an impact to trigger the SUV’s airbags.
The jerk ended up getting arrested for impaired driving (seriously, who drinks before 9 AM?), for an illegal lane change, and probably other stuff too. I don’t know all the details. I imagine that causing a crash like that would entail some additional charges.
The guy ended up having to pay for extensive repairs on the police cruiser and for a new ebike to replace the one he destroyed by cutting in front of me (the frame snapped.) On top of that, I hear that his car was defined as totaled by his insurance company since the airbags went off, so he also has to pay for a new car. With any luck, he’ll lose his license from the driving charges and won’t be able to menace cyclists again.”
12. Don't Want To Stick To The Agreement? I'll Walk Out On Preparing Dinner For 750 People
“I was a chef for a famous all-inclusive hotel chain. One day, I was approached in the kitchen and told I needed to pack my bags and move 3,000 miles away to fix a labor issue at another hotel. I happily obliged but negotiated a deal where I would have my choice of any hotel location after I successfully fixed the labor issue.
I arrived at the new hotel and proceeded to diligently address the labor problem while also taking over dinner service for 750 people.
After a few months, the labor issue had been fixed and settled, and the kitchen was running as smoothly as I liked.
I asked my manager about when I could make the move to another hotel per our arrangement, and I was told since I had done such a good job, they were going to make me stay where I was for an indeterminate amount of time – ie forever.
I let my management know this was unacceptable, and I demanded I be transferred in accordance with the original agreement that got me on a plan in the first place. I was told they would work on it.
I gave them a 3-week window to address the issue – to give them time to discuss it with the head office, etc.
I told them if they did not come through in 3 weeks, I would walk off the job and never look back.
After 3 quiet weeks, I politely asked my manager if my transfer had come through or at least was still in the works.
It was not. The next morning I gave the entire dinner staff the day off and told them not to answer any work calls. I set up the kitchen as if I were prepping dinner – onions and herbs in hotel pans full of water with foil covers, garlic sizzling in pans, etc.
I kept the charade up until around 4:30 pm at which time I left the kitchen, went to my room, picked up my bags and went to the lobby to wait for my ride. The manager came up to me freaking out (there were 750 pre-paid dinner reservations that night and NO food) and told me if I walked out I would never work for the company again. I laughed, shook his hand and said goodbye.
I never looked back and never talked to anyone there ever again. This was 20+ years ago.”
11. Want To Criticize How I Clean? You Can Bite The Dust
“My ex-mother-in-law was one of those ‘a wife serves her husband and does everything’ kind of people. She always criticized me. My housework, the meals I cooked, etc. I decided to get even by filling a sock with the dust from my vacuum canister.
Every day I’d stop by her place and take a moment to shake the sock around her house.
It left dust everywhere. The floors were the easiest. Everyone’s feet would get dirty from walking around. Her husband started noticing she wasn’t doing her ‘duty.’ The best was when I went and shook dust all over her couch and pillows and returned that night. I made a show of flopping down on the couch from being, ‘SO exhausted from work.’ Dust went everywhere. Her husband was like, ‘what the heck, don’t you ever vacuum?'”
10. Commit Adultery? I'll Show You How Morals Work
“I screen capped photos from my wife’s lover’s social media and sent them to the school administration because he was a teacher and posting pics of your student’s test then making fun of them is not cool at all.
He was fired at the end of the year.
After his dismissal, I divorced her and got her removed from her position at daycare because it was a church-based facility with morality clauses for employment. All it took was a conversation with the pastor and she was phased out at the first available opportunity.”
9. Accuse Me Of Vandalizing Your Car? Meet My Roommate
“So I live on a little street with about 7 houses.
We’re the only student house in the area, and so we’re often a target for people looking to make quick by blaming us because they think it’s easy to get us into trouble.
This lady thought WRONG.
Cast: DB – our neighbor, TB – My housemate; a genuine teddybear, CW – Council Worker, Me – Me
So I’m walking back from university when I’m accosted by a middle-aged woman in her dressing gown and slippers.
‘HEY, YOU!’
I stop because I’m trying to be polite to the neighbors (the locals have a (location) Hates Students group who vandalize student property to try and make us leave so I tend to overcompensate to make our household look good).
‘Hi! How are you?’
‘YOU VANDALIZED MY CAR!’
I cross the road to where DB is standing and where her car is parked – and ask ‘pardon?’
‘You dumb witch, did you not hear me? I said you vandalized my car.’
She was really trying to sell that I vandalized her car when I was on the other side of the road and she KNEW that.
‘I’m… Sorry? I think you’ve got the wrong person.’
DB points at a HUGE scrape down the side of her car and I wince, that poor thing must have been beaten up pretty badly, but I had nothing on me that could have inflicted that much damage.
I explain that the binmen destroyed my moped (still in for repairs) so they might have caught her car too and her eyes light up.
‘A moped?!?!?!’ I nod. ‘SO YOU’RE THE LITTLE (insert expletive) WHO PARKS ON MY DRIVE??’
Our house has a driveway big enough for 4 cars and is, obviously, right outside my house.
So I tell her no, that I haven’t been parking on her drive, especially because my bike was destroyed and has been gone for over 2 weeks.
‘You’re a liar,’ she’s spitting in my face at this point. ‘I have photos of your bike blocking my drive from 3 days ago.
That’s why I was parked on the road and that’s why my car got totaled.’
‘Okay,’ I nod. ‘May I see the photos?’
DB is all too happy to whip out her phone and show me the photos of what she proudly believes to be my moped (a fire engine red piece of scrap that, to be honest, was well beyond saving even before the bin men mangled her).
Except… It isn’t my bike.
‘Ma’am, I hate to be rude but… That’s a mobility scooter.’
Cue the screaming and shouting about how rude teenagers are (I’m 21) and how we university students always disrespect the locals.
She tells me that I must think she’s an idiot (I do) for thinking that she’s wrong about my bike (she was).
So I take a deep breath and say:
‘Ma’am I’m in a rush, but you really are wrong about the bike… Maybe ask [her next door neighbor, a kind old lady who owns that mobility scooter but is a little forgetful] about why she parks her scooter on your drive.’
I walk away and think nothing of it.
Except now she’s left her totaled car on our private property instead of her own drive, after running our fence that blocks the drive down and complaining to our landlady about anti-social behavior – there isn’t any, btw, we’re 4 reclusive students who stay in all night watching Netflix with our headphones in, and she’s also like 5 houses down from us so she definitely wouldn’t be able to hear the noise she was describing.
Pretty much the whole neighborhood is shunning us at this point, as DB had been spreading lies about our behavior – telling everyone that we vandalized her property so it’s only fair that she uses our driveway as compensation. I feel responsible for her behavior, as I should have shut her down immediately rather than letting this drag out.
So I sit in my room (nothing new there) and hatch a plan.
The next morning, I walk past her house and watch as DB lets her dog out. I watch it take a crap on the public pavement, and then shrug and walk away.
BINGO. According to our local council, this is an offense she can get fined for, as it’s vandalism and obstruction of council property. So every morning as I walk to get my train, I take a photo of the turds – some fresh, some crusty, and some smeared across the pavement by some poor sod who’s stood in it.
Then I email EVERYTHING to my local counselor who is FUMING that someone fully able-bodied is allowing their dog to do this without cleaning it up. She gets fined £1000 with a threat of MORE if she continues to do so (I heard this from my neighbor as he was friends with CW, who handled the case).
And guess what? She did. And the more that dog pooped, the more I reported it. She racked up £4,000 of fines just for dog poop alone, and I didn’t even report her trespassing on private property.
But apparently, she’d spoken to CW, who was a newbie, and pressured him until he let slip that ‘a neighbor’ had reported it and of course, she happened to 1) realize it was me and 2) know where I live.
She hammered on my door, screaming about how she was going to drown my cat (I don’t have one, my neighbor’s cat just loves me), smash my window, and then catch me when I was walking home.
Now TB is also a recluse, I’ve said in previous posts that he basically stays in his room and only leaves to go to uni or grab a drink and some food.
But he is ANGRY at the way this lady is screaming at me. He stomps downstairs, yanks the door open while she’s midscream, and glares down at her. He’s 6’7″ tall and a rugby player, so he’s basically a walking muscle.
If I didn’t know that he liked to cry at anime while hugging us on the sofa, I’d think that he was terrifying. But this lady wasn’t privy to this information.
So she looks up at this angry, MASSIVE Northerner and just trembles as he says in a very low, threatening voice:
‘You need to get off our property and take your car.
If you so much as blink at WriterlySnitch and I hear about it, I’ll not only call the council for the dog poop you flung on our driveway, but I’ll call the police for damage to property and harassment. Now EFF.
OFF. LADY.’
Safe to say she ran faster than I’ve ever seen her run.
Last week I heard from the neighbor that CW had sold her car for scraps (she never got the thing fixed) just to pay off the eventual £4,200 of fines she’d racked up, and every time I walk to the train station and see the mobility scooter parked on her drive it feels like another little win!”
8. Can't Drive? I'll Show You Why You Shouldn't Be On The Road
“Small piece of background info: As a kid, I was always playing rough and at some point even thought about becoming a stunt man (actually, that still sounds like an awesome career) so me and my friends did the whole fake fighting thing and I learned how to easily take hits and pretty nasty falls without getting hurt badly.
I was one of those kids who
always had cuts and bruises and no idea how I got them, nor did I care. I also have always had the superpower to cause myself a bloody nose just by picking a very specific spot (this may not sound like a superpower but if you didn’t study for a test it was a gods gift to be able to just walk out of the classroom with a bloody nose knowing you could retake it at another time.)
This story happened a couple of years ago and it may be the worst thing I ever did.
I was 17 years old and being Dutch, I rode my bike everywhere. I live pretty close to my grandparents and would bike past their house on a daily basis. Their house was at the corner of a Y shaped intersection and there was this guy who lived on the same intersection who was THE.
WORST. driver I ever met. He would just not look when driving out of his garage and just speed into the road. He had nearly hit me twice already and every time he just cursed at me to get out of his way.
Now you have to believe me when I say this but I am not a vengeful person.
But something about this just annoyed me so much… My grandma also loves to ride her bike around town to do the groceries and I knew I had to do something before my grandma would get hit.
I asked my grandma about the man and she told me what I already knew. The guy was an and everyone did everything wrong except for him. I told my grandma what I was planning and if she would help me, she eventually agreed and together we made a plan to teach him a lesson he would never forget.
I decided to hang out around the guy’s house for a couple of weeks to take note of when he left for work every day and how fast he was going.
I worked everything out to the smallest detail, no room for errors on this one.
I started practicing my falls again and looked up some tutorials to prepare myself for the performance of a lifetime…
One sunny Monday morning, I get up and start stretching and warming up my muscles. Today is the day. I grab my bike and drive it just around the corner of the guy’s garage.
I mentally prepare myself and start my bloody nose with ease, making sure to get nice and bloody in the process. Then I hear it. The garage door opens, I now have 3.7 seconds before he would be racing out of his garage (like I said, every detail, no room for error).
I start driving my bike as fast as I could and get ready for the impact… and let me tell you, it went beautifully. I was no longer sitting on my seat and had my left hand already off my handlebar to help with the impact of the car.
I rolled over the hood and windshield of his car and landed in a nice rolling motion as I thought myself all those years ago. I ended up hitting the ground on the passenger side of the car.
All in all the whole ‘accident’ took less than a second but I still remember it as if it happened in slow motion.
The guy was freaking out as he thought he just killed a guy, and if you were just looking at the amount of blood on his car (it wasn’t that much but on a white car every drop stands out) you would agree.
As I lay there next to his car he came screaming out asking if I was okay. Of course, I pretended I wasn’t and took my sweet ass time trying to get up. It was at this point that my grandma came running out of her house right on cue screaming, ‘MY BABY, YOU HIT MY GRANDSON!!!’ The guy didn’t know what to do, he was so full of shock that I thought he may pass out.
I’ll give him credit, he kept his cool and knew he was in the wrong. He called me an ambulance and stayed by my side.
When they arrived they checked me out. I was fine, a couple of bruises and a small scratch on my knee from hitting the pavement.
They bandaged me up and left. My grandma brought me to her car and brought me home.
A couple of days later I ride my bike past the guy’s house again and notice a piece of paper on one of the car’s windows: ‘for sale, call 06-xx-xxxx.’ I ask my grandma what happened and word on the street is that the accident left him traumatized and now he refuses to drive anymore, taking public transit everywhere and selling his car.
My grandma is happy that she can ride her bike without having to worry and I am happy that I don’t have to worry about her life. We talked about it afterward and both of us agree that although what we did was a horrible thing to do to someone, it had to be done before someone would actually get hurt and we don’t feel any remorse about it.”
7. Want To Hire Me And Fire Me In The Same Breath? It'll Cost You $400,000
“Background: A few years ago, I worked in the wine industry and I traveled to Australia to try to broaden my experience of the industry, as well as of life and to try out living abroad for a while.
I also knew the pay there was vastly higher than what was my home at the time in the UK.
I had quite a bit of experience, a decent CV/Resume, great qualifications in the industry and academically and I was young and eager. At the time, I had a one-year work visa, but this could have been extended to two or longer, depending on the employer.
I applied for loads of jobs; many were listed on the various employment websites, industry-specific ones. If I liked the sound of it, I applied for it. I also wrote to various wineries in the area that I really liked with my CV and various details.
I got a lot of replies, but one of my favorites got back to me, and they put me in touch with their hiring manager.
I was stoked to have an interview with one of my favorite wineries in the region for a sales rep job.
I drove to the winery, met with the hiring manager, and had the interview of my life. I nailed it; to this day I’ve never had a better interview. I met the winery manager, and we got along great. At the end of the interview, the hiring manager told me I was a shoo-in, and that they’d be in touch shortly to let me know if I got the job, followed by a very reassuring wink/nod.
The very next day, I got a phone call saying that they’d be delighted to have me as their regional sales rep, and we discussed a start date.
This winery was several hours out of the city, so I had to move quite a distance, rent an apartment, buy a car, and so on.
This cost me the vast majority of the savings I’d accumulated back home before the move. A few days before the starting date, I give them a call to let them know I’m moved in and that I am looking forward to starting and to ask if they wouldn’t mind if I came along a few days before just to get a better lay of the land, etc.
They said the owners weren’t around so don’t bother coming in, but call again tomorrow. I did, and again, the owners weren’t around again. I was due to start on the Monday, so I figured oh well – I guess I’ll meet them then.
I showed up bright and early, 20 minutes early on the first day, ready to meet the crew and get stuck in. I walked around until I found someone, as the cellar door and main areas weren’t open yet. They told me to hang around until someone showed up – eventually, the general winery manager appears and when I say I’m supposed to be meeting with him, the hiring manager and the owners today, his eyes widen, he goes a little white(r), and then, after some ‘uhhh’-ing, lets me know that they aren’t ready today and need a few more days to sort things out but to call back in the afternoon to find out when I’m really supposed to start.
I call back, and it goes to voicemail. I leave a voicemail, saying, ‘Hey, let me know which day this week you’d like me to start.” I call the hiring manager I had spoken to before, that goes to voicemail, I do the same.
Two more days pass, and I’m starting to get irritated. I want to start work. I call the hiring manager again who picks up. I am as civil as I can be, but I do ask why I haven’t been called back.
She lets me know that the owners have changed their minds, and don’t want to hire me anymore.
She admitted that this was pretty crappy, and she’d been trying to convince them to take me, but they had issues with the fact that I was a temporary worker and wouldn’t be there for more than two years.
I let her know that there were options for extending my ability to stay in the country, etc. She said she knew, but they were adamant. I was pretty peeved at this point, so I decided to call them directly.
Their number was easy to find, so I called them and left a voicemail asking them to call me back.
And another voicemail a day later, all the time remaining as polite as I could.
Eventually, I called them from Skype, with ‘no number’ and they actually picked up. I asked why they no longer wished to hire me and tried to explain that they could apply for an extension/sponsorship if they liked having me.
Then came the line, ‘We just don’t want a pommy working for us, plain and simple mate.’ You jerks. This had nothing to do with the sponsorship thing, you just don’t like Brits. I’m not even a pom (this is typically slang reserved for English – I am Scottish).
I terminate my lease, cancel my Internet, and drive back up the coast about $2, 000AUD in the hole (not including the price of the car, fuel, food, time wasted, etc).
Revenge: Peeved off, but at this point desperate for money, I stay at a hostel and begin job hunting again.
This time there’s a pretty great job as a regional manager and buyer for a decently sized chain of liquor stores. This is a little beyond my previous experience but whatever, I go for it. I get the job, and suddenly I’m responsible for 7 stores and the purchases they make.
7 big stores that buy a lot of wine. When store managers make their weekly orders, it was done through an online system where the various products and quantities were put in.
There was a short window between the order being submitted and the order actually going through to be fulfilled.
I simply canceled each and every store’s orders of the wines from that winery. I did that every single week until I left. Each store was ordering between 15 and 30 cases of this producer’s wines per week; an average of about $6,000 per store in sales (closer to $4,000 per order, per store).
When the store managers saw that their stocks were dwindling or gone, and asked me about it, I simply said that they’d changed their pricing and we can’t afford to sell it right now.
Every time their sales rep (who did not know me) called to ask what the problem was, I just told him that their product just wasn’t moving and we don’t need any stock right now.
He didn’t think to even compare previous years’ sales records, he’d have seen that it had always sold well because their wine is great!
I wasn’t there long, I hated that job, the hours, and the stress of taking care of seven freaking stores and their problems, but the revenge was sweet. After four months I packed it in, and I reckon their crappy attitude cost them over $400,000 in sales.
6. Steal My Drinks? I'll Give It To You "Recycled" Through My Bladder
“I got to dispense a little justice to my neighbor once.
I met the neighbor sitting outside shining boots. He was in the Army National Guard. I walked over to introduce myself and we talked a bit about the Army. I helped him shine his boots and pulled a couple of cans of hops out of the cooler that I kept in the back of my truck.
Fast forward a few months, and I’m silently wondering if I’m a booze hound – the case of hops that I bought the day before yesterday had dwindled to a six-pack. I shrugged it off.
I drove my wife’s car to work one day that week.
My wife worked in a shop across the street and phoned me to tell me that she’s been watching the neighbor climb into my truck and stuff his pants with my cans of hops.
At first, I was going to confront him and demand restitution but I decided that I could avenge my missing cans by switching to bottles. So I switched, and when they were empty I refilled them with…uh…recycled liquid and recapped. Put them in my cooler and waited patiently. A few went missing…I waited…nothing else was taken. My point was made.”
5. Read Their Mail? He'll Mess With Your Mind
“When my grandparents were younger they lived in flats and the woman in the flat below them (nearest to the postbox) would always read their letters –my grandad knew because he could tell that she was re-sealing the glue over her kettle.
So one day he decided to send a letter to himself but include a black hair of my Nan’s, the woman having the same colored hair would pick it out thinking it was hers. However, he also included a note saying ‘stop reading our letters you nosey witch’ (my grandad’s a rather blunt guy). Needless to say, their post was never opened again and he never received that letter back.”
4. Wanna Play A Joke On April 1st? I'll Get You At Your Own Gam
“April Fool’s Day this year: I had several friends send fake texts to another friend (let’s call him Steve) who lives in a different state. The texts were fake responses to an imaginary ad offering free kittens.
Steve somehow figures out it was me.
He then goes to a popular classifieds site and posts three separate ads with my number attached: free puppies, free kittens, and a free 42″ flatscreen TV.
I start receiving a flood of calls, texts, and voicemails. I was contacted by well over 150 interested individuals in the first couple of hours.
I frantically tried to think of how I was going to get him back, and then it hit me…
I responded to everyone by saying, ‘Sure – it’s still available. Come by anytime tonight after 5. I’m Steve, here’s my address…’
Except that I didn’t always say 5 – I told people to come at different times.
Steve had a steady stream of angry/disappointed visitors that evening from 4-10pm.”
3. Rear-end Me And Not Reimburse Me? I'll Concoct Vicious Secret Revenge
“A woman rear-ended me pretty badly. She told me not to call the cops because she was on the way to a AA meeting and she would lose her license. She called her who was a lawyer and he told me to let her go, told me to come to his office and he would pay for all repairs if I brought in an estimate.
So I did as requested. He, a lawyer, laughed at me and said there was no proof and I wouldn’t get a cent. I was completely broke and knew I could not afford the repairs and furthermore, the car was not legally drivable as it was.
Late on another night, I went to the AA meeting via bicycle (she had said where it was in passing and I checked the schedule). I confronted her on her way out. She confessed her license was suspended and she had been driving without a license that day.
Since it was summer I had days free from class and rode my bicycle to the lawyer’s office for a few days to learn his schedule from where I camped out across the street.
Slowly, a plan for revenge took shape in my mind.
When I knew his beautiful car would be unattended for a while, I filled his gas tank with sand and sugar – LOADS OF IT! At the time I lived in a bad neighborhood and there were always abandoned cars around.
I had taken the rear plate off on one with an expired tag and put that on his car. Next, I slashed all four tires with a small slit so the air would slowly be gone by the time he was leaving.
Now I was only able to see the first part of my plan from my perch.
He came out from his office, saw the car sitting low to the ground, and started screaming like a banshee. And this is how I imagined the rest: He pays to get the car towed, they replace/patch the tires.
He drives off and the engine eventually fails because of the sand and sugar mix. He gets it towed again, pays for repairs (or new/rebuilds engine?) drives off, and is pulled over for expired plates. Since he arrogantly never took my information and never even looked at the repair estimate, he didn’t know the name of his saboteur.
I actually didn’t tell anyone about this when it was going on (my would not have approved) and very few since, but about a year later I drove by the office and saw it was no longer his.
I feel like the woman probably would have done the right thing but she was just mixed up with a jerk. Hopefully, the events I started made it clear to her. Sweet Secret Revenge.”
2. Pick On Me? I'll Give You A Special Treat
“I took a poop in a plastic bag, and let it sit on the back porch for a week. Went back a week later when the poop was dried up, and I crushed it up in the bag. If you have never done this before it makes a powder.
I bought a pack of rollies the victim smoked, and emptied one out. Then filled it with the ‘poop powder’ and packed it down with a pencil, and replaced it in the pack.
Then I waited. He tried to light it, inhaled and threw up. While driving.”
1. Prank Me At A Bachelor Party? I'll Get You In Your Sleep
“I went on a bachelor weekend trip for a friend of mine with a bunch of guys from the wedding party.
It wasn’t anything crazy but we did do some bar hopping. It was a Friday night and I had gotten up for work around 4 am that morning and was pretty beat by about 1 am, so I left and went home a little earlier than everyone else.
We had filled the bathtub with ice and drinks and drank about half of what we purchased before heading out. The reason I bring that up? I woke up completely covered in baby powder. It is completely caked in my eyes, nose, hair, ears, and mouth.
My nose is dried out and so is my mouth.
We were all supposed to head out on a fishing trip that morning at around 6 am.
So, without batting an eye (mostly because I couldn’t open them), I head right for the shower, which is full of cans of booze and hops, water, and cardboard cases.
I quickly take a cold shower and get all the crap off and head to the boat. Only 4 out of the 8 made it on the trip. Everyone is shocked by how well I am taking it having been seriously ‘antiqued.’ But, I simply ask a few questions and get the answers I need to hear and go about my day as if nothing happened.
Turns out it was an old roommate of mine who did it to me. He was too messed up to make it on the boat trip and is sleeping it off in the hotel room. So, the moment you’ve all been waiting for.
The revenge!
While we were heading into the dock after a day of fishing, I filled a water bottle full of all the bait juice and little pieces of squid and raw baitfish. I filled it to the brim. I was very quiet about it and didn’t let anyone know what I was up to.
We all made it back to the hotel and I acted like I was heading back to my room.
Instead, I went over to this guy’s car and proceeded to pour half the bottle down the AC vent underneath the windshield. But I wasn’t done there.
I went over to his room and knocked on the door. He opened it up and I calmly squirted half of what was left in his face. While he was squirming around and screaming, ‘What did you spray on me?!’ I sprayed his bag of clothes and then him one more time for good measure.
Then I walked out of the door.
So, the best part? He cleaned everything up and ‘got over it.’ But he had no idea that his car had been filled with this juice and it was literally cooking in his AC vent for the next 2 days.
When we went to drive home (a 2 1/2 hour drive back) he kept complaining to everyone that, ‘The smell just won’t go away.’ For two and a half hours in 90-degree weather, he blasted his AC with fish juice directly into his face.
He ended up selling the car a month later because he couldn’t get the smell out.”
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