Revenge Stories When People Get Way Too Personal

Not every revenge story is a good story but as you read down through these tales, you will see that they provide you with a lot of satisfaction. After all, these people did what most of us have dreamed of doing.

This week was our middle school reunion (most of us went to the same K-8 school, ages 6-14 for our friends across the pond) and while we all were laughing and talking over Zoom, my friend (whom I’ll call Janice) brought up this memory.

At our schools, with the exception of Kindergarten, two grades would be paired together (so 1st and 2nd grades would be taught together, 3rd and 4th would be taught together, so on and so forth).

The 7th and 8th grades had to do a special project every year called Toy Team (or TT).

Basically, we would be put into teams, build a specific toy that we could market. Representatives from local businesses would be invited to judge our projects and win awards in various categories (Best Presentation, Best Design, Best Research, etc).

The idea behind this project was to teach teamwork, ingenuity, creativity, etc. But in the end, it caused more trouble than it was worth… for reasons I’ll get to in a moment.

I hated TT with a passion. The biggest reason being that the boys would take over the building of the toy and the girls did the secretarial work (listing results, surveying the groups, writing final reports, etc). It wasn’t fair but I was always too afraid to speak my mind and ask to help to build (something I’ve always enjoyed).

But the 8th-grade year was the one that almost broke me because of one kid.

Enter Carlos (not his real name). Carlos was in 7th grade but was touted as a math and science genius. He had to go to the local high school to take math/science classes because none of the teachers at our school were qualified to teach at his level.

He also prided himself on being a cool kid and had a gang of sycophants follow him around, reaffirming his greatness.

In reality, Carlos was a little punk who honestly should’ve used a lesson or two in the school of hard knocks. He was a jerk to the highest degree, always looked down on everyone else, and since his parents (who were honestly Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy come to life) defended his actions and threatened everyone around them.

Because it was a private school and Carlos’ parents were big donors, even the teachers were limited in what they could and couldn’t do to discipline him. The worst they could do was detention but he just shrugged it off.

Seriously, unless he killed somebody, Carlos was untouchable.

Janice and I were thrilled to be in the same group… until we learned we’d be paired with Carlos. Carlos immediately took over the project and bossed Janice and me around. Janice and I were favorite targets for Carlos and his sycophants because we were quiet, kept to ourselves, and just focused on our work.

Carlos proceeded to make our experience in TT miserable. He claimed that because he was the big math and science expert, only he could build our glider and we had to write it down.

Janice and I put up with it at first because we knew our teachers would do nothing and it was just an 8-week long group project.

Then one day, during Week 6, it happened.

We had to test the gliders. Our testing rigs were set up with yardsticks and rubber bands on tables. You’d load the gliders into the rubber bands, pull them back and launch. Then you’d measure how far they flew and make your corrections.

Once again, the boys took over and the girls did the recording. Janice and I were making notes when I noticed the rubber band was about to snap due to how stretched out it was. I warned Carlos about the rubber band and to adjust the glider.

When he protested, our teacher (who I’ll call Mrs. Adams) snapped at him and told him ‘Listen to your partners and adjust.’

Well, Carlos did as said… but he pulled back the glider back too far and too fast. As a result, the rubber band snapped. The rubber band not only slapped Carlos in the face but broke our glider to pieces because he pulled it back too far and the force hit the fragile wood.

Carlos was annoyed and turned his anger on me. ‘No wonder you suck at math and science.’ He said.

This, in addition to all the stuff going on, broke me. Math and science were indeed my worst subjects because I have a learning disability that makes those subjects tough.

But I’ve always loved building and repairing things. My dad is an engineer and some of my earliest memories were of him teaching me how to fix my toys and encouraging me to experiment with different building things. In addition, I was a total Daddy’s Girl.

I wanted to make him proud and I knew that me being bad at math and science was something that stressed him out.

So, I’m not joking, I ran away, like in those cliché 90’s movies. My house was two blocks away and I ran there.

Fortunately, my teachers knew that there weren’t many places I could’ve gone and called my Mom (who was a stay-at-home mom) to tell her what happened and to please return me to school.

What I didn’t know was that Dad was working home that day.

When I ran in, crying and upset, he noticed and went after me. He calmed me down and asked what happened.

I told him everything. About Carlos taking over. About how Janice and I were doing all the hard work and Carlos being a nasty bully.

The rubber band snapping and me getting blamed.

Dad was quietly hugging me, kissing my forehead. When Dad is quiet, that usually means he is angry. When I looked up, I saw that his mouth was set in a hard line and his eyes were dark.

I was scared he was angry at me. I begged him to not be mad at Janice or me because it wasn’t our fault.

Dad instead reassured me that he wasn’t mad at Janice or me.

He was mad at Carlos… and had an idea to teach that little punk a lesson.

Dad then called the school, reassured Mrs. Adams that I was okay and that I would spend the rest of the day at home. He also sent an email to not only Mrs. Adams but Janice’s parents detailing this plan of his. Janice’s parents and Mrs. Adams were game.

After we heard it, Janice and I were smiling ear to ear even though we knew we had to put in the work all by ourselves.

The next day, Mrs. Adams pulled Carlos, Janice, and me aside and said, thanks to the glider incident, Carlos was now on his own and had to finish the project by himself.

Janice and I would be doing our own project.

Carlos was pretty happy about this ‘because those two slowed me down’. However, what Carlos was not thinking about was that since Janice and I were doing all the paperwork, we had all the information.

We offered to share our notes with him in an attempt to be fair…but he said ‘It’s all in my head and I don’t need it to slow me down. In fact, I bet I can do it even better!’ We all had to sign a contract that information was not exchanged and witnessed by Mrs. Adams.

The next two weeks were easily the best of TT for Janice and me. Since we had all of the notes, we were able to rebuild the glider in less than a week. Our Dads even set up a makeshift glider range for us to test and we spent an entire Saturday flying the gliders (one in red, the other in blue, which were the most popular colors according to our surveys).

As a result, we improved our glider and even made a game out of it, racing them. When Janice’s Dad mentioned the red and blue gliders reminded him of the Gemini Dueling Coaster at Cedar Point… we decided to name the toys after the coaster and make them a two for one.

We built the box for our gliders, got our calculations double-checked by not only Mrs. Adams but two independent adults as well. Both Dads (who were coworkers) signed off on the math, even adding their proof of work and signing the back (this is important for later), a presentation board with an overview, and a huge binder showing all of our work.

Janice and I worked really, really, really hard on this project and it felt awesome. On our last day, we had a pizza party and sleepover, making bets on what Carlos’ reaction was most likely going to be.

Presentation Day arrived. This was one of the few days we could wear something else other than our school uniform so we were dressed in nice outfits to make our presentations.

Janice and I stood together with our gliders and had big smiles on our faces.

We looked at Carlos… who had an actual nice-looking glider, box, presentation board, paperwork, and everything. However…he had an anxious look on his face instead of his usual arrogant and jerky one.

Which made me happier.

Presentation Day worked like this; the first half of the day would be the representatives walking around and judging who had the best-looking gliders, boxes, presentation boards, binders, etc. Then we’d have lunch and come back. The ones who had been selected for the second round would then make their presentations to not only the representatives but the entire class.

Janice and I answered the questions asked by the representatives with confident and clear answers. One of the businesses that attended was the engineering firm that our Dads worked for. They were impressed with our presentation and selected us for the second round.

Carlos was also selected…

and he had a worrisome look on his face when the bell rang.

After lunch, we returned… and something about the way the binder was sitting made me double-check.

Wouldn’t you know it… the pages with double-checked calculations and proof of work were gone.

Carlos, being the jerk he was, didn’t keep notes about his experiments… so he decided to steal our work and present it as his own.

Janice and I decided to take a professional approach in order to grind Carlos further into the dirt. I went up to Mrs. Adams and the representatives and asked them if they had gone through our binder when we were gone because the calculations and proof of work pages were missing.

Mrs. Adams was immediately suspicious as well, given Carlos’ behavior… and immediately walked over, took his binder off the table, flipped through it… and found the corrections page.

He had hastily scrawled in his name at the top next to ours so it looked like he was involved.

Mrs. Adams looked at him and said ‘Carlos, why did you take the pages?’

Carlos said, ‘They gave their work to me, remember?’

Fortunately, Janice and I included our copy of the signed contract from earlier saying Carlos had refused the use of our information in our binder and pulled it out.

At this point, Carlos looked like the kid who denied he had been eating cookies even though he had a ring of crumbs around his lips. ‘Well…they stole my double-checked work! See!’ He shows the proof of work our Dads had done.

‘I took it out and put it back.’

Then Janice looked at one of the men (who I learned later was the supervisor of the team both of our Dads were a part of) and said ‘Mr. Lionel, could you please check his proof of work?

Our Dads signed the back of ours.’

Mr. Lionel agreed and flipped the page over. Carlos didn’t notice that our Dads had signed the back of the proof of work and included their names. Mr. Lionel nodded. ‘I know those signatures anywhere,’ he said before looking at Carlos with a glare that could wilt a flower.

‘You told me you wanted to be an engineer someday, right?’

Carlos could only nod, his face white.

‘You are aware that engineers take the theft of others’ work seriously?’

Again, Carlos nodded.

‘And that if you were doing this in a professional setting, you’d not only be fired from the company but blackballed from the industry?’ Mr. Lionel said, staring down at this kid.

Carlos looked like a melted snowman that wanted to disappear into the ground.

I learned later that Mr. Lionel was a nice man… but man, I could immediately see why our Dads respected him at that moment.

Mr. Lionel turned to Mrs. Adams ‘I recommend that he be disqualified from the next round and be made to apologize to these two girls in addition to returning the proofs to them.’

Carlos did return the paper and apologized for the theft, not looking me in the eye.

As a result, not only was Carlos disqualified but because he plagiarized, he flunked the project as a whole. Since TT was at least 30% of our science grade, he ended up getting his first ‘D’ on his report card… which his parents had a freaking field day with until Mr. Lionel sent them a letter telling them what their son had done and that if he didn’t shape up, he risked real trouble in his professional life.

Janice and I ultimately won Best Design… but the best award was seeing Carlos’ ego get knocked down several pegs. He was still a jerk… but was scared of us.

Hey, I might be bad at math and science… but at least I know not to be mean to people who might help me someday.”

My mom is pretty nasty to my wife. I stand up for the Mrs every time, but it is still something we are working on (or will be in the future, right now my mom is on my house, my rules power trip). This happened when we had our own place.

We’ve never been super well off, and our car was a piece of work and the passenger side front window could not be rolled up.

We picked my mom up at the airport. My lovely was in the front, and instead of a greeting, the first thing out of my mom’s mouth was that she was sitting in the front.

I nicely asked her to get in the back, but she fought with me about how my wife is disrespectful. My mom went to put her bag in the trunk, and I asked my wife to sit in the back. She gave me a look of betrayal, but I promised her it would be worth it.

I mentioned to my mom that the window doesn’t roll up, but she didn’t care. It was a nice sunny day, the perfect day actually for a car wash. My mom seemed to have forgotten about her window until the water hit her in the face.

She started swearing at me, but I just blew my wife a kiss. The best part was the cloth thing with the big soapy mess, and yes the car got soaked, but it was 100% worth it. My mom was wet and furious, so of course, we stopped at the drive-thru, got some ice cream, and took a long way home.

Amazingly my mom was happy to sit in the back when we brought her back to the airport.”

2.
Dad grew up in what is now the Rust Belt back when the Rust was starting to form (so ’50s-’70s).

So it was a Wild West scenario, especially in his blue-collar hometown. People were leaving to find better jobs and the big factories were beginning to downsize/shut down. His hometown quickly gained a reputation as a dangerous place to live. This became true after the city didn’t have enough funds to pay the police force to work 7 days a week.

So the police force would work Monday through Friday and had the weekend off.

If you’re thinking this was leading to a dangerous situation… you are absolutely right. Dad told me stories about how his neighbors would be broken into while said homeowners were home, would steal all of their stuff, and then leave because they knew the cops weren’t coming.

My grandparents were so worried that Grandpa (a Korean Vet) went out and bought a couple of firearms and made sure he had plenty of ammo for both the firearms and his service revolver.

By this time, Dad had just finished his last year of college, was now married to my Mom, and living in the state’s largest city (about two to three hours away from his hometown).

Mom had wanted a 1964 cherry red Ford Mustang Convertible ever since she was a little girl. As a (belated) wedding present for her, Dad went out, found a broken-down Ford Mustang Convertible in a junkyard, and fixed up the Convertible for her for maybe $200 (about $700 today, adjusted for inflation).

Mom was so happy when she got the car that ‘I got lucky that night’ (as Dad put it) and would brag about her husband spoiling her.

Anyway, during this time, Dad’s youngest sister (Aunt Gertie) had graduated high school, married her high school sweetheart, and moved out to be with her new husband.

So Grandma and Grandpa decided now was a good time to get out of town and downsize. They asked my parents to come and help them pack and move, something Dad was happy to do as he would get to see his school friends and hang out with them.

Unfortunately, a couple of days before Dad was supposed to go and help, his car broke down and it needed some major repairs (he had to order some parts that would take a while to arrive). They had no choice but to use Mom’s car.

Mom (and Dad) were nervous about this because that car (while not in mint condition) looked really good and was a prime target for car thieves. Doubly so because my parents would be at least spending the weekend when there’d be no police on duty.

However, Dad was a problem solver… and during the drive, came up with his plan to basically make the car retrievable in case of theft.

Once my parents arrived in the hometown, Dad’s first step was to call up his buddies from school (who had all become engineers, welders, or mechanics) and ask them for their help.

In exchange for some beers and some of my Mom’s delicious cooking, they agreed to help. Dad also got Grandpa involved as well… just in case

The first thing was to weld a cap on one end of an 8-inch diameter pipe that was about 2 and a half feet long.

They then filled the tube with white fluorescent paint. Once the pipe was loaded with paint, they soldered the bottom of a tin can to the open end of the pipe. They attached the tube to the undercarriage, right by the trunk. Finally, they punched a nail into the tin closing, tied the nail with a little bit of fishing line, and tied the other end of said fishing line to the wheel rim.

Here’s how it would work; when the unlucky thieves would take off, the wheel would spin, pulling out the nail. Paint would then drip out of the hole made by the nail at a slow place (because the hole was small and the tube loaded with paint).

They planned to follow the trail until they found the car and bring it back. Unless you were looking at the undercarriage itself and could see the full apparatus, you wouldn’t really see the trap. If you did, unless you’re really skilled with cars, you’d think the pipe was part of the car workings.

They set the car out at 4:30 PM on Friday (the cops would be off by 6) and waited, everyone, taking shifts through the night so as to alert everyone else when the car was taken.

Nothing happened Friday night.

Saturday came and went with no troubles either.

Then… at about 1 AM on Sunday… Mom heard the unmistakable sound of glass breaking and alerted everyone. By the time they got out there, the car was gone… and a long trail of paint was leading them in the right direction. Dad and two of his buddies (let’s call them Sam and Tom) got into Sam’s car and they went after the Mustang.

It was during this they realized that this might not have been a smart idea. One, they had gone out without weapons. Two, the paint could easily be smeared by another car passing, creating a false trail. And three, they had to stay close but not too close, lest the carnappers get suspicious.

Fortunately, either the thieves were too playful or too stupid (Dad believes it was a combination), Dad, Sam, and Tom only had to follow the car for 15 or so minutes until it pulled into the driveway of a decent-looking home. Just to be safe, the trio waited maybe 30 minutes until the thieves went inside the house and the lights shut off.

The car window was busted (but they could easily replace it) and the thieves had hotwired the car. Tom plugged the hole in the tube to keep paint from leaking out further and creating a trail and Dad, using his keys, turned on the car and followed Tom and Sam home.

Well, apparently the thieves must’ve heard them leaving because the next thing Dad, Tom, and Sam knew… they were being chased by someone. Since there were no speed traps, Dad and Sam had the pedal to the metal, praying that they would not T-Bone someone while running red lights and stop signs and making hairpin turns that almost flipped them over.

As I said, this town was the 70’s version of the Wild West.

By some miracle, all three got back to my Grandparent’s house without hurting anyone else or themselves, the thieves still hot on their heels. Dad and Sam both honked their horns to alert Grandpa as the thieves pulled up.

Well, the two thieves got out of their car and Dad felt his heart race as he saw that at least one of them had a baseball bat and a knife.

And here comes Grandpa… holding his sawed-off firearm at the ready.

Here’s an important thing to note about Grandpa; he was 6 and a half feet tall, 300 lbs of (mostly) muscle, and has never raised his voice to anyone, especially when he was angry.

Now, Grandpa was a big cuddly teddy bear type to us grandkids growing up… but upon your first meeting him, you might not think he was a sweetheart.

The car thieves stopped menacing Dad, Tom, and Sam and stared at Grandpa. Their eyes were as big as saucers and their mouths agape.

‘I’m going to give you boys to the count of 3 to get out of here and never come back,’ Grandpa said in a low, soft, and clear voice.

Dad winced when he heard Grandpa say that. The few times he ever got smacked by Grandpa was when Grandpa warned him he would count to 3 and Dad didn’t listen.

Grandpa meant business.

Grandpa didn’t even get to the count of ‘2’. The thieves jumped back into their car and must’ve broken the sound barrier due to how fast they were driving.

By the middle of the week, my grandparents were all packed up and the car window on the convertible had been repaired so everyone went home; safe, free, and all had their cars.

#3

So, I love my mom but she can be a massive witch.

She has always had everything handed to her. She has always gotten what she wanted, because she was rich and pretty, and has been coddled to death by my grandfather and my stepdad. Pretty much she is the girl you would have hated if you went to high school with her.

My mom never liked anyone I went out with. She doesn’t like many other women and would say she is a tomboy despite the fact she is always dressed to the nines with hair and makeup done, but really, she just likes hanging around men, because women don’t care that she is pretty, so she loses her evil superpower.

My mom was pretty nasty to my fiancée, now wife but I am going to say fiancée for this story. My fiancée did not grow up as privileged as my mom and is a normal down to earth person. My mom has a mean sense of humor, though in her defense she usually likes people who can give it back to her, but not this time.

We had a small wedding over the summer, so it was mostly family and close friends. We had some pre-wedding festivities, so men were in one cabin and women in the other, for a kind of bachelor/bachelorette party leading up to the wedding.

My fiancée’s sister called me, late at night, to complain about how wretched my mom was being. She was taking digs at everyone, but mainly my fiancée, and making jokes about how she is going to upstage her at the wedding.

Now, this might be vain, but my fiancée had mentioned to me that it was something she was worried about. My mom did some modeling and knows how to turn it on when she wants to. They played some bachelorette games, and for one where you had to guess answers about my fiancée, my mom kept guessing super insulting answers, and then during their spa time, my mom ‘spilled’ some mud mask all over my fiancée’s hair.

My future sister-in-law said it was really ruining the night for my fiancée and she was embarrassed. So I decided it was time for one last party game. I went to the grocery store and bought pie tins, whipped cream, caramel, chocolate sauce, and made some pie.

Now usually when you make a prank pie to throw at someone, it’s just some whipped cream on a plate, but that is lame. I filled these bad boys up, drove to the girl’s cabin (I’d texted sister-in-law to keep fiancée awake, but it was like one in the morning by the time I got there).

I told my fiancée that there was one more game, and she should know what to do, winked at her, and let the girls have their fun. My mom was furious. She ended up leaving and saying she wasn’t coming to the wedding, which she did come to, but she missed the ceremony.

My mom tore up the check she was planning as the wedding gift, and I’m not going to lie, that sucked because she is loaded, but honestly, our party game was priceless. After the wedding, my mom did not speak to me for months.

She is still pretty annoyed about it, but my only regret is that I didn’t know she was going to leave in the morning, or I would have bought them water balloons as well.

Apparently, I was too coy and it wasn’t satisfying, so I asked my wife for a play-by-play.

I guess she cursed my wife out and laughed at the bridesmaids for being poor (college students, but dear old granddad never let my mom be a poor college student). I wish I went up to see the fruits of my labor, but my wife assures me she was covered in it, and she had shorts and a tank top, and long hair, so everything was a sticky mess.

They planned it as a strategy game. The first pie went in the face when she jumped up the second one nailed her from behind, and since she was sleeping the room was dark and one was hiding a few feet away, so she got a second to the face.

My wife said they scooped up what they could and chased her to the bathroom just lobbing handfuls at her.

#5
So this takes place before I was born, the story involves my Mum, my uncle, and their old man (and yes I do not call him my grandad cause he doesn’t deserve it). So my mum is the oldest out of her siblings, my Uncle (if I remember correctly) is the second oldest. Well, family life was not that pretty for my mum.

She left when she was 16 (again if I recall right), their old man was a bitter, violent, stubborn man and pretty much cut my mother out of his will, whatever she didn’t need his money. Well, soon enough, the Old Man dies, leaving an inheritance to all the kids except for my mum with my Uncle getting the big piece of that pie.

My grandmother asks my Uncle to allow her to give some money to mum since by that time my two oldest siblings were already born. My Uncle did not. In fact, he did something worse.

You see there’s something you should know, my uncle is a ‘religious’ man (yes I meant to put that in quotations) and has the same name as the old man, and somehow got the will and changed it so that he got all of it leaving none for the rest. So yeah, where does Karma come in?

Well as the story goes, within two weeks of getting the funds, my Uncle met a woman who had learned about his gain in the bank account. So she began to sweet talk him, telling him about how he could easily not just double but triple his fortune.

Yep, she was a scammer and my Uncle took the whole thing, hook… line, and sinker. She not only took the funds he got from his old man but all of it, every last cent in his account. So in summary, my Uncle stole an inheritance that was meant to spread across the family to only lose it and the rest of his account to a scammer.

So how much did he lose? No idea. The number was never stated but my mother guesses it to be in the thousand marks maybe more. I guess he really should have read that part about reaping what you sow, for karma works sometimes fast, sometimes slow but it always gets it due.

#6
This happened around 8th grade in 2014 and that’s one of the few things I remember. I always have been a guy who completely put my mother on a pedestal. She is a single mom police officer and she raised me and my stupid sister very well.

She is the greatest woman I’ve ever met and she is also very well-known where she works, and that has always made me proud since I was little. Another thing is that I was bullied that time in school for 3 reasons 1 – I was fat REEAAALLY FAT, 2 – I came from a catholic private school and this new one was a cheap private school because my mom was struggling to pay for my last school so we decided to move and finally, 3 – I was the new kid.

But that does not stop me from making some friends. I was definitely not a popular guy, but I got some loyal friends while I was in there, but there was this popular kid who we’ll call John. This guy was a jerk. He was always commenting on my weight, how could I be so fat, how could a guy be so dorky ETC. All the time I just ignored John because whatever, I will not destroy my day to make the jerk happy.

I was just living my life normally when one day my mother came to pick me up at school earlier than usual and entered my class. I just went there and gave a kiss on her face and gave her a big hug and we went out.

The next day when I entered class, John started saying this:

J: Hey nice lady you have there.

me: Pardon, what?

J: You have that old weird lady to pay everything for you that’s why you are so fat. She buys you everything just for you to sleep with her.

My blood boiled.

It was not just hot, it was lava hot. I am not the athletic type and I knew this guy boxes in his free time and I didn’t care. I throw myself at him and make him fall with me from the chair and I started punching the guy in the face.

I just started punching him in the face all the time. When he starts to try to defend himself with his fist, I pull his arm and give him a bite on his arm. IT WAS HORRIBLE. I almost destroyed the guy’s arm in the rage.

The principal was called and I got suspended for a whole month. My mom was called and she thanked me for defending her but said I had gone too far. My director said that’s not how a polite person should be in society and other moral, mumbo jumbo.

I have no regrets in doing this because that jerk never bullied another kid until the last day I was there.

#7
Growing up I played hockey from Kindergarten to my senior year of high school. It happened more by the fact that when my parents put me on skates at the age of three, I surprised them by more or less learning to skate in one session.

I was like that with most motor skills, a fact that would haunt me later as I got older.

As I aged, I developed into a body more built for the Offensive Line in football, but the constant exercise and massive calorie requirements of Ice Hockey kept me in good shape through High School, It did mean I was generally forty or fifty pounds heavier than everyone else on the ice, and while it did not affect my top speed, it did affect my acceleration.

The predictable result was that I was always passed over for the ‘traveling’ teams and I gravitated to Football where I was a defensive lineman.

By the time I was in High School I more or less played hockey for fun and the exercise, I never made the High School team (this is in Minnesota, so it is a much bigger deal there).

One of the reasons I loved sports so much was that I had a mild speech impediment, I had a tendency to slur my words if I did not speak carefully. Naturally, I was an easy target for bullies, especially in the 90s, when school was doing their level best to end physical bullying, in essence punishing me harder if I ever retaliated physically for the daily verbal torment I received.

Entering my senior year and failing to make the High School team for the fourth and final time, I walked into my Junior Gold Locker room to find an annoyance I knew. We will call him A for the time being. He was two years younger and was a scrawny little jerk who liked to harass people verbally.

I mostly ignored him, I had moved to the area the year before I started High School, so I did not have the friends the other kids grew up with, and unfortunately, this was the type of community that would freeze out people they did not grow up with.

A was the kind of person who would target isolated people, he would not dare go after people with their friends. Since I spent my time mostly alone he would try to harass me, but the obvious difference in size (at my senior year I was 6’3, and 250 lbs of muscle from Football, Ice Hockey, Track and Field (shot put), and summers spent in the weight room) and the fact I pointedly ignored him didn’t give him much.

While I ignored him I did pay attention to what he did to others, in addition to harassing people of both genders verbally, he was also handsy, and more than once had been slapped by girls. He was also inextricably able to get himself out of trouble like that which should have gotten him suspended or expelled multiple times.

By the time Hockey season started I really was starting to hate A.

Within the school, I was more or less powerless to do anything about it without getting myself expelled, and all I could do at the time was simply bide my time and hope I had a moment I could get him caught, or get revenge.

I ignored A as I got dressed and we went through the opening basic drills for practice until we got to a fore-checking drill.

The drill is meant to get kids to be motivated to go after the puck in the corner after it had been dumped into the corner and learn to prevent yourself from being hit from behind in the process.

A thought a lot of his skills, and to his credit, he was able to move well, though any credit he made was erased by his habit of slashing people with the stick. A thought he would show me up and made sure it was him against me.

The first time we went through the drill, he made it to the puck first and tried to dart away, but I knew he was going to make it first this time and had instead set up to hit him. He was short enough to hit the boards instead of the glass, I wasn’t at full speed more than half to three quarters, but the fact that I was more than a hundred pounds heavier left him a crumpled mess on the ice.

With him, on the ground, I grabbed the puck and skated away with it, and to annoy him, I went down the ice to the other side of the rink and dumped the puck into the unused net (our goalie was doing reaction drills office with a coach and a tennis ball).

When I returned to the near blue line A was there bruised and seething. He started running his mouth but our coach shut him down.

‘If you want to play with the Big boys you better be ready for the hits A,’ the coach told him.

The coach was the father of one of our goalies, and both of them readily hated A.

‘If you are mad then hit back, legally,’ he told A, meaning for A to take the Gordie Howe approach and get your revenge without breaking the rules.

The coach also had known me for five years as I had been on his son’s team. Goaltenders tend to like the big Defenders who shove people away from the crease and punish people who crashed the net on them. By this point, I was well into the coach’s good graces, and he knew of my usual trick with dealing with smaller faster players.

We set up for the drill again, this time I was on the outside and the coach fired the puck so A would be the trailer. I could hear A coming up from behind me, and I guessed that he would crosscheck from behind, the kind of dirty move referees almost never call smaller players on when they hit bigger players.

Not wanting to take a wooden shaft to my back, I waited until I was nearing the goal line, and then hard stopped, letting my stick in my left hand (I used a lefty stick) to touch the puck while plating my feet and dropping my shoulder.

A crashed face-first into my right shoulder, I had timed it nearly perfectly, he had just enough time to slow marginally, and learned away backward, but he could not prevent the hit. In addition to the hit to the face, he prompt fell backward slamming the back of his (helmeted) head into the ice.

I had lost control of the puck and turned grabbed the puck and slowly went back to the line.

By the time I reached the line, A was fumbling with the door latch to leave the rink and went off the ice. This was the last time we saw him at our practice, and A played for a U-16 that year in a town about thirty miles away.

Everything I had done to A were legal moves, both times I hit him was to control possession of the puck, or to brace for a hit I knew was coming.

A was conspicuously absent from school that week. His mother tried to get me kicked off the team, but the coach and the other parents didn’t like her, and most of them hated her kid.

She was also my mother’s boss and tried to get her fired. My mother worked for the school district and filed a complaint, and started documenting A’s mother’s behavior. A’s Mother was nearly as hated as he was for more or less the same reasons.

Eventually, my mother transferred to a different job in the school district, and A’s Mother eventually overstepped and was fired for cause (she had been stealing from the district for years).

A never tried to annoy me again, and he avoided me at all costs after that.

In most cases, I never got the chance to get even with bullies like him, and he was a real tormentor of the kids his age, but getting the chance to crush a bully without any recourse at all felt really good.

#8
This story is of an Ex I used to have (the Ex is not the one I got revenge on, she was a lovely woman and nothing bad to say about her, we just didn’t work out).

Let’s call my Misses Jada (she’s black) and I’m white.

Well, Jada wanted to do a photoshoot with us, so she went ahead and bought 3 very nice dresses with the intent of only using them for the photoshoot and then reselling them. I was told she paid anywhere from $80-$150 per dress depending on the dress.

We did the photoshoot and she turned to the online marketplace to resell the dresses. She sold 2 of the 3 dresses with no issues. The 3rd dress was another story.

Apparently, the woman she sold the 3rd dress to refused to pay, yes that’s right Jada sent the dress to the buyer without payment.

This woman (let’s call her Ashley) said the dress was not as advertised, didn’t fit, etc. Jada told Ashley ‘Hey that’s fine, just return the dress no harm no foul.’

At this point Ashley blocked my misses, keep in mind this is over $50… and from what I was told $50 for a dress worn only once like this was a REALLY good deal, this really bugged Jada which in turn resulted in me getting annoyed. So Jada asked me to reach out to Ashley.

When I looked up her social media account, I also felt like she might block me too, and I saw she listed her husband who was a soldier in the Army. I decided before I would message Ashley I would add her husband as a friend, and I also wrote down his name in a note-taking app I had on my phone in case Ashley blocked me.

I got Ashley to respond, and the result was the same I ended up blocked. Now at this point, I’m assuming that this is a simple case of females acting crazy and I’m thinking a quick message to her Husband would resolve all this.

Did I mention by the time this had gone down he had accepted my friend request?

Boy did this person have a lot of personal information on social media (folks, this is a tip… don’t do that) let’s call this soldier Sgt. Johnson.

I message Sgt Johnson and I explain the situation and we have a bit of back and forth.

I tell him that I think we can sort this whole mess out. The choice is simple:

Return the dress or send us $50.

Now as I’m messaging him waiting for a response I go through his page out of boredom and oh dear, it was a gold mine of anti-semitic viewpoints, straight-up racism, and so, so, so much more.

Now he’s responded.

Basically, he’s saying go away in a nice way. He doesn’t want to be bothered over a dress.

I decide before I respond, I’ll screenshot his profile. It was really helpful that not only did he list his employer as US Army, but also the unit he was in.

I also screenshot like 6 or 7 different very racist posts he had made.

I messaged him back and I told him he needs to do what is right, he needs to pay for the dress or return it. That he needs to do what’s right or it’s going to cost him.

He tells me his wife doesn’t wanna pay me and my black wife and that they are ‘burning the dress.’

Now I’m fuming, at this point I know what I’m going to do anyway but I tell him very plainly.

“You are going to pay me for the dress, OR I will forward screenshots of your account to your unit.”

He blocks me.

At this point I know I’m not going to get anything, so I inform Jada of the news, she’s mad but I tell her I got an idea.

That Monday I call up his unit and I ask to speak to the commander whose name I found on Google.

I get put through the commander secretary and I inform the secretary I have evidence that an NCO within the commander’s unit is a proud white supremacist.

The secretary takes down my details and says the commander will reach out to me.

Later that afternoon I get a call back from a Cpt Jack.

Cpt Jack and I have a conversation, I explain that I discovered this soldier on social media, we had a bit of back and forth, he made racist comments about me and my woman, plus in the short period I was a friend on his social media page, I was able to screenshot several posts of incredibly racist viewpoints.

I could tell Cpt Jack was taking this seriously, I don’t think any commander wants a white supremacist in their ranks, especially with one that has authority such as an NCO.

Cpt Jack asks me if I would be willing to forward over the screenshots, I say I got them all saved in a folder and I’d be happy to forward them on over.

No, I did not bring up the dress issue, I felt like if I did bring up the dress issue with the Captain it might muddy the waters on my report, plus it’s only $50.

Cpt Jack thanked me. That afternoon I went to the ATM I pulled out $50 and went home and told my misses they had finally paid us.

That way she’d get off my back. She thanked me, called Ashley a witch, and went back to watching her TV.

About 6 weeks later if I recall I get a call from a JAG officer. For those of you who don’t know, JAG is basically an active duty lawyer.

The JAG officer asks me if I’d be willing to answer some questions in regards to my report. I say of course. Answer the questions I ask the JAG officer what’s going on and I get the response I was hoping for.

‘I’m sorry but I can’t discuss an ongoing investigation’ it sounded like he had a smile on his face, we both knew what that meant.

Now I have a friend who was in the same unit. I fill him in on what’s going on and ask him as I’m curious if anything happens.

Several months go by, and one day I get a call from my buddy.

‘Hey, you know that Sgt Johnson?’ I go ‘yea?’ He laughs and goes ‘he’s not a Sgt anymore, he’s not in the Army anymore, he’s been kicked out.’ I go ‘Did they say why?’ and my friend tells me well he didn’t get an ‘official reason’ right after he was kicked out.

The unit had a briefing on racism within the ranks, how to report it, and a lesson on what you can and can’t post on social media.

This event happened at an overseas duty location a few years back, also at the time I was working as a civilian on a different base.

I used my Military mailing address to mail the dress to them. So when they got the package all they knew was my mailing box info, and I also know when he got kicked out he’d be sent back stateside. So I wasn’t concerned about him finding me or doing something to me.

#9
Before I met my current wife, I was engaged to a beautiful woman I didn’t deserve named Nami. Nami was the whitest Japanese person I had ever met. I don’t mean she ‘acted white’, I mean she acted like a white girl who hung out with black people.

At home she was all NASCAR and country music, her parents were particularly into those things, but out and about she was all rap music and hip hop. But this is important in context to me who is African American and I had/have less street cred than she does?

I grew up in the suburbs and got picked on by other black kids for talking white or not being black enough. My only run-in with the ‘hood’ was when I was really little before my parents split. My mother was a bit of a user, though I don’t think that’s why she and dad split.

Anyway, that’s all to say that her interest in me was baffling at best. But we shared a lot of other interests and she was adorable. Though to this day, I can tell you that that woman can and I hope eventually did do better.

Anyway, Nami had this friend, a white girl named Samantha. Samantha went to the same college as her, we’ll call it Generic State University, a different one than I went to. I went to, For-Profit, Would Not Recommend.

Now in order to get me out of my dorm room and into more of a ‘college life’ Nami would take me to parties that Samantha and friends would be at.

Samantha was either pledging or just hanging on to this sorority, but I know she wasn’t in it. A lot of times I could hear those girls talking about how they only hung out with her because she bought them stuff. Her mom or dad apparently had money and was big into real estate or something.

Despite not really fitting in with the crowds, I liked hanging out with Samantha cause I liked her significant other, we’ll call him Dr. Jekyll. He was cool, I thought, and looked out for me at the parties and even pointed out one time when one of the frat boys was crushing up on Nami, though she didn’t need my help saying no. I wasn’t the jealous type, more of the self-deprecating type.

Instead of panicking about who she was with, or if she was two-timing me, I kind of just thought; ‘Well today is that day huh? Well, I had a good run…’ Just something about her always made me think that she would wake up one day and say; ‘Alright, I’ve done my public service for a while.’ And go be with the other beautiful people.

Anyhow, I got really close to Dr. Jekyll and Samantha. Samantha was into Pokemon and Dr. Jekyll was into anime and football. Though he was more of a, whatever is on Toonami, anime fan; and didn’t much like subtitles or anything not mainstream. And was a bandwagon Patriots Fan, though all of his kid photos clearly showed he rooted for the Browns.

Either way, we had a lot in common and the group of us would hang out. I would be left with Samantha when Nami and Dr. Jekyll went off to smoke, cause I was lame and didn’t do that. I thought Samantha didn’t either, but I would find out later that she had had a HUGE substance problem in high school and was avoiding things like that.

It was our routine and everything was great for a year until it wasn’t.

One day at a party, Nami comes storming up and tells us we have to go. Dr. Jekyll is chasing after her and he looks panicked and tells her he was just kidding.

I asked what happened, immediately thinking the worse, but she says nothing happened, and she just wanted to go home. I found out later some things that really bothered me.

On the ride home Nami tells me that Dr. Jekyll tried to kiss her.

She says he was wasted but that’s no excuse. She says he apologized, but she slapped him. She admitted that Dr. Jekyll had tried to ask her out before she went out with me, but she didn’t like him because of his ‘reputation’, but then he went after Samantha who ended up going out with him.

Since I had ZERO confidence then, I asked her why cause Dr. Jekyll was obviously more good-looking than me. Like, think Chad, muscles, and everything. And she just told me to stop and told me she was happy with me being her man. I asked if we should tell Samantha and she said she didn’t know, this was the second time one of Samantha’s significant others had made a move on her and she didn’t know if she would be blamed, so she asked me not to tell Samantha until she figured out what to say.

She spent all night trying to figure out what to send her on AIM but eventually went to bed before sending the message.

I got woken up by my computer going off, someone was blowing up my Trillian. Samantha was trying to get a hold of me.

She is upset because Dr. Jekyll told her Nami tried to get him to fool around with her, and when he rejected her, she slapped him. For a moment I entertained that thought. Not because I didn’t trust Nami, but because well, why wouldn’t someone want Dr. Jekyll over me?

Self-esteem or not, it was more plausible. I dunno, I guess I’d spent the entire relationship waiting for the other shoe to drop. So I went and woke up Nami and asked her about it. She was not happy.

I didn’t accuse her of anything, I just kind of said that if she did prefer someone else that it’d be better if she just broke up with me.

She did not like that and gave me this sigh she always gave me. The kind of sigh you give a puppy who can’t quite make it up the stairs. I assure you, I’m confident about just about everything else in my life. Or rather, in certain skills and abilities I have.

But, lover, catch, desirable man? Nah, not even a little bit. She reaches and gets her phone and shows me the texts where he’s begging her not to tell me what happened and says flat out that, ‘he didn’t mean to try to kiss her, it just happened.’ She asked me if I felt better.

And I did, but I said no because I didn’t know what we were gonna do about Sam. She told me she would talk to Sam herself and told me to come back to bed, so I tried to put it out of my mind and went to sleep.

The next month was the twilight zone. So a few things I did not know; Turns out Dr. Jekyll is definitely Mr. Hyde; and will be referred to as this from here on out. So in order of what I found out a second hand from Nami, Sam, and Clara the mouthy sorority girl who treated me like a pleb, but always sought me out to listen to her gossip.

So we’ll start with, Mr. Hyde has been sleeping his way through that sorority. Like at least seven girls. I’d be impressed if it didn’t definitely make me feel inadequate. Though she assured me Mr. Hyde had not slept with my girl. She accused my girl of being something, I dunno, I had never heard the word at the time, and haven’t heard it since; but it’s apparently a girl who hangs around people with substances so she can bum stuff to smoke.

She’s friendly and flirty, but has no interest in anything but free substances and leaves the moment anyone tries to reciprocate her flirtiness. Which makes me wonder if she had led him on. Though Clara didn’t think so. Though I was warned that Nami’s ex, Kent, who was tall and reasonably handsome but was nerdier than me, was still hanging around trying to find a way out of the friendzone.

This is important because Kent was also Clara’s significant other and Mr. Hyde’s off-campus roommate, along with three others. Apparently, Samantha didn’t smoke at parties because she was already doing illegal substances; I honestly didn’t know this. The people who do those substances have a certain look to them, and she didn’t look like that.

All bug-eyed and strung out. And she never seemed, wired. Like my mom did them, I know what someone looks like when they do that, so I didn’t believe her at first. Later it was confirmed by Nami and Sam.

Nami found out that Mr. Hyde had Sam in some weird master/slave relationship, and she thought that he only slept with the girls, and guys, he brought home for them to share.

Mr. Hyde was a dealer. Something Nami knew but didn’t tell me because I would have lost my mind! But didn’t think that Sam was still using the heavier ones. And, when we finally got Sam to sit down and talk, we found out just how terrible Mr. Hyde was.

She had marks and scars, and bruises.

I never paid attention to the way Samantha dressed cause we lived somewhere cold. So long-sleeved shirts, sweaters, turtlenecks, that sort of thing, were common. And to be perfectly honest, I wasn’t looking. And I felt bad cause I really liked Mr. Hyde.

He seemed really cool and took me under his wing and got me to open up and not be so darn lame. I kind of felt betrayed finding out that he was a scumbag. He used illegal things and harassment, verbal, physical, to keep Sam in line.

Sam was paying for everything for him and went broke cause her parent had found out and cut her off. Apparently, they went no contact, and Sam had just been eating through her school funds. She was a mess and I did not know.

So I went to confront Mr. Hyde. We were still cool, I thought, we could talk this out. The person I met at the door of his house, was not the same bro who had befriended me. Looked out for me. Was there for me while I was around all those strangers.

The dude was belligerent, aggressive, and disrespectful. I’m trying to talk to him, and he’s like, 100 percent trying to curse me out and fight me; calling me all out of my name and worse. Calling me lame racial slurs and all of that. Which, I’m sorry, I’m not as mild-mannered as I appear to be.

I mean I got myself kicked weekly growing up, so, you eventually learn to fight or keep getting yourself kicked. By the 11th grade, I had finally gotten big and tired enough of being bullied that I just fought back. I mean, my dad framed it; ‘Fight them or fight me,’ and I’m much more afraid of him.

I mean, my dad’s a marine, and he was mighty abusive. Once it got framed in my mind like; ‘not one of these people can hit as hard as dad’, I wasn’t afraid to fight anymore. So, I wasn’t about to let this silly white boy get away with too many more racial slurs.

It ain’t about that word having power over me, it’s about the fact that you think you can say that, and I won’t lay hands on you. You’re basically saying you can get away with the worst and I won’t do anything about it, and you’re wrong.

Listen, I don’t have a gangsta bone in my body. I am not, ‘tough’, but I’ll say this ‘Carlton Banks was gonna beat him that day!’

So, I told him that Sam wasn’t coming back and he needed to keep his hands to himself; And if he called me out of my name again, I was gonna break his head to the white meat.

I thought it sounded cool, it’s something my sister Max always said. I know, I’m lame, but it really sounded good at the time. So, he’s got his boys behind him geeking him up. Kent’s the only one telling him this may not be a good idea.

Yadda, Yadda, Yadda. I ain’t afraid of him. Well Kent was right, wasn’t a good idea. He got a butt-whooping, I enjoyed making him less handsome than me, and was cool with an ego boost.

Anyway, after that, I say Sam can stay with us until she can get on her feet and I think I’ve done well.

I was the good man and I should be praised. I don’t know why I don’t ever see myself being wrong coming, but it comes and it always surprises me. So, Sam’s not happy. For a lot of reasons, mostly cause she thinks it’s gonna get taken out on her, and she is mad I beat him.

She says she understands but, doesn’t sound like she does. More surprising is that Nami is mad at me. Annoyed that I offered to let Sam stay with us. Sam is her friend! So, no one is happy with me. NOT EVEN ME! Cause after a while it sinks in that Mr. Hyde was my only male friend in that new city and once the adrenalin wore off, I felt bad.

Now, I’d love to say things got better from there. But they did not. Sam’s presence was a problem and keeping her from doing illegal things in the house was a chore. Nami didn’t even smoke in the house and Sam had been trying to get other things in the house.

Nami would find it in her things. Sam drank, Sam was messy, and Sam did not respect boundaries. She would walk around half-exposed and though she was attractive in theory, the condition of her body was a huge turn-off. I just couldn’t see her as an attractive being, even though she had talked to me about a poly thing.

I think that she just was worried that Nami would kick her out, and she was working with me to find a way to stay in. But living with her showed me another side of her, and I don’t think I could have ever gone out with her.

Things got worse when it turned out Sam was pregnant and it was most definitely gonna be Mr. Hyde’s. Now, Nami took me aside and told me she didn’t want Sam there anymore, but I was reluctant to kick a pregnant woman out and I suggested we talk to her parents or get her some funds to get her own place.

Her presence caused a huge problem with me and Nami, and it only got worse when we both came home from school/work, and a lot of things of value were gone. TVs, my gaming rig, Nami’s laptop, video game systems, and I had a lot, the girl took my Neo Geo AES and my Jaguar which I still haven’t replaced. I mean I collected games.

The only reason she didn’t get all of my systems is they were locked up in storage cause Nami and I had just moved in together, we’d only been in that place for like six months when this went down. I was annoyed. But not as much as Nami who didn’t say anything to me just went in the room and locked the door.

Got a message from Trillian that same day, I still had my laptop. It’s usually attached to me. It was Sam saying that she didn’t want her kid to be raised without a father and she knew Nami didn’t want her there so she was trying to move out.

She decided to tell Mr. Hyde about the pregnancy and perhaps try again as he deserved the chance to be a father to his kids. But Mr. Hyde was mad that apparently, Sam chose me over him; (like any woman would ever), and that no man would be so nice or generous to a girl if they weren’t sleeping together.

So to prove her loyalty he asked her to open up my house to him and let him and his skeevy dealer friends rob me! She apologized, saying she had to put her family first. I was so angry.

I went over there intending to beat him, but he wasn’t there.

Kent said he hadn’t seen him in weeks. Turns out he was paying them with substances and apparently one of the people Mr. Hyde was sleeping with was the partner of his supplier, who was now looking for him to beat him and collect for funds he owed. Though Clara had said that he and his friend Dogbone, and no that is not even a made-up name like the rest of them, this dude was called Dogbone, I’m not changing it, nothing I could come up with would ever be as ridiculous as sleeping with Dogbone!

Anyway, Dogbone was seen moving their stuff out and said he was driving out to the next state to live with his uncle. There were more details, but nothing helps, other than that Dogbone apparently had Sam with him when they picked up the stuff.

So that’s what happened, what follows is what I did about it.

I didn’t get my revenge right away. Couldn’t find them. Sam wasn’t online anymore and it took two months for Nami to stop side-eyeing me. This didn’t contribute to the end of our relationship, which came two years later, but, I don’t think it helped. I’ll just say.

Be communicative with your partner about your medical issues. If you isolate yourself for nine months, your partner’s gonna feel neglected, unloved, and unwanted; and a girl like that ain’t gonna wait around for a guy like me to get himself together. That’s free advice.

Anyhow, like all people who snitch on themselves, this group of losers’ choice of self snitching was social media. Apparently, life in the next state over was not going so hot for Sam. She contacted me on social media all apologetic and told me she’s sorry Nami and I broke up and saying she apologized if her thing had anything to do with it.

I didn’t respond at first. She then went on about how she had two beautiful baby girls, and how life in where she was living wasn’t great. She wanted to know if I would send her some funds, cause she was finally trying to get away from Mr. Hyde and could I help her.

At first, I just sent her a clip of Invader Zim laughing. And let it at that. But later she sends me more messages talking about how bad and weird her situation is with Hyde and Dogbone.

I wasn’t about to fall into the trap, I was still angry, but the mention of kids did break my resolve a bit.

I told her she was lying to manipulate me and all that and she sent me pictures. Pictures of her, pictures of her body. Things felt weird. She sent me pics of her girls. Two little blondes, green-eyed twins. So, against my better judgment, I called Nami, though it breaks my heart, I ask if she still has Sam’s mom’s number, she gives it to me and tells me to be careful, I tell her what’s up and she chides me about being gullible, but I assure her I’m not.

I thank her and call Sam’s mom and tell her everything, she is surprised, she didn’t even know she had grandkids and had been looking for Sam.

I contacted Sam and told her to contact her mom, she refuses. I tell her to call me on skype, she does, and while we’re talking on skype a few things happen.

One, I see their ‘stash’. There’s a little hidden trap door that is under the bed, that I very clearly see as Dogbone walks behind her and gets a baggy from it. Second thing is, I hear, whispering, Mr. Hyde coaching her on how to get funds out of me.

I pretend I don’t hear, but the game is up when one of the girls comes in calling out to him and Sam’s trying to hush her. I hit the print screen to catch everything, over and over again. Print screen, ctrl v, in photoshop which I have open.

This room is evidence central. I agree to send her funds and ask her for her address. She gives it to me. I tell her that I’m going to send her help and I do…

The first thing I did was call her mother and told her what I was doing.

I also emailed her the print screens. Doing illegal things all in the room with kids. I then look up the local police number and dropped the dime on Dogbone, Sam, and Mr. Hyde. Sam left her school ID and plenty of things when she left us, I have all her information.

Mr. Hyde, I know his full name, date of birth, and all that. And Dogbone I knew nothing about. I lay down a thick story.

Step 1 is done. Step two, I called Clara and asked Clara which of her friends was going out with the dealer.

She put me in touch, turns out, he left owing them a great deal, so much that the guy offered me five hundred dollars just for the whereabouts. I was happy to oblige though I told him about Sam, the kids, and the situation and suggested he visit after the police did their thing.

Weird thing was, the dealer guy knew me or knew of me. You that guy that used to go out with Nami. It was humbling, finding out she was going out with some jerk we’ll call Scoop.

Eventually, Clara called me back and asked if I knew where Dogbone was.

Apparently, Dogbone had three kids he left behind when he ran off with Mr. Hyde. His wife, not significant other, legal wife, still married, was looking for him for child support and all kinds of things. Apparently, Dogbone didn’t have any ‘uncles’ and whomever they were with was not actually related to him.

I gave her the address and wished her luck, I also sent her the pictures I had taken. Especially since I got several shots of Dogbone in the background smoking something in front of the kids.

So take this all with a grain of salt because my first-hand knowledge ends here.

The rest of this comes from Sam’s mother. So the police arrested them all and took the kids. Sam’s mom got her granddaughters, and last I heard has been fighting for custody of them. The police had enough to charge them all, but, apparently, they got out on bail a few weeks later, but, Mr. Hyde ended up in the hospital. Someone apparently put really, really, bad beating on him.

I wouldn’t know who. Never got that 500, I don’t think it was a real offer. Dogbone too. Sam apparently got smacked around, I feel bad about that, but her mom says that was about it. Cause she was trying to protect Mr. Hyde. I’m not sure the extent of the damage to Mr. Hyde.

Dogbone, don’t know how bad he was.

I heard from Clara, who I was seeing casually at the time, we started hooking up after I got back in touch with her. She wasn’t going out with Kent anymore, he went back east after college, that yeah, Dogbone’s wife found him and rained hot misery on him.

And apparently, he was running from some serious warrants.

I’d like to think that everyone got what was coming to them, with the bonus that I HOPE Sam lost her kids forever and they’re with her mom. She was a good lady. Clara and I were never together.

I didn’t get any of my stuff back. But, I learned a valuable lesson about helping people. Or somewhat, this isn’t actually the last time I tried to help a viper and got bit, but at least I stopped letting trifling folks stay at my house, and I’ve never tried to be a hero ever again.

Also, not that it matters, I am the only black person in this story. I write this because for some reason every time I tell it, people ask me.

#10
Brother-in-law and Wife were married for over twenty years. Brother-in-law isn’t educated all that well neither is Wife but Abroad Woman is well educated and is from a different country. Brother-in-law is hardworking though and owns 3 LARGE compounds and private cars. Overall successful guy.

Uncle is an upright man and doesn’t tolerate ANYONE being taken advantage of.

Brother-in-law starts having an affair with Abroad Woman but told Wife that it is nothing serious and is just finding a way to travel abroad, and after that, the relationship between Brother-in-law and Abroad Woman will end.

At least that’s what he told his wife, but it happens that Abroad Woman has her eyes on the properties and Brother-in-law. Abroad Woman comes up with the fake information that Brother-in-law will have to legally be married to her to be able to get the papers to travel abroad.

Brother-in-law told Wife about the new info, but Wife thought it was too extreme so she declined, and tried talking her husband out of the whole scheme, but Brother-in-law was too eager to go abroad and says she is being unreasonable. More family members get involved but Brother-in-law is too adamant to listen to anyone, so he legally went through with the divorce and went and married Abroad Woman.

Ex-wife is very heartbroken and doesn’t know what to do because she isn’t very educated and doesn’t know much about the law in her country. Uncle steps in. Uncle took the matter to the court regarding ‘every single property’ Brother-in-law owns. The court goes through the situation and decides to give two of the properties to the Ex-wife, and one for the 2 children.

Since Brother-in-law lost all of the properties, Abroad Woman doesn’t really want Brother-in-law now and she leaves for her country again. And hasn’t returned since. Brother-in-law STILL hasn’t traveled yet. He is now living in the children’s property as a caretaker until they come of age.

He lost his job, his wife, and all his cars were sold in the process of attempting to go abroad. To this day his new wife doesn’t even speak to him, and he doesn’t travel. He begged to get back with Ex-wife but she refuses to take him back

Stay loyal to people who have been there for you or it will always come back and bite you.

#11
A bit of information to explain some details: here in the UK, we have what we call “secondary education” or “secondary school.” It starts with nursery, then infants, primary, and then secondary, and tertiary education is college or equivalent.

I think secondary school is equivalent to the US grades 7 to 12. My secondary education ended in the year 2000. Secondary education lasts 5 years with each year split into 3 terms. If you take out all of the holidays, then each year was something like 9 months. So each term was 3 months.

Each term was split in the middle with what we called “half-term.” So start of term, half-term, and end of the term.

Also to make note, back then, the UK education system had a habit of not firing teachers but rather trying to hide problem teachers by transferring them to another school in another town or city unless something major happens that involves police, etc. These days, the schools are academies, owned and run by businesses with government funding, etc., and are far more strict, sometimes more strict than prisons.

But that is another story.

In my first year of secondary school, we had a French teacher in a literal sense. She was French, accent included, who had come to teach the French language to us English speakers. It was her first year in our school.

We also had a couple of students from upbringings where anything less than an “A” in grades is not acceptable.

Also in every class of every year, you had the girls that never stop talking (chatterboxes), the bullies, the fashion fanatics, the teachers’ pets, etc. To make note, teachers’ pets were those that desired an education and worked hard for it, which means they were lowest on the student food chain and targeted for the other types.

I cannot remember her name, so let’s just call her “Mademoiselle Chienne.” You can use a translator for that name if you want.

Mademoiselle Chienne was teaching French to classes of different years, and almost straight off the whistle, she was rude and condescending to her students.

If you couldn’t say, “Hello, my name is…” in French after the first week, then you’re not worth teaching.

My class had Mademoiselle Chienne, two of the smart students, a couple of bullies, a couple of chatterboxes, and several teachers’ pets. I was, unfortunately, part of the teachers’ pet category with dire consequences for me, but that’s another story.

Mademoiselle Chienne had a habit of talking aloud to herself but in her native language. When Mademoiselle Chienne would teach us about a part of the language for the day and told us to put our noses into the study books, she would return to her desk and watch the class.

This is also the moment when the chatterboxes would start talking to each other about anything and everything not class-related. A bully would kick the student’s chair in front, etc.

Whenever the chatterboxes would start up, Mademoiselle Chienne would shake her head and mutter something rude in French before calling out for them to be quiet.

As you know, these sort of chatterboxes will only shut up for 2 minutes at most causing her to mutter other awful things about the students.

However, one of the smart students sat at the front of the class next to her desk, so he could hear her muttering.

But he wasn’t the only one. As he needed top marks in French along with other subjects, he started learning what she was muttering.

After only a few weeks, he had learned what she was muttering and wasn’t happy. He had gone straight to the Headmaster but was dismissed by telling him that he had only just started learning French, so he doesn’t know what he was talking about.

So he went to the chatterboxes and explained what was happening.

Well, you can guess what happens. The chatterboxes weren’t happy and did what they did best. They started talking incessantly to other students, and as you know, news can spread around a school faster than a plague.

The news was also backed up by older students who knew much more French and had also learned what Mademoiselle Chienne was muttering but didn’t bother doing anything because it was their final year in the school.

Within 2 days, Mademoiselle Chienne had become the most hated teacher in school.

As the higher-ups won’t do anything, the students took matters into their own hands. There was no physical violence, only getting back at her the same way as she got to the students.

It wasn’t long until students started coming up with rude sentences, phrases, and single words in French and started using them in her classes or when they passed her in the corridors, etc. Sentences when translated would be something like, “Good morning Mademoiselle Chienne.

How was your night last night with your many husbands?” She would hand out detentions to as many students as she could who spoke like that to her.

Students would knuckle down and learn in her lessons, but as soon as she muttered something rude about a student who got something wrong, most of the class would say those French words back at her.

She was shocked that students were talking to and about her like that. There were even school assemblies where the headmaster would tell the school that bullying teachers is not acceptable, only to be shot down by the school for hypocrisy.

When the school returned for second term, we found that Mademoiselle Chienne wasn’t there.

Her lessons had a substitute teacher. Then after half-term of the second-term period came round, Mademoiselle Chienne was completely replaced.

For years, no one knew what happened to her. Did she quit? Was she fired? Transferred? There were rumors that she returned to France.

Others that she moved to another school. No one could get an honest answer out of the administration, teachers, etc. All we knew was that she stayed for a third of the school year and then was gone.

#12
Grandma was a monster – let’s leave it at that. She was cruel, and sometimes violent, to our entire family and even her friends.

Grandma also happened to be the world’s worst driver. She would hit parked cars and drive off without leaving a note, litter out the window (very illegal here in California), and generally drive like a psycho.

Grandma REFUSED to see a doctor. She had a mortal fear of being institutionalized (for good reason). So when she had some physical problems, she wouldn’t get them treated. She was driving around with one hand and couldn’t really turn her head to look around either.

Mom set up grocery delivery, etc., but Grandma wouldn’t give up driving voluntarily.

Well… California has a law on the books that allows anyone to report a dangerous driver to the DMV and request a re-examination. It exists because so many people like me have relatives who are no longer physically and/or mentally fit to drive, and we may not be able to make them stop on their own.

(You can request to remain anonymous.)

I filled out the form and hoo boy, did I have a LOT of dirt on Grandma’s driving habits. I had to use extra pages. I made sure to tell them she was driving one-handed and couldn’t look around properly.

Sure enough, Grandma got a letter from the DMV. They insisted she takes the driver’s test again and required she receives a medical examination first.

I knew well Grandma wouldn’t see a doctor. And she didn’t.

Since she refused to comply with the DMV within the required time frame, they suspended her license.

(The suspension was indefinite, pending the medical exam and driver’s test. Since she refused both, her license was never reinstated.)

(Grandma planned to ignore the suspension, so Dad secretly disabled her car.)

Grandma eventually had to go to a care facility, and I would have to take Mom to visit her.

I would stand back, only speaking to Grandma when necessary, and sharing nothing personal. She craved attention (among other things, she was a narcissist), so I ignored her as much as possible.

By the way, I was Grandma’s favorite grandchild. I never did tell her that I was the reason she had her license suspended.

#13
One of my earliest jobs was working at a petrol/gas station.

It only sold fuel and oil. The reason people used it was much cheaper than others. In those days companies could deduct shortfalls in your takings from your pay. Each pump had a running meter showing the total gallons through the pump so at shift changeover the two attendants would take the readings together.

One particular shift at the time of the changeover the person, call them Pat, taking over volunteered to do the reading on their own. Me being very busy serving customers a trusting soul agreed to his offer. That week my pay was down quite a bit.

Now I love numbers so I thought I’d check where I was losing. I started taking note of the reading just before the changeovers. Then it happened again I was extremely busy and Pat again volunteered to take the numbers. When he came in, I checked and the readings on the sheet were significantly higher than the numbers I’d noted. I had also made a note of the sales so I could adjust the numbers.

The next time he tried it I told him I can’t afford to let him steal any more from me. A couple of weeks later he tried it again, I accused him of being a jerk. The next week was a disaster. The manager told us he was leaving.

He was an okay manager and told me who my new boss would be. I gave him my week’s notice there and then. I think you can guess who it was.

The next week was difficult. I did spoil his thunder when he told me on Monday I was sacked. It visibly annoyed him when I told him I’d resigned. I kept a close eye on my takings.

I did get one insult in calling him a jerk, depositing the day’s takings in the night safe at the same time every day. On Friday I finished I went into one of my local pubs in part to see if there was any work but also bemoan my fate and recount my tale.

Karma caught up with him. He was robbed as he was about to deposit the funds. I heard he’d resisted and had a head injury for his efforts. I also heard he was sacked from the company for theft or fraud.

#14
So I caught my ex going behind my back with someone I really hated because they were a jerk to my friend.

So one day I open MY laptop for the first time in a few months. She used this laptop while she lived here for a few months. It’s been 3 months maybe more so I decided to let it update and I needed to use it after to look some stuff up.

Then as we all know discord opens on the last chat you are in so, of course, it does so and the first message I see has I love u and hearts. So I don’t want to overreact so I decide I want context so I scroll back to see all these messages of her being dishonest with me and being ‘Hypothetical’ with him asking if we weren’t together and stuff like that.

As well as one time she said she knew he was asleep so she asked me if I wanted to call instead. The gem of the whole matter is when she said she would sleep with him on my birthday to make it ‘sting’.

She said that was from a song but that doesn’t make it excusable.

So I did what I thought was right I texted her best friend who was also a good friend of mine and asked if she knew that my ex was two-timing and she was surprised but didn’t spare one of the 21 screenshots that I had (That’s a lot but oh well I was heartbroken).

So my ex just lost her best friend who she talked to more than she talked to me. As well as told stuff to her she had no right knowing. So for some reason, I decided to stay with her for a few more days.

Then I was at work and we decided to call and I had to work up the courage for 45 mins before I asked if she wanted to call me because he didn’t want to call and told her I knew everything. She sounded confused but I hung up.

You can’t play me like a fiddle. I know what I saw. So I texted her brother right away to tell him that she likes to two-time people and sent him the screenshots and he called her out. So now it’s him and me vs his mom and sister.

I wasn’t done yet I messaged as many of her friends as I knew and told them what had happened.

So the next few days consisted of me getting texts from other friends that I promptly sent the screenshots to and they stopped talking to her.

Then her mom texted me which she said and I quote ‘My daughter isn’t big on second chances but I’m sure u knew that’ as if I wanted another chance. The texts that the ex sent me are nothing interesting tho but one bit she said was that she was helping him get a girl by letting him practice on her.

Although that’s not what I saw at all. Maybe it’s just me but I feel that’s something u should ask ur partner about so if they see it it wouldn’t be taken out of context. The best part? He doesn’t talk to her anymore so I hope it was worth her becoming single over.

#15
Forever and a day ago I worked at a lounge that was owned by a man named Jafar.

Jafar was a horrible boss and in many ways an awful person. Jafar loved to sit at the very front of the store with a group of his friends playing cards and drinking copious amounts of tea.

Note: Jafar doesn’t eat pork.

This group of people would often grow so large any other customer who wanted to come in had to scoot past them very carefully so as not to get burned by hot coals. Jafar made sure his group was catered to hand and foot before any other customer by snapping his fingers and demanding the attention of his workers.

However, Jafar never seemed to charge this group the complete amount on their tabs instead he pushed the charges onto other customers, specifically customers that had never been there before.

Though all of that doesn’t sound good it certainly is not terrible but that was all I was aware of for the longest time because even though Jafar was a chucklehead, the manager, Jordan, was an outstanding human.

Jordan would rush from one task to another completing it thoroughly and with a huge smile. Jordan would also take care of Jafar’s group and tell both myself and Ari, the other worker, to come to him if the group said or did anything foul to us.

Jordan was a lifesaver but then came the day he left.

Ari nor I learned that Jordan had left the lounge until we came in for work one night and Jafar was standing in the back wide-eyed and unsure of how to open his own business.

Thankfully Jordan had trained Ari and me extremely well so tactfully we pushed Jafar out of the backroom and got started. Occasionally Jarfar would wander into the back and bark orders at Ari and me which admittedly we ignored.

As the days passed Jafar’s true colors came to complete light.

For the sake of brevity here’s a shortlist of things Jafar began to do.

Under Jordan, Ari and I were given the cash and credit card tips any customers left. Suddenly no customers left tips ever.

Jafar told Ari and me that he was going through a rough patch and cut out $8/hr wage to $7.25/hr and then cut our hours so only himself and one of us would be working at the same time.

The group I mentioned above was now allowed to wander into the backroom whenever they wanted and make or take whatever they wanted. Often getting in Ari or I’s way.

If Ari or I would bring food or order food to be delivered to us and we left it unattended Jafar or one of his group would eat it.

As soon as things truly started to go downhill Ari and I made a pact that we would both start looking for new jobs and we would turn in our two-week notices the same day which in the end we did but before then Jafar needed to meet my petty side.

I got angry that my food was disappearing on the regular… Bacon became my best friend.

The first day I came in with a bacon, chicken, cheese casserole when Jafar told me it smelled good I just nodded. As usual, it disappeared. The next day and the day after and the following week I kept cooking and it kept disappearing.

Finally, when Ari told me he had found another job and we put in our two-week notices I ordered a pepperoni pizza.

When Jafar discovered I had ordered pepperoni he screamed at me that I was being disrespectful. I simply smiled and said but bacon and pepperoni make everything taste better!

I’ve made sure it was in everything I’ve made for months.

Last two weeks I worked there my food didn’t disappear once nor did Jafar more than glance at me.”

#16
This all happened 17 years ago (2004), at the time I was working as a support worker in a residential, home working 3 nights a week. I had a manager who (for her position) was really kind, let’s call her Kind Manager and my deputy Manager is Not So Kind Deputy.

Every time I worked at night, Not So Kind Deputy would come into the care home, and (at the time) I thought it was just a normal check for sleeping staff. But it should only be taking place once a few months (a huge red flag but no concern was raised).

Every single night I worked, Not So Kind Deputy would turn up at the home, go to the office and stay there for a few minutes before saying goodbye and leaving. So one night Not So Kind Deputy came three times in ONE night, giving me lame excuses, I forgot my passport, I forgot details for a form, I needed to pick up a document, and so on.

I let her in all three times still not suspicious or raising concern about any of it. The morning she came three times, I was called into the office just before the end of my shift, by the Kind Manager, and she asked me to unlock the safe where we kept the client details and cash.

I told her I didn’t know the code for it. In a stern voice, she instantly told me I was lying, I said I wasn’t and that same argument went back and forth. She then grabbed a paper showing me records of funds going missing every single time I did my night shift, I INSTANTLY knew who was taking the funds…

Kind Manager asked who else it could be and of course, I pointed out that every time I worked Not So Kind Deputy would come in and that in fact, she came up to three times earlier. She was instantly summoned to the office.

After being questioned she instantly broke down and admitted to being the thief and swore to return the funds. It was later found out that she was stealing to support her substance-dependence life and she got dropped from her position. Since then Kind Manager begged me not to file a complaint on false accusation as they had already built a case on me before even investigating what was really happening.

In the end, I didn’t file the complaint but I DID get to pick my shift times and days so it was a win-win situation.”