Karma is a cruel mistress, but oh is revenge a sweet thing to behold. These folks share the best revenge they’ve ever gotten on somebody.
His Finest Hour
“I worked at a radio station where the boss, the owner of the station, was one of the worst human beings I’ve ever met. He was petty, mean, cheap, vengeful, took pleasure in the discomfort of others… unfortunately you know the type. Of course, this led to the staff discussing ways to get back at him.
When I got the job everyone told me about the boss and their elaborate schemes to get even. I wasn’t there a week when someone gave me a tape of the guy who I replaced at the station. The boss would listen to the radio 24/7 and call in irate if you did anything wrong, so this guy, I’ll call him George, had his friend Jack go down the hall to the boss’s office and say, ‘Can I talk to you for a moment?’ The boss said sure, closed the door, and turned off his radio while Jack spouted some made-up grievance he had about George. Jack couldn’t even sit down in the boss’s office: other than the boss’s chair and desk the only other thing in the room was an enormous jade plant that the boss treated like it was his baby.
While Jack was telling the boss how bad George was, George went on the air and told the listening audience that he was quitting his job and it was because he had the worst boss known to man. He named his salary, gave a half-dozen incidents of the boss’s abuse and pettiness, then walked out the front door. When Jack finished his meeting with the boss, the boss turned his radio back on to dead air and George was nowhere to be found. It was a hilarious tape.
But MY revenge on the boss wasn’t nearly as satisfying. I was working the overnight shift and, alone in the studio, I discovered that the boss didn’t always lock his door, so would just sneak in and pee in his jade plant. Yeah, real mature stuff I know, but revenge is usually pretty childish anyway.
I finally came up with my own, more elaborate revenge. We were an all-news-and-talk station, and when you listened to us on the air there was the background of clattering teletypes that made us sound like an active newsroom with breaking news coming in constantly. The thing was, the teletype had been obsolete for probably 25 years at that point; we still got news from the wire services but it was relatively silent. The teletype clatter was actually a recording. It played on an endless loop, whenever the station’s newsroom microphone was activated.
Alone in the studio overnights, I took a screwdriver to the studio console and found the tape player. The tape was a relatively obsolete continuous loop cartridge that had approximately 65 minutes of teletype chatter. Like I said the technology was obsolete but we had the equipment in one of our production studios to deal with it . . .
And so, a couple of nights before my own last day, I extracted the tape cartridge. During this time we had a program from the network running, so no one listening would notice any absence of ambient sound, plus it gave me plenty of time to work.
I went to the production studio and put the tape cartridge into a recorder. From the sound effects library I found a ten-second soundbite of a toilet flushing, from the days before water-saving toilets. There was a very loud WHOOSH! and then it sounded like Niagara Falls. It was absolutely impossible to mistake or miss the sound. I carefully edited the flush into the 65-minute teletype loop, reinserted the cartridge into the player, and sealed up the console.
Here’s the beauty: that tape played only when the microphone was activated, so the sound effect didn’t trigger every 65 minutes. It went off maybe twice a day, at completely random times. And the guy on the air reading the news couldn’t even hear it because all the speakers and headphones are turned off when the mike is open, otherwise you get incredible feedback. So the only people who hear a toilet flushing are the listeners.
Like the boss in his office, who, I’m told, came charging like a mad bull wanting to know what the f*ck was going on. Of course no one in the studio had a clue, and the boss went back to his office thinking he was imagining things.
Until it happened again that evening when he was listening at home.
My friends at the station tell me that they didn’t figure out for days what had happened, with the boss just going nuts every time he heard a toilet flush on air.
Then one day I was tuning into the station and, lo and behold, no background teletype noise. Apparently, when the boss finally figured out what was causing the sound effects he yanked the cartridge out of the machine so vigorously he did major damage to it.
My finest hour.”
One Time At Summer Camp…
When I was a teenager, my family stayed at a campground for the summer. There were a bunch of kids that hung out, about 15 of us, and it was almost a 50/50 split between boys and girls (which lead to some very eye opening and ‘pleasing’ summers) but I digress. So .. average age of the guys were 15, we were full of testosterone, and while the kids were running around swimming and trying not to get caught doing anything else, the adults were partying. I mean, just getting ripped. A couple of guys that were there would get absolutely hammered, and mess with us kids. Not in a hurtful way, but ballbusting type stuff.
So, we’d sling insults back and forth … and then one day it escalated. I can’t remember exactly, but I want to say they threw eggs at one of us. Ohhh … did I forget to say that these two guys, each weighed about 400 lbs? It was all gut, literally. These guys drank like fishes their entire lives (one passed away way before he was 40). So, when you’re that big, and immobile … throwing eggs at kids that play baseball almost year round … not a good idea. So we got them back. Anyways, little revenge pranks go back and forth like this for a few weeks, until we dropped the proverbial prank hammer on them. So, even though we were in our younger teens, one of our friends looked like he was 20. So, we agreed that we would buy an adult homoerotic magazine.
So, a bunch of 15-year-old kids, huddled around a table trying not to look at all the dongs layed out in the magazine in front of us … needless to say, there was a lot of awkward laughing. We eventually cut out all the pictures, and we had about 40 (I’m guessing, don’t remember the exact number) So as these two guys were passed out from the various cans of brews, we broke in through their porch. They had the door locked, but they had screens on the outside windows, so we lifted the staples out and two of us climbed in and proceeded to tiptoe around and tape up these dude pictures everywhere. On the walls, the TV, in one of the bedrooms, taped behind milk cartons, on the case of Bud. Literally everywhere.
This was done on purpose of course, because, while we wanted them to see the obvious ones, we wanted them two weeks from that point to reach for something or look for something and look up … and WHAMMY, Rock hard Johnson right in their face. So, we stayed up all night to wait for their reaction. And of course it was priceless … First, you hear the morning fart, the groans and stretching as they both start moving around. The stumbling, hung over the half dead walk of two 400 lb men. Then (names changed) ‘Bob … HOLY COW, THERE’S HUNG DUDES EVERYWHERE!?!?’
A plethora of swear words, you hear the paper being ripped off, more swear words. Now … these are just the visible ones. I heard the fridge open, heard one of them grab something .. then I hear ‘Steve … it looks like you’re chugging that guys Johnson! HA HA HA’ (An extreme close up picture of a shlong was taped onto the milk carton’.
They actually found pictures for another week or so. But the crowning achievement was when they had a bunch of family over (parents and friends) and as ‘Bob’ lifted the grill cover to get it started, an 8×11 picture of a gigantic dude holding his junk like Thor’s hammer floated out into the air. It moved around a little before finally settling on the picnic table. Smack dab in front of all the family and friends in attendance. It was epic. So, that’s my greatest revenge story I guess.”
“When I was 6 I lived on the street with six other kids that I became friends with. Every day we’d do our routine going-to-the-shop-to-buy-candies and what not. There was a fat kid called Carbs who was around 9 and used to bully the heck out of us. We had to walk past his place on the way to the shop and he’ll always ambush us on the way back; take our stuff, punch one or two of us in the gut, then eat our candy infront of us. Just a real prick of a kid.
His parents were moronic enablers who figured, ‘Hey, survival of the fittest’ they shouted and just laughed. One Easter my mother was making homemade chocolates and my friends were waiting for the epic deliciousness that is soft centered chocolates to unfold when I had an idea. I had a pet Husky called Wolfie. I stole a little molten chocolate, covered some bite sized turds in it, let them set and then wrapped them in coloured cellophane.
We then paraded down the street and made as much noise as possible trying to lure out Carbs. He took the bait. We faked being upset and handed over our chocolates. he unwrapped the first one, at it whole, then stuffed a second one in his mouth and was making ‘mmmm yummy’ gestures until he realised…. his face went from ecstasy to the queasiest shade of green I’ve ever seen before. Then he doubled over, hurled all over the place and bawled his eyes out as we laughed and pointed (in no particular order). I then kicked him in the nuts. he didn’t come out much after that.”
Don’t Mess With This Dad
“Back when I was a wee kid, we lived across from a popular public pool in a tiny street so parking was premium. We sometimes had issues with people parking across our driveway, but we were pretty chummy with the pool owner and would just get him to put the message out over the loudspeakers and the people would come over, apologize and move their car.
However, one afternoon coming home from school this person had the audacity to park IN our driveway, IN our garage… My dad was dumbfounded. We went over and put the message out as per usual and this woman in her 30s came over in a huff and said she would fix it when she had finished her exercise routine. So my dad just parked behind her and we went out for dinner for four hours or so.
She was ticked off, but the story does not end there. She kept doing it. Usually two to four times a month. Eventually my Dad would not think twice about parking her in and letting her out at his own leisure. No problem for us, lots of problems for her. She once called the police on us, to which they just told her to not park on private property and wrote her a citation.
But wait, there’s more. One Saturday morning she had the gall to park us in our own driveway. Dad had had enough. He made sure she was doing her laps, grabbed a coat hanger, jimmied the car open, and dismantled the passenger seat. Taking it out and leaving it on the curb in front of the pool exit.
He then sat on our front deck, sipping his tea as she came out of the pool to get her car. She walked past the passenger seat without a second glance and scowled at him as she opened her car and got in. She then did a double take as she went to put her bag on the seat. She freaked out, realizing that my Dad had had access to her car and belongings this entire time and done nothing about it until now. She ran over, grabbed her seat, put it in the boot and drove off. Never heard from her again.”
That’s Why They’re Called Jarheads
“This happened a while ago. A little bit of background, but my then-girlfriend hooked up with this ex marine guy who was a total hothead. He got kicked out because he punched his CO in the face. Rea smart of her to get involved in but what am I gonna do. I had to deal with him all the time, calling her, freaking her out, showing up at her house at 3 am and sitting for a few hours then leaving. The kid was absolutely nuts. What made it bad for me was that he was 24. I was 17 at the time. I’m pretty strong for my age, but I’m not gonna kid myself. There was nothing I could do against someone of his physique. He was my height and outweighed me by probably 40 pounds. On Halloween of last year, he showed up when my girlfriend and I were having a fight, about him funny enough. He rolled into the parking lot, no idea how he found us, but whatever. He got out of his car and stormed towards us. She walked over to him and told him to leave. I yell at him to get the heck out, and roll up my sleeves, ready for a rumble, and he saw this as a threat.
He puffs up and yells ‘Come at me you runt’
I thought for a second. I had had enough of this guy. It had been a year, he had been tormenting her and I. So I walked over toward him and he started getting all ready for some real Hulk smash nonsense to go down. I walked right past him, over to his car, opened up the driver door, and asked him to get in. He looked at me like I just asked him nicely to do something, and overcome with neanderthal rage, he ran full speed at me. I was absolutely scared, and at the last second, moved out of the way, pushing the door closed. He smashed face first into the window and did a number on the side of the car.
His face was really messed up, and I didn’t know whether or not he was conscious. Never having got into a physical altercation before, I was really disturbed by this and so didn’t know how to act. I looked at him, and did the first thing that came into my head. I spanked him over and over and said, leave me the heck alone, spanking him on each word. My girlfriend stopped me and I stood up.
I looked at her and said ‘You wanna have his children (they had unprotected hanky panky), then you deal with his childish antics. I’m absolutely done with both of you.’
Got in my car, and drove the speed limit out of there, freed of all of my baggage, and heart beating like a drum.”
Operation Butter Up
“I made a girl fat… and not by marrying her. In 2003, my office got a new secretary and a new manager. The secretary, a thin blonde, was a vile she-devil, she wouldn’t do anything the staff asked (find info, set up calls, get coffee for anyone who wasn’t herself) and the manager wouldn’t do anything about it. We joked that her job title was “Internet Quality Control” because she more-or-less sent personal emails and played on myspace all day, to which when she overheard, literally went to the manager in tears.
Then one day I got a rather large jar of candy as a gift and she just about single-handedly consumed half of it, which ticked me off good. Then later that week, I brought in a dozen donuts and she ate half of them on her own. Upon putting the facts together, our web designer, editor, and I decided to fuel the fire in something we called Operation: Butter Up where we each in turn brought in a large bag of candy to fill up my jar as fast as she could empty it.
In the course of three months, she put on 20 pounds. In a year’s time, she was unrecognizable and along with being a crank, she was an idiot and couldn’t figure out how. Several times a week we provided her sweets and snacks of every kind until her boyfriend dumped her, which was about eight months into the project, and she had to get a new wardrobe.
We lucked out because she was rather stupid, but we had more diabolical measures lined up if she stopped eating the candy, along the lines of mixing in weight-gainer to the non-dairy creamer she was using and things of that nature.
That was 2003 and she’s still big to this day, saw her on Facebook and smiled at our handiwork. Still single to this day, and I would like to think that we had something to do with it.”
Fed Up On Facebook
“My wife hijacked (not hacked) my Facebook when I left myself logged in. She posted a bunch of ‘I love Justin Beiber’ pictures and stuff. The next time she left her Facebook logged in, I left her a subtle message not to mess with me.
Of course, she comes across my computer still logged in, and decides to have a little more fun. Posts something else about how I supposedly have a strong affection for the ‘Biebs. Bad move.
The next day I found her account still logged in. I changed her relationship status to ‘single’. I changed her employment to a dancer at a well-known local night club. I posted a photo of Chris Brown, along with the caption ‘Chris Brown is so hot’ I changed her ‘interests’ to show her being interested in ‘women’ and looking for a relationship.
I then ‘liked’ several swinger groups. I made several other devious alterations to her profile and then changed her language preference to German to delay her ability to reverse the changes I made.
Very interesting to see the number of co-workers and lesbians that suddenly came out of the woodwork and hit on my wife. Not to mention the messages asking ‘what happened?’ and ‘are you guys okay?’.
The angry phone call I received while at work was amazing. She cursed me for what I did followed by her admission that she deserved it and it was beyond escalation. She proposed a truce, which I accepted, and I walked into my office the next day a hero (since everyone followed the ‘feud’).”
What A Prank
“I’ve grown up with the same group of three guys since 2nd grade (we’re all 19-20 now). Well, back in middle school one of the guys, lets call him Andre because that’s his name, did something to tick me off (I can’t remember what, I just know it was something petty that I made a big deal about). I storm off and in my dramatic, prepubescent voice, I declare, ‘One week! In one week we’ll meet again, and you’ll rue the day you crossed me!’
So I go home and get on MySpace (because that’s what was cool at the time), and a brilliant idea hit me. I made a new account, Alicia SomethingOrOther, and uploaded some pictures of various girls that looked similar enough. I spent a day or two adding enough friends and making the account looking legitimate. I eventually added him and sent him a message saying I was new to town and saw we were going to the same school. We spent another two or three days swapping messages, getting more and more intimate, and finally set up a meet up date downtown at a restaurant. I send him some pictures of some girl online and tell him to ‘bring a Trojan.’ I could just imagine the look on his face. Yesss. Perfect.
Fast forward to the weekend, I called my youth pastor and ask him to help me with a prank. I have him meet me down the street from where the fake girl was supposed to meet my friend and have him dress up in a trench coat and sunglasses, pedo’d out to the max.
I walk on ahead and bumb into Andre and ask him what he’s upto – ‘Oh you know, just hangin out’ blah blah blah, when my youth pastor/stand-in pedo walks up to us and ask him in a deep, suspicious voice, ‘Hey, are you Andre?’ My friend automatically tenses up, and makes up some lies about being someone else and hanging out with his father, who was just around the corner and was on his way out. Stand-in pedo gets angry and says, ‘I know you’re Andre. Come on, Alicia’s in the car. We’ve got to go.’
Andre loses his mind. I’ve never seen anyone so scared. I could see the images of being tied up in a basement flashing in his brain. Just as he’s about to take off running, me and my youth pastor burst out laughing and tell him what was going on. One of the highlights of our friendship, and we still laugh about it (though he vehemently denies being scared and knowing it was me the entire time).”
A Memorable Day For The Whole Family
“When I was about 13-years-old, my family had saved up to take us to Six Flags Over Georgia. It’s about a two-hour drive away from our house, so we left early to get there as soon as it opened so we wouldn’t have to fight any crowds at the gate. As we pull into the parking lot, we find a decent parking spot in an area that’s already packed. As we start to pull into the spot, a car of four 20-something-year-olds, cut us off and take the spot.
‘Okay, whatever!’ we think. Life happens. But no. To add injury to insult the driver then gets out and yells ‘What the heck you gonna do about it OLD MAN?’ and points at us but more directed towards my poor dad.
His buddies all have a good laugh and head to the gate. I can tell my dad is steamed but he keeps his mouth shut. We find another spot and as we are heading to the gate, my dad says he’ll be back and walks off. Fast forward to the end of the day. The park is closed and we are the last group of people leaving the park. We hopped in the car and lo and behold, as we are leaving the parking lot, we see the same car with four flat tires, and four ticked-off guys just sitting there. My dad drives by them and without missing a beat, rolls down the window and yells ‘What the heck are you gonna do about it PRICK?’ as we drive off into the sunset. That’s my dad for ya.”