People Share The Time They Got Revenge On Their Nasty Roommate

The thought of having a roommate or two seems nice. With roomies, you’ll no longer have to cover rent on your own. Additionally, having a roomie or few also means having a greater sense of security and pretty much always having someone to talk to, to help you conquer your loneliness. With this in mind, you might be thinking, “What could go wrong?” Well, a lot, actually.

Let’s just say that some roommates can be complete morons, legit narcissists by textbook definition, or just straight-up jerks. You might just get unlucky and end up with someone, even if they were originally a close friend, who ends up stealing from you, keeping you up late at night before an important day, refusing to pay their fair share of the bills, or even trying to murder you. (Yes, really.) Many people are great, but sometimes it’s not until you live with them that their flaws begin to transpire, and you quickly begin to realize that living with them would be much harder than covering rent on your lonesome.

If you’ve ever had a bad roommate, I dedicate the following roommate revenge stories to you. Seriously, roommates can suck, but below, people get the last laugh as they get back at their God awful roomie.

15. You Can Eat Habaneros Like Apples? Let’s Test That Theory

“About 7 years ago, I rented a bedroom in a large shared apartment with strangers. The landlady didn’t seem to care about the camaraderie of the tenants, but rather, that she was just making money. (Shocking, I know.)

Fast forward a few months of comfortable living, and we get a new roommate, and from the moment I met him, I knew he was a piece of work. This guy never did any tidying around the house; he’d hoard my dishes in his room for WEEKS on end and would refuse to give them back; he’d smoke in his room; and in the mornings, he’d have a coughing fit in the bathroom for half an hour, EVERY.

******.* Day. The bathroom was next to my bedroom, so I had the misfortune of hearing it loud and clear. He threw up once in the sink after a night of drinking (oh yeah, real tough guy) and never cleaned it up. He’d leave his bedroom window open in the middle of winter, which caused FREEZING cold air to fill the apartment. I may have slept through it had the freezing air not frozen my ******* into a nip cube. He’d steal our groceries from the cupboard and fridge and outright deny it. He’d barely bathe, so he smelled bad, and when he did, he’d use our items in the shower. And perhaps the worst part, he spewed SO much ******** that his breath literally smelled like ***,* like, picked up a turd and savored it.

One night, I’m relaxing in the living room and watching some restaurant show, and the chef was pureeing habanero peppers while wearing a protective head to toe suit. This putrid human that I share a residence with came in, sat down, and was all puffed up, “That guy’s a ****.* I can eat those things like apples, no problem.”

Oh, really, you can, can you? I mentioned that they’re well over 100 times hotter than a jalapeno, so he scoffs at me and reassures me over and over that he can and that he does it all the time. This was the millionth piece of ******** I’d been served, and I was done with it.

As luck would have it, a couple of days later while shopping at a farmers’ market, I came across a vendor, yup, selling habaneros.

The table began to glow and birds sang in harmony as a revenge plot came to fruition. I bought a handful, took them home, and patiently waited until butt nut opened his face again to sing his final words of ******** before being served with a slice of extremely spicy humble pie.

I gave one to him and told him I saw them and knew he liked them SO much, so I couldn’t resist doing something nice. The look of terror in his eyes would’ve been enough to soothe my itch for revenge; however, he wasn’t going to go down without a fight. I’ll give him an ounce of credit; he’s got more balls than brains. So, he ate it, the whole thing in one bite… chomping, chewing, sweating, crying…

For the next 45 minutes, he cried under the kitchen tap with water pouring over his face.

I asked him if he was done ************ me and the housemates, and through his cries, he mumbled the most honest, “Mhmm” I’ve ever heard. Ahh, peace, at last.” GingerExpress88

14. Steal $200 Worth Of Food From Me? I’ll Pee All Over Your New Place

“A bit of back story. I’m a twenty-four-year-old female and she’s twenty-three. We’ll call her Estelle because that was her name, and **** her.

We lived together for two years. I wouldn’t say we were friends really, but we had a few laughs, and she was ok.

Anyway, Estelle found a new house she wanted to move into. It was closer to the Melbourne CBD than our flat. (Our flat is about 7.5 miles away.) She was entirely entitled to leave, and I didn’t mind really.

I’d just get a new roomie.

So, a few weeks later, Estelle was packed and good to go. On this particular day, she was an hour away from leaving to go to her new house or so she said. We said our relatively awkward but sweet goodbyes, and then I left to go to the shops.

I assumed by the time I got back she’d be gone. I spent more than an hour getting heaps of **** now that my flat was just mine. I also got a TON of food.

Anyway, I got back, and Estelle was still there. I didn’t care; although, it was awkward because we’d said goodbye, and I thought she’d be gone.

I unpacked all the food and put it away and then took a shower.

She told me when I got out, she’d be gone.

When I got out Estelle was, indeed, gone. I went to go make a hot drink and realized the tea bags were out. After I realized I’d bought new ones, I went to hunt them down. All the cupboards were completely empty though.

Oh my God. That ***** took all my food that I bought with my money. And I mean all my food, not just the new stuff. All of it.

I knew Estelle’s new house had to be on our computer’s history; that was where she found it. After rummaging through it for close to fifteen minutes, I found the address to her new house. I got dressed and headed off to it.

When I arrived, her car was there. **** it. I’d wait it out. I hid behind a tree, and I knew it was a huge risk; she could easily not leave all night.

And after an hour, I knew that would be the case. I sadly began to crawl away from my hiding place, but then I heard something. The shower was on! Estelle was having a shower! I had been crouching under the bathroom window, so I could hear it.

When I was certain she wasn’t getting out or whatever, I tried the front door. It was unlocked, and I was thrilled.

The house was a lot nicer than my flat. I was jealous and also mad because she stole my food, and who the **** steals food?

I was wearing a skirt, and I took off my underwear.

I proceeded to run around the house with them in my hand trying to find somewhere to pee. It was the only form of revenge I could think of, okay?

So, I elected for her bedroom. Basically, nothing was unpacked, but the carpet was a beautiful, creamy white color. I p*ssed all over it while laughing shamelessly to myself. I hadn’t peed in forever, so I literally was able to then walk around, my underwear in hand, p*ssing all over the carpet. It felt good.

I finished, put my underwear back on, stole my teabags back, and drove home.

**** Estelle. I spent like two hundred dollars on all that food.” talnarni

 

13. Entitled Roommates Refused To Pay His Fair Share, So I Left Them In The Dark, Figuratively And Literally

“I lived with a roommate who was a complete and total narcissist.

It was a $1,500-a-month apartment (three-bedroom in a nice part of town) that should have been $500 a person, but he was a lazy **** and maybe contributed about $150 of that. His dumb tw*t girlfriend wasn’t much better, contributing about the same amount per month, but she was at least more pleasant to talk to.

I lived with them for about six months and paid the $1,200 I was paying to cover the rent because I didn’t want my credit to take the hit that would result from an eviction.

The whole time, they were going out to eat and wining and dining each other; meanwhile, I never could do anything because I was burning up all my cash just trying to cover the rent.

Of course, I would talk to the dude to say, “Man, this can’t continue. It’s stressing me the **** out. I can’t afford to buy food most of the time,” but since he was a piece of **** narcissist, he would turn the argument around to somehow make it about how ungrateful a person I was.

The end finally came when I spoke with the leasing office people and explained that while I loved the apartment, I was the only one who was really giving the property managers any real money, and the situation was untenable. I also said I would love to continue doing business with them (possibly with a smaller apartment), but I was locked into my lease and couldn’t afford to pay an early termination fee because these ********* I* lived with were sucking me dry.

They looked up the paperwork and said, “Well, it looks like only [piece of ***] filled out lease paperwork, so you have no legal obligation to pay the rent.”

“Is that so?” I responded. I thought for a few moments and then said to the agent, “You should probably get eviction paperwork ready for next month. I have no intention of continuing to fund their lavish lifestyle. What other units do you have?”

I went back to the apartment and began packing. One day, they came home to see that my bedroom was empty and my car was gone. They started packing like crazy for three days, having to throw a lot of it away because they were going to get locked out before they could get it all.

On the second day, the power was turned off, because it was in my name at the old apartment, and now that I had my own place, I wasn’t about to pay for the power in two different places. So, they had to frantically pack in the sweltering July heat in total darkness.

*** those people.” MyNutsin1080p

12. Be A Cheater? Retake The Class, And Start Paying All Our Bills

“This story takes place a couple of years back. During college, I lived with several roommates. All of them were nice, and we got along… Well, except for this one ****. Let’s call her Karen.

She is a loud-mouthed, stupid, egocentric **** who has a face that could scare the *** out of a toilet.

She would never clean up after herself. She would always leave her plates and things at the spot where she last used them. I have lost count of how many times I caught her stealing my clothes without asking. Yet, if you touch her clothes, she loses her *** on you. She would drink our lactose-intolerant roommate’s almond milk, and any time we confronted her for drinking it, she would shrug and say, “I only had a sip. Stop being so stingy.” She plays her music loud at night, invites strangers without giving any heads up, a time or two she didn’t pay rent even though her parents are FILTHY RICH and she even wears luxury Gucci shoes and Prada ***, and Karen also ****** lies about everything even things that are not worth lying about.

Like, if she woke up 7, and you ask her, she’ll lie through her ****** teeth and say she rose with the sunrise because she is a natural. (P.S., this is something I actually heard her say to her parents while she was Skyping them…. So cringy. Who the *** says that? But I digress.)

Months we have ****** put up with her, and of course, we tried to get other roommates, but, unfortunately, when we all moved in everything, all documents and contracts were done in her name, so kicking her out would require a lot of effort, and most of us were busy with school and work, and life happens. So, we ignore it as much as we can and try to move on.

We were now all seniors and in our final semesters, meaning graduation was coming, AND Karen is planning a backpacking trip across Europe with her friends as a graduation gift to herself. This is important, so remember this.

One of our roommates and my closest friend, Sasha, has had a crush on a guy that lives down the hall. Any time the two of them are together, Sasha and the guy keep giving each other googly eyes and blushing faces; it was sooo cute. Sasha is a verbally autistic person and has never dated anyone because she has a hard time with socializing and understanding social cues and subtlety, which let’s face it, that is the core of dating, especially flirting. But with a lot of encouragement from me and the final roommate, Lola, we got her to ask him out.

He said yes. She was so happy, you guys. She flew back into the apartment and did an hour of happy dance with her arms flailing about and a *** eating grin on her face. Needless to say, we were all so happy.

Karen caught wind of this, and it just so happens that at that time, she was having relationship problems. I guess her boyfriend finally realized he was dating human garbage. Not one to be outshined, Karen behind all of our backs went to the guy’s place and spun lies about Sasha, saying she is a serial cheater and even made a fake account for Sasha’s so-called boyfriend. The guy never called Sasha, and eventually, weeks passed by, and he told us why, but by then, Sasha felt like the damage was done and lost interest in him.

I. WAS. ******. FURIOUS.

This level of d*ckery and ****** pettiness is the straw that finally broke the camel’s back, and I vowed I wouldn’t ****** leave until I served my slice of justice.

Here’s another character that you must know about: Professor C. His wife two years ago was in a horrible car accident, and as a result, is now in a wheelchair. This is especially problematic because she was a stay-at-home mom who took care of their two special needs kids, and they have a toddler at home. Homelife is a mess for him. He is running ragged between working and single-handedly is taking care of his family.

The uni took pity and also feared the workload would cause one of their best and most beloved teachers to leave, so the school struck a deal with him to help him out.

In all of his classes, there would be quizzes and midterms; this doesn’t change, but assignments you submit, he corrects at the end of the year. This is important because our uni normally has zero-tolerance on professors who don’t constantly update the students’ course works so that students have the chance to improve their grades.

Karen, the lazy and stupid **** she is, is somehow skating through his assignments, even though they require a *** ton of research and writing. I accidentally learned that one of her older friends told her that she only needs to submit the paper on its due date and only write the first 3 pages and use a paraphrasing tool for the rest of the paper, so the plagiarism software won’t detect it and would think its original material, and when the end of the year comes, she’d submit a hard copy but with the first pages being her actual work and the rest being completely plagiarized, professional work.

Professor C. wouldn’t know because the likelihood a man as busy as him would be thoroughly checking the work of 120+ students is pretty low.

I grinned. A plan was beginning to formulate in my head. She is going down! All semester-long, I let her do this for all of the 7 papers, one of them which is a term paper that has 20% on it alone. All the while, I spied and gathered all of her passcodes, social media, her student ID, everything.

The end of the year came, and I compiled all of her assignments, both the original one with the paraphrasing tools she used to circumvent plagiarism and the one she finally handed them in, and I even made photos where there is a side-to-side comparison of the assignments.

This is a good start but not enough.

So, one day chilling at the living room, I open a conversation about relationships, and Karen is two-timing her new boyfriend and is sleeping with some other person. So, I ask her questions like, “Don’t you feel guilty for cheating?” and “You do realize this is wrong?” and I even paraphrase my words in a way that is vague but also clear. For example, I would say, “It’s not fair. So many people work so hard every day to be successful, and you are here cheating and lying your way to success.”

Karen, narcissistic as ***, would respond with snippets of, “I don’t care” and how she isn’t cheating and that she is only having fun and that everyone does it so why not her too.

This is too good to be true. Even her answers are vague. It’s like God put his hand on my shoulder, looked me right in the eyes, and said, “Bury this ****,” and I’d be d*mned if I didn’t.

As you probably have guessed it by now, I was recording EVERYTHING. The recording plus the photos and with her assignments were more than enough evidence, I sent an anonymous email to the professor, and I tell the girls so that they can prep for the *** storm that’s coming.

Three weeks later, the results are out. She failed and LOST HER ***. She was screaming, crying, wailing, what a sight to see! You best believe the girls and I were laughing. She tried to talk to the prof, but he was not having it.

She cried and begged for a second chance, but he said a hard no. So, now she has two options: she goes ahead and doesn’t graduate with us and takes on a whole other semester for one measly course, or she has to take a summer course and cancel her trip to Europe, which, mind you, she spent a f*ckton on, something like $13,000, and I know it could have been much cheaper, but Princess Karen only wanted the best.

The next couple of weeks, she had sleepless nights because she was calling and canceling all the reservations she made, trying to get her money back, BUT (again, God really was out for ***** that day) because the cancellation was so close to some her trip most places refused to refund, or some charged her cancellation fees.

She only managed to scrap $5,500 back together, losing $7,500. OUCH!

But it’s not over. Having d*mning evidence, I, with earned gusto, told her she was going to pay all of the bills until we moved out, which was in two months. This was payback for all the times she was late on a payment or defaulted, and she would, from now on do her part of the house chores or else I’m going to send it all to the admin and faculty dean, and she will for sure be kicked out, and all those uni years will have been for nothing.

She hated it; she ****** threw tantrums and cussed me out, but my God, if she didn’t do what she was told… She cleaned her stuff, apologized to Sasha for what she did, I forced her to come clean to her boyfriend (I don’t know the guy, but the few times I met him, he was super sweet to us, and I felt bad for him), and I watched her actually do the dishes for the first time in like years.

It was ****** amazing, and I don’t regret it one bit. In fact, anytime I feel sad now as an adult, I kick back my feet and reminiscence, and a slow sh*t-eating grin draws itself upon my face.” let-the-write-one-in

11. Steal My Money? I’ll Catfish You Into An Arrest

I just can’t believe the guy fell for it. Idiot.

“I was a junior in college, living with a scuba roommate. (She was a scuba instructor in the offseason.) The other two girls who were supposed to live with us never showed up, so we had a beautiful semester living in a 2 bedroom townhouse (meant for 4 people). We got along very well.

The second semester starts, and we get a new roomie, Dee. So, Dee is dating (whom Scuba and I call Mr.

Burns. He did NOT attend the college, nor any college.). This guy is the biggest d-bag that I have ever met. He was openly dating 4 girls. He hid nothing from any of the girls. He had no job, no car, no life. Dee gave him a place to stay and the use of her car and the other girls gave him money if he needed.

It’s about 2 weeks in, and Dee calls for a meeting. Apparently, Scuba and I were making Mr. Burns uncomfortable with our ****** tension, and he requested that we either “got over him or hooked up with him.” In truth, he was disgusting. We were both highly repulsed by him and told her as such. (Scuba was dating a lovely boy to whom she was engaged.

I was single, but standards are still standards.)

Fast forward to the end of the semester, I have my housing deposit for next year ready (cash in my room in my desk drawer with the paperwork). It comes up missing (all except $100, which is the downfall of Mr. Burns).

I call campus security. They come and investigate and take the $100 bill back for fingerprints. (It’s BRAND new; this is the best part.) They fingerprint me as well. Turns out, only 3 sets of prints were on the bill… Mine, the teller’s, and his. The security gets his info and informs me that the moment I see him, call security from a safe place and get the *** out.

He had some prior arrests for violence.

I do as I’m told. They pick him up and take him in. He confesses almost immediately. (The officer was laughing his a** off when he told me.) Then Mr. Burns turns around and says that I stole a BUNCH of Dee’s CDs. I tell the officer that her music sucks and definitely did NOT take them. Later, he confesses to stealing and selling them at a pawn shop. He’s now banned from the college, and if I see him around, I am to call campus security.

I did NOT get my money back, so I was out $400, which was a lot for me at the time.

Dee continues living with me but now hates me and blames me because Mr. Burns dumped her.

(He still calls her to ask for money and other stuff, which she gladly gives him.)

She makes my life **** for the next month until her lease is up, all thanks to Burns. (He borderline stalked me at this point and even went into my workplace, followed me around off-campus… Just a wonderful person.)

It’s now summer, and I’m on Yahoo messenger (no photo, just, “Hey, I go to X college, looking for people that like to go to music shows.”). He messages me. He DOES have a photo. I give him my “photo” eventually (totally not me). I string him along, nervous ’cause “I’ve never done this before.” All he wants is a dirty hook-up.

Eventually, I agree, under ONE condition… That it can happen late (around 1 AM and that he show up in boxers and I’d take care of him).

I give him my address… which happened to be the address of the 4 guys who are on the lacrosse team. He shows up, as promised. They did NOT take it kindly. He went back to his car. Lo and behold, security is there. I watch as he’s carted away in his underoos for violating his terms.” jessdb19

10. Mean Roommate Has To Pay Double For Her Dorm

“This isn’t my story but my younger sister’s.

My younger sister is a second-year in college and lives on campus and wound up with an awful roommate. Her roommate is a 6th-year student, is nearly 6 years older than my sister, and thinks because she’s older than my sister that she can boss my sister around.

I’ll refer to her roommate as RM from now on.

Some of the crappy things this woman has done to my sister are: leaving passive-aggressive notes for various reasons, sleeping with a fan on which prevents her from sleeping, leaving her shoes near the door, etc. She brought a random male friend (not a boyfriend or one-night stand) to their suite (they share a common room and kitchen area with 4 girls; two have their own private room, and the other two share a room) without asking the other girls if it was okay to do so.

Also, RM’s sister stayed overnight in their room for three WEEKS when students can’t have visitors stay more than three consecutive nights (RM’s sister is also a student there but doesn’t live on campus) without my sister’s permission.

And RM tends to do her homework in the middle of the night with the lights on and music playing from her phone or laptop, keeping my sister awake. And, lastly, RM has woken my sister up by having loud sex with her girlfriend in the middle of the night. RM would also completely ignore my sister and the other 2 girls in the suite.

My sister had tried complaining to the resident assistants on her floor and basically got the, “Well, you should try discussing this with your roommate” answer, so my sister tried to grin and bear it… until it started affecting her physical and mental health.

My sister runs cross country and track for her school, and since her college doesn’t have an indoor track, there are some mornings she has to leave campus at 5 am to get to her 6 am practice at another college about 45 minutes away from her school.

And not being able to sleep has really put a damper on her times and has even led to my sister sustaining a few significant stress injuries, causing her to miss all but 2 cross country meets.

The night RM moved back into her room for the 2020 spring term, she woke my sister up at 1 am by talking loudly on her phone while watching Netflix on her laptop without headphones. Then four hours later, RM had the nerve to scream and swear at my sister because she accidentally dropped her metal water bottle while getting ready for her 6 am track practice, and it woke RM up an hour after she went to bed.

My sister decided to go to the resident supervisor with her complaints later that day.

The minute the supervisor heard who my sister’s roommate was, he apologized profusely. Turns out, this woman has been a problem in the past. He told my sister that because she was a student-athlete, he would make an exception and get her moved to another room, even though the deadline for room changes had been a week prior to her complaint. However, because my sister is a late applicant for a room change, she has to wait a few more days until she’s able to move out, so she had to come back home to sleep. (Thankfully, we only live about an hour away from her college.)

And here’s where the revenge comes in.

The room my sister and RM are in costs $8,000 per year, with each resident paying $4,000.

Normally, if someone in a double room is granted a room change, the college will place another student in that room, so the remaining person doesn’t have to foot the entire $8,000 bill. Since my sister’s request was granted after the room reassignment deadline, the college wouldn’t be able to place another student in the room, and normally in that circumstance, the remaining student wouldn’t have to pay the full $8,000.

HOWEVER, my sister is claiming that RM violated their room contract (all roommates are required to draw up a contract with room rules, boundaries, etc. and submit it to the resident supervisor at the beginning of the year, something RM refused to do with my sister), and the college accepted that as her reasoning for changing rooms, so RM will be charged the full $8,000 for the room.

My sister had the option to sign a waiver that would prevent her $4,000 room charge from being passed to her roommate; however, since RM often complained about “spending $4,000 on the room only to be forced to share it with some privileged, white, city ****,” my sister refused to sign the waiver.

The college will also be investigating RM since there have been numerous other complaints about her in the past, and she’s considered an “older student” at 25, and there’s a possibility she could be kicked out of the dorms within the next few weeks. But regardless of what happens, RM will be stuck having to pay an $8,000 room-and-board fee because she couldn’t be a decent roommate.” Scarlet-absol13

9. I Finally Had The Courage To Cut Off My Psycho Friend

This girl is bonkers.

“This took place between 1995 and 2002.

Everyone has had a bad friend or two, but I had an especially bad friend. If it hadn’t happened to me, I would never have known that this strange mental disorder was real or that people could behave this way outside of Lifetime Channel movies.

I grew up in Northern Indiana. I went to a large high school in the mid-90s, and my senior year, I met another student named Hannah who had recently transferred from the main, local Catholic high school in the area. It was unusual to transition so late from a private to public school.

Hannah said she had been expelled because of a fight with another student over some drama about a boy. She said the other girl had made allegations against her and accused her of attacking her.

Whatever had happened, the police had been contacted, and she had a restraining order placed on her by the other girl. It had forced her expulsion, and that was how I came to meet her. Hannah said none of it was true. She said she never tried to hurt her.

Later, I went to college in Indiana; she went to college in Florida. One day, a friend of mine from the dorms ran into a guy she had known from Catholic school back in my hometown. Once he left, she told me about this incident that had happened to him where these two girls were fighting over him about which one was his girlfriend. Neither one of them was dating him, and yet, both of these girls thought that they were in a secret relationship with him.

The whole thing had been very strange. Then she said one of them was a girl named Hannah.

The next summer I was back in my hometown, and Hannah was also. I hung out with her casually. I told her what I had heard about her. She said she would tell me what really happened.

She had a crush on this boy, but she had seen him talk to another student named Julie, and she became jealous. She said she was convinced that this boy Mike wanted to be her boyfriend. She was sure Julie must have said something bad about her. Hannah said Julie was popular and pretty and a cheerleader, and she hated everything about her, so she decided she would try to see if she could push her to commit *******.

Hannah said it hadn’t worked but that she had a nervous breakdown. I asked her what she had done.

We went back to Hannah’s house. Up in her bedroom, she pulled something out from the back of her closet. It was a set of books. One was a book on how to use dirty tricks to get revenge on people, and one was a book with a cartoon character on the front pulling their hair out, and it said in big letters, “GASLIGHTING!”

I know it’s a common phrase now, but back in 1995, I had never heard of it. I asked Hannah what the book was about, and she said it was about how to drive someone crazy. She said it was simple; you just make them believe things aren’t really true or things they think are real but never happened.

Then she told me what she really did to Julie a couple of years back in high school.

She had pretended to be friends with her. She got her phone number and then she had started making these anonymous phone calls to her. This would have been way before cell phones were common. She had a friend from her church who had a crush on her, and she would trade ****** favors with him in exchange for him pretending to be Mike on the phone. He would get a******** for every time he did this for Hannah. Fake Mike would tell Julie not to talk in school so that they could keep things private. Hannah would put notes in her locker and sign Mike’s name on them.

Fake Mike would make plans to meet Julie at the mall or the movies and then never show up. It sounds very stupid, but they would have been 14- or 15-year-old girls when this happened.

Hannah said she had done something really embarrassing but that it had worked. She had a mixtape, and she would whisper nasty, little phrases like, “You want to die,” or “You should kill yourself” between songs and had played it in her bedroom when Julie was over. Obviously, she commented on it, and Hannah sat there with a straight face and said she didn’t hear anything and had no idea what she was talking about. She had set it up with her brother earlier and had asked him to help her play a prank on her friend.

He came into her bedroom and said he couldn’t hear anything and turned around and told Julie that she must be crazy and hearing things.

Julie’s parents decided to confront this boy and his family about his behavior towards their daughter. He had no idea what was going on. Because her parents had confronted this boy about something he was never doing, Julie had been publically humiliated at her high school, and everyone was talking about how she was crazy. Hannah loved every bit of it until Julie’s parents got their phone bill and decided to give it a good look.

Mike had not been calling their house, but somebody had been. They had numerous anonymous phone calls. They checked it out and found out they were all coming from Hannah’s home phone number.

Julie confronted Hannah about it at school, and that was when something violent happened between the two of them in the stairwell. Julie said Hannah had started screaming at her that Mike was her secret boyfriend.

Hannah was very angry about that. She said Julie made that part up to try to get back at her and embarrass her for what she had done. She said Julie was exaggerating about what happened in the stairwell, and it had been an accident. She said she never tried to push her over the railing; she had merely bumped into her.

Hannah wasn’t embarrassed about it. She was proud of it. The only thing that upset her was that she had been caught, but she said that most of the people at her Catholic school still thought that Julie was crazy, so she considered it something of a victory.

Hannah didn’t have anything to say in her defense, just that when she liked a boy, she would do anything to be with them.

That summer, Hannah started dating a guy named Derek. Every time I saw her, she told me tales about their wild and crazy *** life and how much he was in love with her. Hannah said it was a secret affair, and they were sneaking around behind his girlfriend’s back. We saw him once at a party, and he screamed at Hannah to stay away from him and leave him and his girl alone. Someone had been making strange anonymous phone calls to him and his girlfriend. He paid to have the number traced back and found out it was Hannah.

Hannah admitted that she had been trying to break them up because he was taking too long to do it himself but that she had overplayed it, and now he was angry and had broken things off with her.

She was depressed after Derek, so I took her out to a bar. Hannah started flirting with this much older guy in his 40s who was sitting by himself. She had recently purchased a cell phone. This would have been in ’96 or ’97 when they were still kind of new and novel. The next thing I knew, she has this phone out, and I thought she was giving this old guy her phone number. Instead, he asked her what she wanted him to say.

She typed a phone number in, handed the guy her phone, and he made disgusting comments to whoever answered about how he was having *** with this guy’s girlfriend and commenting on what a wh*re she was. He hung up and started laughing and handed the phone back to Hannah. Hannah gave him a 20 dollar bill and said the girl was a **** and deserved it for stealing her boyfriend. She was paying complete strangers to anonymously call people she hated on her cell phone and recite some pre-arranged script to spread rumors about them.

I ran into a mutual friend later in the summer and mentioned that Derek had broken things off with Hannah. She gave me a very funny look and said that maybe there had never been any relationship to break off.

A year later, we were both temporarily living back with our parents and sort of adrift. Hannah had been kicked out of her dorm over an accusation made by another student and never completed her degree. She had started hanging out with some old friends from high school. One of those former high school friends was a young woman named Kelley who Hannah had been pretty good friends with. Something had happened between the two of them because Hannah went on and on about how much she hated her. It had something to do with Kelley’s new boyfriend, Dan. Hannah insisted she was using him in some bizarre plot to make another man jealous and was worried that she would hurt him because she had found out about an STD that she had.

I drove by her house one night, and there were two police cars out front. I went home and called her, and she said she couldn’t talk. I went over and saw her the next day. I thought that their house had been robbed or something. No, the police had been there to talk to her about an incident that had been reported.

Hannah was upset. She said that she had to tell the police that she had smoked greens and had gotten high because Kelley had made an accusation against her. Hannah said it was an accident and a misunderstanding. Hannah swore she hadn’t been trying to hurt her.

The day after, Hannah told me about how much she hated Kelley. Apparently, she had called her up and said she wanted to talk to her about something.

She and another friend had shown up, and the three of them had gone out to some local overlook to smoke a joint. The other girl waited down below for the two of them to talk privately. Hannah had asked Kelley to look at something and when she turned her back Kelley said Hannah grabbed her and tried to push her off the ledge. They were about 100 feet up in the air, and she would most likely have been killed by the fall. Kelley said they fought back and forth. She regained her balance and had taken off screaming about what Hannah had tried to do.

Hannah said it was all a misunderstanding. It was an accident. She had been trying to show her something but then she had lost her balance because she was high and had grabbed Kelley to stabilize herself, not push her off the edge.

She said Kelley had almost fallen off because she had hysterically overreacted. Kelley had been very upset and insisted that Hannah had done it on purpose, and she said that it was because she was jealous over her relationship with Dan. She said it was obvious to everyone that Hannah was obsessed with him. What Kelley had not done, however, was tell the police that they had smoked a joint right before this happened, and when Hannah did, the police said that didn’t have enough evidence for any kind of case. They weren’t happy with Kelley for omitting that part of the account.

That was it for Hannah and most of her high school friends, or at least for a couple of years.

Kelley stuck to her version of what happened, and her friends sided with her. People began talking about the strange rumors that had followed Hannah around since high school. I thought it was suspicious, but I couldn’t bring myself to believe that she tried to kill another woman. I thought that sort of thing only happened in the movies, not small towns in Indiana.

I did not, however, want to be friends with her. She was an embarrassment to be around.

She had almost no friends left in town at that point. She called me up to tell me she had decided she needed a change, and she was going to pursue a different career and move to Minneapolis to make that happen.

She moved in 1998, and I honestly thought I would never see her again. I wish I hadn’t.

She called me about a year and a half later. She said she was doing really well and that the move had been good for. She said she had made friends, and she had met a boy and was completely in love. She said this was the guy she was going to marry. His name was Dan, and she told me that he was the guy that had gotten her interested in punk rock and hard *****.

I kind of paused when she said that. I wasn’t any kind of angel in my 20s, but I never even dabbled in hard stuff like that and it didn’t sound very good.

Hannah insisted it wasn’t a habit. She said it was amazing and easy to control as long as you were careful. This was a complete change in lifestyle and scene. Before this, she had been something of a hippie chick, but that was all gone now. At that point, her life revolved around her hair, punk rock, hard *****, and Dan.

She wanted to come back for a visit. We went to the mall, and she stopped at a kiosk and said she wanted to buy a cell phone. She lived 8 hours away in a completely different state with a completely different area code. We got into a small argument about it. Back in 2000, cell phones were purchased and billed from your local area code, and you paid through the nose if you were roaming.

Hannah said to just drop it because she had done her research, and it would be fine.

She bought the phone and listed her boyfriend Dan as the main user on the registration. She left, and I noticed she had left her curling iron behind, and I thought I would surprise her by calling her new cell phone. She had set it up at my house, and I got the number from the caller ID. No one picked up. Instead, it went to an answering machine for Dan, the same Dan that had been dating Kelley years earlier and the same Dan that Hannah had been accused of being obsessed with. There was no doubt about who it was.

I hung up, and I wondered why she had lied to me about who her boyfriend really was.

A couple of minutes later, Hannah called me back on her original cell phone. She played it off as a coincidence that I had just called that other number. She said she had run into hometown Dan and his friends, and he had lost his phone, so Hannah had done him a favor and given him the one she had just purchased. I told her how strange it was that she would buy a phone for her boyfriend Dan, only to run into someone else with the same name and give it away instead. Dan’s real name is very common, probably one of the most common names for men of my generation, and Hannah joked about how many different people she knew with that same exact name.

A couple of months later, she called. She wanted to visit again in the summer. No matter what she said about being in control of the drug use, it was very obvious that it had become a full-fledged habit. Things had taken a turn in her life. Her boyfriend Dan had moved to Chicago. Hannah said that he was still in love with her, and they were still together but that something had happened with his ex-girlfriend, and they were taking a break and only seeing one another privately.

Hannah said he was trying to protect her. According to Hannah, his ex-girlfriend had refused to accept their break up and had been stalking Dan for months. It was one of the reasons he had moved.

She had taken an overdose of the hard ***** she was into and had tried to commit ******* when she found out that Hannah and Dan were together. That was the reason that they had decided that they had to keep their relationship a secret. That was why Hannah was really in town. He was going to be coming later to join her, and they had set up a get-together.

I wanted to meet him, but Hannah said he wouldn’t act like her boyfriend when other people were around. I started to question her. She got angry and said she wouldn’t let me meet him because I wouldn’t understand their relationship. We got into a fight. I ordered her out of my house and made it clear that I wanted nothing to do with her.

Her mother called me about a year later. She said that Hannah was living with them in Atlanta because something very bad had happened in Minneapolis. Hannah didn’t have any friends left. Her mother straight up begged me to please forgive her, so she could have someone to talk to. She said Hannah had spent 3 months in rehab and was off the hard ***** but emotionally was not doing well. She said she had to make a trip back to Minneapolis to take care of some things and pick up some of her stuff. Her mother was worried that being back there and around her old friends would trigger her to want to use again. She said it was very important that Hannah does not relapse.

If she did, the consequences would be severe. She wanted me to go with her. I said I would.

Hannah wouldn’t tell me what happened. She just said that someone had almost died, and it had been an accident, but it had still been her fault. She drove into town to pick me up for our trip up to Minneapolis but said we had to stop somewhere first. We went to the old bar downtown that we used to hang out in when she had lived in town. She said she had to meet someone. Some young woman walked in, and Hannah walked over to her and hugged her and started crying. She was apologizing all over the place and kept telling her she needed her to realize that it had been an accident.

The woman said she forgave her but that her life had been difficult since what happened, and she could not have anything to do with Hannah anymore and could no longer be friends with her. Hannah asked if she had ever spoken to her ex-boyfriend and had a chance to work things out with him. She said no and that he was mad at her, and he refused to talk to her. Hannah said he had a new cell phone, and she gave her the number just in case she changed her mind and wanted to get a hold of him.

She left. I was sitting there totally confused by what I had just witnessed. I was really uncomfortable with what I had heard.

I asked Hannah if the ex-boyfriend she was talking about was hometown Dan. She said no and that it was someone else that I had never met. Hannah said she and her Dan had broken up because he was still using hard *****, and she said it was too painful to talk about him. She said it was so painful that when we got to Minneapolis to please not bring him up. She said her friends knew not to mention him around her, and she asked me not to also.

We got to Minneapolis, and the young woman we were staying with turned out to be one of Hannah’s former roommates. That is when I found out what had really happened and what Hannah had been refusing to talk about.

It turned out that girl from the bar had been the other roommate, the one that had almost died because of something that Hannah did.

We settled in, and Hannah said that she could explain what happened a year ago. A year ago!? That was the first time I realized that this had happened much longer in the past than I thought. The former roommate said that she was happy that Hannah was clean, but she needed her to explain why she had tried to kill the other girl. Those were her words. She wasn’t calling it an accident. She said she was there; she saw it, and Hannah had done that to her on purpose, and she wanted to know why.

This is what she described.

Hannah had a friend from Indiana that had broken up with her boyfriend, Dan, after Hannah had told her that she found out he was cheating on her and had gotten another woman pregnant. Hannah invited her to live with her up in Minneapolis to get away from him and start over. She had no idea that Hannah was a hard drug user.

She did not like Minneapolis. She had experienced a run of bad luck the couple of weeks she had been there, and even though Hannah kept trying to convince her to stick it out to see if she would like it, she had decided she was going to leave and go back home. She regretted her break up with Dan.

She wanted to talk to him and see if they could work through it. They had been together for almost two years. She was worried because she had lost touch with him. Hannah had been able to track down his phone number for her through some mutual friends, but no matter how many times she called or how much she begged, he refused to answer her calls or call her back when she left messages. She was upset and told Hannah that she was going to stop by his apartment to see him on her way back to Indiana.

She was supposed to be leaving within a day. Hannah kept insisting that she would like hard ***** if she would just try a little bit and had been pressuring her very hard to join in with everyone else.

The roommate was angry about that. She said Hannah knew she was scared and didn’t even want to try it. Hannah had promised her that she would be safe and promised her that it would be a small dose. Hannah said she knew what she was doing. She gave in.

Hannah bought the hard *****, and she bought a lot more than normal, which she said was for a party later. She prepared the needles and said she had just used a small amount. Instead, she had used all that she had bought, which turned out to be way more than was necessary to kill all of them. Hannah had given the girl the injection, and she slumped over immediately and stopped breathing.

Hannah had then moved onto the other roommate and told her everything was fine in the other room and that she was enjoying herself. She tried to convince her to take her dose, but she wanted to check on the other girl first. Hannah walked over and had an imaginary conversation with the young woman who was completely unconscious and tried to convince the other roommate that she was fine.

She went to check on the girl and immediately saw she wasn’t even breathing, panicked, and started screaming at Hannah about why she was lying. She ran for the phone. Hannah ran after her. She dialed 911. Hannah grabbed the phone and hung it up. They called back, and she said it had been a mistake, and they were fine.

Hannah wouldn’t let her near the phone and kept trying to tell her that she was being hysterical and that everything was okay. Hannah tried to pin her down and force the needle on her, and she fought back and ran out of the apartment and down the hall to a neighbor. They called 911.

When the paramedics got there, the girl was clinically dead. They worked on her and got a heartbeat and transferred her to a local hospital in a comatose state. She lived, but for a while, it wasn’t clear if she would pull through. Hannah told the police she didn’t know why she had done it. After talking with a lawyer, she said it was because of drug psychosis and that she had been temporarily insane at the time.

She agreed to a long term rehab stay and a year of drug testing and probation. After that, the charges against her were dropped. That had been the reason that it was so important Hannah did not relapse. She would have been looking at prison time.

Hannah said it had been a strange, temporary hallucination that had caused her behavior and that she had never meant to hurt her, and the whole thing had been an accident and a misunderstanding. The same excuse she always used.

I am going to spell this out since the morons who work for the Minneapolis police department were too stupid to realize this 20 years ago.

Hannah was obsessed with this girl’s boyfriend, Dan. She had been obsessed with him for years.

She had developed a detailed and deranged fantasy that the two of them were in a secret relationship together because she has a peculiar and somewhat rare psychiatric condition called erotomania or De Clermabault’s syndrome. She believed that this young woman was standing in the way of their romance, and so, she ingratiated herself to her and pretended to be her friend so that she could find a way to get close enough to her to get her out of the way.

She successfully managed to spread rumors and interfere in their relationship enough that the two of them broke up and then Hannah invited this young woman to Minneapolis to isolate her from her other friends and control what information she had access to.

This was the year 2000, so we didn’t have text messages or Facebook back then for keeping in touch with people. She lulled her into a false sense of friendship and security, so she could manipulate her and get close enough to her to hurt her. When she realized she was still in love with Dan and wanted to talk to him, Hannah realized that she would eventually find out that the rumors she had been told were not true and that Hannah was the source.

She purchased a cell phone in Indiana and made a recording of Dan’s answering machine message so that she could impersonate him on the phone and so the young woman would believe she was in contact with him.

She never knew that Dan never received the messages. Hannah was using that to spy on her. When she said she was going to go back home and show up and see if Dan would talk to her in person, Hannah knew that meant she would find out she had given her a fake phone number and that she had gone to extreme lengths to prevent her from speaking to him, and it would have been obvious why.

She tried to talk her into trying hard ***** because she planned on killing her and her other roommate because that would be a good way to make it appear to be an accident. Hannah was about to have her obsessions with Dan, her delusional beliefs about him, and her bizarre mental disorder exposed, and she knew that.

She knew for at least a day or more before the incident, which is why it is clear that her actions were premeditated because her motive was. All of this would have been remarkably easy to figure out if the police had contacted Dan and if they had taken a look at Hannah’s phone records. Phone harassment has always been her favorite hobby.

Instead, they treated it just like the other 999 overdoses they have to respond to every month and gave Hannah the old rehab or prison option. Since her family could afford a lawyer and a 3-month rehab stay, that was the option she took. The police never investigated her for anything, never contacted the man “Dan” at the center of this, and never took any serious look into her background.

It wasn’t an accident. It was an attempted murder and a pretty easy one to prove at that. Instead, the police totally dropped the ball, and because of their incompetence, she was allowed to completely get away with it. By the way, just in case any idiots who work for the Minneapolis Police Department ever read this, there is no statute of limitations on first degree attempted murder.

At the time, I didn’t know any of this. I was trying to act as a support system for a former friend who was on the cusp of a hard substance relapse. I was suspicious, but any time I asked Hannah questions, she just said it was too painful to talk about or would guilt trip me about not respecting her boundaries.

She had sworn to me that this young woman had never been in any relationship with the Dan from our hometown that she had known years earlier.

I returned to Indiana, and Hannah returned to her parents in Atlanta, and I didn’t talk to her for a while. She called later and wanted to visit her old hometown again. Once again, I let her stay with me.

We ran into Dan. He had moved to Chicago but just happened to be back in town that weekend. I hadn’t seen him in years. Hannah had contacted him to get together. She spent the whole afternoon trying to pull him aside to talk to him, but instead, he made it clear that he had only shown up because he wanted to see me.

He had broken up with Kelley years earlier, but I thought he had a long term girlfriend since then. Dan said she had left him a year ago and just disappeared. He had called her repeatedly, but she had completely cut him off. He was nice to me, he was handsome, he was a lot of fun to be around, and he asked me out.

We made plans to meet up the next day. I saw him at a bar, and he turned around and walked out the door and wouldn’t even look at me. I was upset and confused. Hannah was super sympathetic. She apologized for not telling me what he was like and said he had this weird thing with lying to girls and playing with their emotions by pretending to like them.

It wasn’t like I had never been lied to by a boy before but this felt strange.

A week later, my student loan came through, and I decided to go back to college and finish my degree. I moved a couple of hours away. The first person that called me was Hannah. Once again, she wanted to come visit me. She insisted that she had gone out and got me a “surprise,” and she needed to give it to me in person. She said she had something really important to talk to me about, and she said that it would sound weird, but she asked me to promise her that I wouldn’t tell anyone she was coming to see me. I humored her.

She showed up at my apartment, and when she walked in, the first thing she asked me was if I had told anyone she would be there. At first, I said no. She said that she had something for me and reached into her purse. She paused and said that she just wanted to make sure that no one knew she was there. I was frustrated, and I kind of off-handed said that no one besides my mom and best friend. Hannah got furious. She was angry that I had told anyone she would be there and refused to show me what she had brought as a surprise for me. She went and locked it in her glove compartment because she said she didn’t want me to snoop in her stuff and find it.

She kept saying she wanted to talk about something, but the time wasn’t right. She decided to go home a day early.

Then, one day a couple of weeks later, out of the blue, she just showed up on my doorstep one evening. I was on the phone with my best friend, who by the way, went to the same Catholic high school as Hannah, and while not close friends with her, knew who she was. I was talking to her when I saw Hannah walk up to my front door. It was an 8-hour drive from Atlanta to Indiana. I got up and opened the door, and I still had the phone up to my ear. When I opened it, Hannah had her head down, and she had one hand inside her purse.

I said her name, and she looked up at me and pulled something purple from her purse.

She saw I was on the phone and swiveled around and put whatever she had been holding in her hand back in her bag. She was acting very strange, and she was shaking, and I was worried. I asked her to come inside. At that point, I was convinced that she was back on hard ***** and that had been the secret she had been trying to talk to me about for months.

She said that she was upset about a boy and needed to talk to me. She said she had something that she wanted to show me, and she reached into her purse and pulled out a handgun.

It was a purple and black revolver, and I realized from the color that it was what she had pulled from her purse when I had first answered the door. She said that she had been checking to make sure the safety was on, and I was lucky that she hadn’t accidentally shot me because I had startled her. She said the gun was because she was back on hard ***** and scared of the part of town she had to go to in order to buy it.

I didn’t know it back then, but revolvers don’t have safeties.

She told me about a musician in Atlanta that she had met, and she was frustrated because he had a girlfriend, and she hadn’t been able to find a way to get him to pay attention to her.

She wanted me to tell her what I had done to Dan, so she could use it on this guy. She told me he was still talking about me months later, and she wanted to know why he was still interested even though we hadn’t talked since the previous summer.

From my point of view, he wasn’t. He had ghosted me months earlier. Hannah kept insisting that I must have done something to him. It was like she was implying that I had hypnotized him or something ludicrous, and she wanted me to tell her. I clearly explained that I hadn’t done anything, and he had ignored me and then never returned my phone calls after I tried calling him. She cried and drank for a couple of hours and then turned around and drove 8 hours back to Atlanta in the middle of the night.

Just for the record, Hannah was the one who gave me Dan’s phone number.

After this, something very strange seemed to get set into motion. I got a phone call from an anonymous number, and when I answered, it was Hannah who said someone wanted to talk to me, and she flipped me over to a three-way call with someone else. It was Dan’s roommate and best friend in Chicago, and he started screaming at me asking me why I was playing games with Dan and messing with him. He said he was going out of his mind, and I needed to call him back and stop whatever it was that I had been doing to him. I told him I didn’t know what he was talking about, Dan had never called me, and I had tried to call him and……. Then we were disconnected.

Then another anonymous call that was really Hannah with another three-way call and another group of boys who started yelling at me and telling me they would kill me for what I had done to Dan. Then another disconnected line before I could ask them what they were talking about.

Then I called Hannah to find out what the **** was going. It was the craziest and most disturbing conversation I have ever had with another person. At first, she just kept saying that I had hurt Dan, and I could not ever talk to him again or have any contact with him. None of it made any sense since this was about a guy that had refused to return my phone calls and had ignored me for months.

Hannah started getting very upset and kept saying that I knew what I had done but that I just wouldn’t admit it. She said that Dan hated me and had never wanted anything to do with me but that I was doing things to him to make him say that and pretend that he liked me instead of her. I had no idea what the **** was going on.

She said that Dan was her secret boyfriend and that he was in love with her and had been in love with her for years. She said that the two of them had been together since they were teenagers and that I knew it but was pretending not to. I asked her how she could have been his girlfriend when I knew of other girls he had dated.

She started screeching that those weren’t real relationships; he was only pretending to like them. When he talked about them, he was really talking about her, but other people kept doing things to him so that he couldn’t tell her directly how he felt, but she knew. She insisted that he found ways to let her know that he was really thinking about her. She said that all of his friends respected their privacy, which was why they would play along when he pretended he was dating other people. She kept insisting he was in love with her and no one else.

She said she was sick of people pretending to be her friend and then stabbing her in the back by going after her boyfriend, and she said she would not put up with anyone coming between them, and she would not let anyone hurt him.

She said I was forcing him to forget how he really felt and that it had hurt him not to be with her, and she wouldn’t let me hurt him. I realized that she wasn’t making any sense and that she was totally psychotic. I told her to NEVER contact me again, and I hung up.

All I could think about was how she had pulled a gun out of her purse the last time she had shown up at my apartment by surprise. She had given a fatal overdose of hard ***** to another woman and had been accused by another of luring them to a ledge and trying to push her off. The one thing we all had in common was Dan.

I called the number I had for Dan. It was disconnected. I thought about that weird situation with the cell phone she had purchased a couple of years earlier. I found that old number in my address book and called it, except this time, it wasn’t Dan’s voice on the answering machine; it was mine. The psycho **** had made a recording of my voicemail and had put it on a cell phone that she owned, and once I discovered that, pretty much everything fell very clearly into place. That was what had happened to that girl in Minneapolis, and that was why Dan had spent the last several months thinking he was contacting me. There was no relationship with Dan; it was all in Hannah’s head, and she was frantically trying to keep other women away from him to protect her fantasy from imploding.

Hannah is psychotic. It is a mental disorder called erotomania, and it is the fixed delusional belief that another person is secretly in love with you. Not everyone who has it will be violent, but some people are. In some cases, other people are used in strange psychotic dramas and vicious smear campaigns that are aimed at trying to rearrange reality so that it conforms with the delusions inside of their heads. The people that are perceived as standing in their way can be the victims of extreme violence.

Hannah showed up the next day at my apartment screaming at me to let her in. I would not, and I was getting ready to call the police when she started crying and saying that Dan had killed himself and then she walked away, and that was the last time I ever saw her.

I spoke to my parents, who told me that I had received several phone calls to their house from people letting me know the same thing.

I changed my phone number to keep her from contacting me. I contacted the police in Indiana who said if she showed up again, that they could arrest her for felony intimidation but not for anything she had done months earlier. I contacted the police in Minneapolis, but I knew very little information, only Hannah’s name, not where or when it had happened. I asked repeatedly to please be allowed to speak to someone, but the woman on the phone said they weren’t interested in talking to me.

I moved so, she wouldn’t know where I lived.

I cut myself off from anyone from my hometown who I thought might know her, so nothing could ever get back to her about where I lived. The last I heard from her, she was stalking some new guy down in Atlanta.

I would have been more than happy to meet the **** in a courtroom, but unfortunately, the law is nothing like you see on TV. So, unless I ever have the privilege of sitting in on her sentencing hearing, Hannah from Indiana, let’s not meet again.” sbanyan75

8. Refuse To Lock Our Door? Fine, I’ll Lock “Our” Stuff Behind My Door

“So, this was a few years ago during my freshman year in college. I had worked hard in high school to save up enough cash to buy two TVs, a PS4, speakers, kitchen utensils and plates, a futon, and a few other smaller items.

The college I went to had suite-style living where each roommate got his own individual room. There were four of us, so we had four rooms: two bathrooms, a small kitchen, and a great room/main room. Since I was the first one who moved in, I got unpacked and settled in, making sure to leave plenty of room for everyone to unpack and claim space in the bathrooms and other common areas.

I set up one TV (the larger one) in the great room with my PS4, so we could all enjoy it, and I put all my utensils and plates in the kitchen, so we could use those as well. I didn’t mind sharing my stuff up to this point since I liked to share and put my faith in others.

However, I wouldn’t be posting here if this trusting nature of mine wasn’t changed…

Onto the story.

One night, a drunk college kid came barging into our room screaming to the top of his lungs, waking me up. I was about to get out of bed until one roommate, the slob of the group, ran out and kicked him to the hallway. Since I left a lot of expensive items in the great room for us to use, this made me fear anyone could walk in and steal my stuff, and that would be the last I would’ve seen of them. So, I asked my roommates to lock the door if no one else was home, and we agreed on it.

It worked for a few days until I noticed I walked in, and no one was home, but the door wasn’t locked.

Granted, they would go to a few friend’s dorms across the hall, but they had gone out for almost 5 hours. I asked them again, but they blew me off. A one to three vote doesn’t work too well at the college I attended as far as roommate agreements went, so there was nothing I could do. Anyway, there were three more instances of dumb, young freshmen walking into our dorm and either yelling or passing out on our couch with just the TV on and nothing on it.

The straw that broke the camel’s back was when I noticed my dishes I was sharing were in the trash along with some stainless steel utensils. As I looked around, I also saw one of the four controllers I had was smashed and under the couch, and my remote was totally lost (never knew what happened to it after all these years).

I finally asked them once more to lock the door and to try to respect my things I shared with them, but they blew me off and said, “It’s not like you use them. It’s basically ours anyway.”

With this, I got petty, and I mean petty.

I started my revenge when they went off to get beer since they wanted to play a new Call of Duty game (can’t remember which title). I first started with moving my TV and PS4 into my room, along with everything else I had out there, as well as my futon, which we used as a second couch. It took me about thirty minutes of hard labor, but I finally had a packed dorm room, but man, it looked awesome!

But that’s my petty part; time for revenge.

After another 20 minutes, they returned with a whole group, and they were stoked to play the new CoD, until they noticed the entire great room empty, except for the couch and tv stand. I decided to leave before they got back, but I was receiving calls and texts for almost an hour asking where I was and where all the stuff went. I decided to keep quiet and allow them to embarrass themselves in front of their friends. Not only that, but they confronted me on a few occasions to get me to surrender my items or else they’d have to pay for new ones out of pocket. (None of them worked and sponged off all the snacks I bought for myself, which were now safe under my bed.)

I merely said, “Oh, sorry, but they are now LOCKED behind my room since that’s the only door that is locked in this whole place.

I told you I won’t share if it isn’t behind a locked room, but now it is.”

They were very unhappy and spent way more than I did on my items since I got my stuff from back to school sales and used work discounts to buy my items. I probably paid nearly $1,400 on everything I bought, and they paid nearly $2,100 to get back everything I had shared, and they had to split it all up at the end of the school year. I know one thing for certain; it is fun to see three guys fight over a PS4 and a large TV since they all chipped in to pay for them.” ImJustHereForCorn

Another User Comments:

“Should have played dumb for a bit and pretended the stuff was stolen.

Maybe that would have made them think twice about their “locks are optional” opinions! Screw sharing with people that can’t show you the barest amount of respect!” i-care-not

7. Mooch Off Of Me? I’ll Turn You Green And Have You Packing In No Time

“In 2017, I took a new job on the other side of my fairly large city. Rather than commute from where I was living now and spend at least 90 minutes driving each way, I decided to move closer to my new job.

I could have got a 1 bedroom apartment on my own, but my budget at the time would only barely manage it. I’m a single guy in my 20s, and I like to go out and order in.

Sure, I could have had my own place, but I would have been eating ramen and staying in most of the time.

So, I leased a 2-bedroom in March 2017 and started advertising for a roommate. A great guy named Dave got in touch, we seemed to click, and he moved in. I have a pickup truck, so I helped him go get furniture, and he helped me move my *** to the new place.

We got along great. We were alike enough that we had common interests but different enough that we would have great discussions. Things were fine. We would split the cost of stuff like toilet paper and dish soap. Neither of us were total slobs, but we weren’t fussy little b******** who would complain about a dirty glass left in the sink overnight.

In the meantime, my job was going great. Within six months, I got a promotion and a very hefty raise.

Dave told me he was leaving as of November 1, 2017. I probably should have just covered the apartment myself until the end of the lease on February 28, 2018, but I made a mistake.

Let’s call the mistake “Bro” since that’s what he called everyone else. Bro was Dave’s drug dealer, had been to the apartment a few times, and needed a place to stay. He seemed like he had his *** together, was charismatic, and well-groomed. So, Dave moved out, and Bro moved in at the beginning of November.

Trouble started pretty soon afterward. He was vain as ***, always with neatly trimmed blond hair, nice clothes, and $500 sneakers.

That’s where all his money went. He didn’t buy food or anything else. I would buy a loaf of bread, and the next day, there was 1/4 of a loaf left. I would go to take a dump, and there was no paper. I used to leave a big jar of peanut butter in the cupboard. It evaporated.

I would give him *** and tell him to buy his own stuff. “Yeah, bro, no problem.” But nothing changed.

He didn’t even have a cell phone…. Well, he did, but he never used it. He couldn’t get a plan because of an unpaid account, so he had a pay-as-you-go plan and relied on WhatsApp and Facebook Messenger to keep in contact with people… like his customers.

How much do you think he contributed to the Internet bill?

Rent was usually late and never in one chunk. And he was a complete slob, never did dishes or wiped anything down. I don’t think he even knew how to spell “mop.”

I was getting more and more p*ssed off, and finally, we had a big argument just before Christmas 2017. I basically told him, flat out, that if he didn’t stop using my stuff and start pulling his own weight, then, and I quote, “***’s gonna happen, and you won’t like it.”

The final straw. I made a bunch of cookies to take with me to visit my family for Christmas. I told him specifically not to touch the stuff in the fridge… and he devoured about 1/3 of it.

*** you, Bro. Now I am ****** angry, and I am coming for you.

Bro was excited to be going to Costa Rica for a week in February. One of his friend’s parents had a condo there, and Bro and three friends were planning a trip to stay there for a week. Since their accommodations were free, they could party it up, and I overheard their plans for booze, cheap *****, and paid-to-party girls.

I spent a lot of time in my room when Bro and his friends were over playing video games. I have a good headset, so they must have assumed I was playing away rather than listening through the paper-thin walls.

One of the things they were planning to do was “suitcase” some ***** back home.

For those of you who don’t know what that means, it’s putting something up your a** to smuggle it. Stuff is cheap in Costa Rica, about 10% of what it costs here, and much stronger. They were planning to bring a smallish amount, a few grams each, then dilute it when they got back and sell it for enough to cover the trip.

Well, it comes time for the trip and time to pull the trigger on my revenge.

HERE WE GO.

Bro and his buddies were leaving on a Saturday morning. I told Bro that I was going to be out of town, so he would have to arrange for his own ride to the airport, but that I would pick him up.

He gave me his fight number for his return flight.

I had a few Coca Colas in the fridge and a chocolate cake that I had taken a few slices from. In the cupboard was a bag of Doritos and some Oreos. I told him, again, not to touch my ***.

Bro was out of the house on Friday, so before I left, I took every cleaning product in the place in a bag. Every soap, dish soap, vinegar, cleanser, everything. All of it.

Did I mention that Bro would use my stuff? This included my shampoo and body wash. I use a product called “Irish Spring” body wash, which is a gel that’s in a bright emerald green.

So, before I left, I stirred 2 containers of green food coloring into the bottle and put it back in the shower.

Did I mention that Bro had a pale complexion?

Then I got into the admin of the router and filtered the MAC addresses down to my PS3, phone, and desktop, effectively locking him out of the internet.

Saturday morning, my phone started blowing up. I guess Bro went for a shower before leaving for the airport and got more than he thought when he used my Irish Spring as usual. I wish I could have seen it. He lost his ***, calling me every name in the book, and threatening to kick my a** when he returned.

BUT THERE’S MORE.

On Sunday when I got back home, the apartment was a disaster. Clearly, he had people over, and they had drunk all my Cokes and eaten my munchies.

That’s when I finally replied to him on WhatsApp. He called me almost immediately and started ranting and screaming into the phone, freaking out that he’s ****** GREEN, and it won’t wash out. No beach, no pool. Calling me a ****** *****, how can I do this to him, etc. I just told him that I had said that if he keeps using my ***, something would happen that he didn’t like, and he wouldn’t be in this mess if he wasn’t a ****** thief.

Then I told him that he should actually be grateful and thank me.

“Thank you? Thank you for what, you ***?”

“Thank me for not loading the cake with laxatives, as I had planned to.”

On Tuesday, I messaged him, “Bro, the cops were here looking for you.”

“What? What for?”

“Don’t know, Bro.

They just wanted to know where you were.”

“What did you tell them?”

“That you were in Costa Rica but that you were flying back in on Sunday afternoon.”

There were no cops. But he didn’t know that. All he knows is that there was a possibility that they might be waiting for him on arrival, and that if he was discovered smuggling “stuff” from Costa Rica, he would be in BIG trouble. So, there went his suitcasing plans, and there went his plans to pay for his trip.

On Friday, I told him that I wouldn’t be able to pick him up at the airport but not why.

I had given my notice and surrendered the apartment. All week, I packed up my stuff, all of it.

I actually owned the furniture in Bro’s room, but I didn’t want it, so I went into his room, dumped his *** on the floor, and dragged it down to the dumpster. I slashed the mattress and kicked the dresser and bedside table to matchsticks. Couch and chairs, too.

Then I emptied the place. Every cup, plate, knife, fork, all of it was either trashed or moved. I did leave ONE small pot, but I drilled ***** in the bottom, just to make my point.

I took the showerhead. I took the shower curtain. I took the shower curtain RINGS. I emptied the place.

I heard later, from Dave, who knew one of the guys that went to Costa Rica with Bro, that Bro had showed up with very little money, and what little he had was soon gone.

He was mooching off the others, and it didn’t take long for them to tire of Bro. Whatever fury they may have felt by The Greening of Bro was soon diffused once they caught wind of his true nature.

I don’t know how he got back from the airport, but on Sunday, he called me freaking out about the apartment.

“Where’s my bed, man? Where’s my furniture?”

“What furniture? All that stuff was mine, and I didn’t want it anymore.”

“What the ***, man? What did I ever do to you?”

“Aside from stealing my ***, not pulling your weight, and ****** me over for rent and bills, you mean?”

“Now I have to sleep on the floor? *** you. *****.”

“No, *** YOU, Bro. Just to let you know, I did you a favor.

Now you have less *** to move. Better get started looking for a new place to live because the management of the building is changing the locks on Wednesday morning.”

Then I blocked Bro. Never heard from him again, but Dave told me he couch-surfed for a few weeks then disappeared. Probably moved out of town, who knows? Good riddance.” thrownaway147963

Another User Comments:

“Why didn’t you load that cake with laxatives though?” Reddit user

Reply:

“If I recall correctly from the hundreds of office lunch theft stories I’ve read, that can be considered poisoning and can get you in serious trouble. Yes, even though it’s yours. Yes, even if you clearly label it. Yes, even if it’s not a lot of laxatives. As long as you know there’s a good chance that someone else will eat it, despite all you do to prevent that from happening, you can be charged with poisoning.

Similarly, you can get in the same amount of trouble for excessively spicy foods, even if there’s no lasting damage, unless you can prove that you intended to eat it.” 2CATteam

6. Lie And Steal From Me? I’ll Ruin Your Life

Dang, he got more than just a little payback.

“So, many years ago while still a teen, I moved out of my parent’s place to live across the street from my junior college. There were many students in the building, so I rented a room in a large basement 3-bedroom unit that was reserved for students at the school. I didn’t really know anyone in the building as it was on the other side of the city from where I grew up. At the time, there was one other roommate already living in the unit who we’ll call Sean.

To be kind…. Sean was a short, fat ****. Older than myself by a few years, he was in some kind of simplified remedial program as he’d failed a couple of school years and mentioned how this was his “last chance” to make something of himself in his parent’s eyes. Kinda dim, not too much going on in his life…. but harmless, or so I thought.

Anyways, I was hoping to start things off on the right foot with him as he was to be my roommate, so I wanted to be friends. As I was moving in my stuff, he mentioned how he had no money for a moving van. So, I offered to do a trip with my rented van to his parents if he needed any help moving some stuff of his.

He happily accepted. So, we drive to his parents’ where I meet his mother and discover that he’s from a somewhat affluent family (somewhat surprising considering he’s “too broke to hire a van,” but whatever).

A couple of days later, I meet his nice girlfriend who lived “up the hill” from our apartment (translation: she was extremely affluent). This girlfriend would dote on him. Visiting him a lot at our place, to the point where she would regularly hand deliver him delicious meals that had been prepared at her house. This will be important later.

Anyways, it slowly becomes apparent that this unassuming guy has a dishonest streak. While moving my stuff in, I’d mentioned that I had a spare waterbed. He immediately offered to buy it, so I moved it in myself and set it up with the agreement he’d pay me a ‘friend’ price (around $200 for a $700 bed).

Weeks pass, and he keeps giving me excuses about not paying whenever the subject comes up.

He then started to randomly shift the narrative to a story about how “his wealthy parents” can pay for us to get a great condo in a new development just up the street. I remember wondering why his parents would make such an offer despite the fact we’ve just moved into our current apartment. The story didn’t make sense. Nevertheless, he constantly tried to set up some visit with me and get me involved. I wasn’t really interested in moving again at that point, so I never really pursued it. I learned later that this was not only a lie but a typical ploy of his.

Anyways…

As I had just moved out of my old neighborhood, I hadn’t opened up a new bank acco*** (this was before internet banking) in this new part of town. So, I was keeping my money (a couple hundred) hidden in my room ***il I set up an account nearby. I was only loosely keeping track of this money and barely noticed how my money was going a little quickly until, one day, I go to get my last $40…and it’s gone. Unfortunately, by this point, a third roommate had moved into our flat (a cool hippy dude from Maritimes). So, although I was convinced it was Sean that had robbed me, I wasn’t 100% sure.

To resolve things as amicably as possible, I decided to give him a chance to come clean.

So, one night, I asked him point-blank, fairly casually, if he’d taken my money “as I’d noticed a small amount” was missing. I’ll never forget his reaction. He immediately stiffened, his eyes glazed over, and he blurted out, “I didn’t take anything. It wasn’t me” and just stared at me. I was shocked… He didn’t just look guilty, his reaction had such a rehearsed quality. I could tell he’d been accused of similar things MANY times before.

I tried my best to be calm, smile, and act as if I believed him… but inside, I was livid. I couldn’t stop thinking about how this guy was trying to play me like a fool. I realized that although I knew it was him, I couldn’t do anything about it as I had no proof.

By this point, I felt sick to be living in the same space as this guy. I realized to get out of this situation and to deal with this jerk appropriately, I would have to lay a trap.

To make sure he didn’t suspect anything, the next day, I was all smiles. Playing dumb, I exclaimed loudly how “I hope I don’t lose my money again; I just got paid!” and leave the apartment. Before I left, I made sure to leave my video camera filming my room. This was so long ago. It was a huge a** VHS tape camera that I had to hide on my bed under pillows and ***, but it still worked like a charm.

I came back, replayed the tape, and 16 minutes in, I see that *********** going through my ***.

I tell you, I went cold as ice seeing Sean casually rifle through my things. My suspicions confirmed, I had to cool off with my friends across town over some beers. When I finally told them all what was happening, they started pulling out bats, hockey sticks, and suggesting we go pay Sean a visit. As tempting as this was, I was now in college and didn’t want to resort to messy violence. So, instead, I plotted my revenge.

The first thing I did was to make sure my cool, hippy 3rd roommate was in the loop. Not having had a lot of time to get to know him, I asked him his thoughts on retribution and if he agreed with ‘ an eye for an eye.’ Confident we were on the same page, I showed him the video.

He freaks out over having a thief for a roommate, but I reassure him to just be cool because some things are going to happen to Sean real soon. Then I WENT TO STAY AT MY PARENTS’ HOUSE and waited until that Thursday.

You see, Sean liked to talk a lot. Turns out, his rich parents had actually kicked him out of the house. The fact he’d actually found an apartment and gone back to school was a big success for him. On Thursday, he’d be out of the apartment as his parents were having a big congratulatory dinner for him at their place. So, I waited until I knew the dinner was underway then called his house to speak to his mother.

Crazy thing is, both he and his sister pick up the phone at the same time. So, while his sister goes to get his mom on the line, he’s asking me loudly, “Why are you calling my mother???” repeatedly.

His mother gets on, and while Sean’s screaming at his mother to hang up, I calmly state, “I’m sorry to disturb you, but I have reason to believe your son has stolen from me….” Suddenly, there’s dead silence. After almost a minute, she replies, “Take it up with Sean” and just hangs up. What the ***?!?! I don’t know what reaction I expected, but it wasn’t that.

Anyways, now with just Sean on the line, I tell him the jig is up. I have him on tape, and I want my money back.

He replies, “You have nothing on me. *** you.” At this point, I realize he’s right. I’d really only filmed him rifling through my stuff. If I went to the police, the charges wouldn’t stick, and there was a good chance he knew it.

So, by this point, I tried very hard to be reasonable about things. But as it was, his rich parents couldn’t care less. I had no real proof to go to the police with, and worst of all, I still had a year-long lease to live with him. So, *** that ***. I told him he’d better find another place to live and hung up the phone as it was time to go nuclear on his a**.

Remember how I said the **** talked too much? Turns out he bragged about how he faked his credentials for the apartment, and the landlord had never checked.

So, the first step was to drive with my folks to the landlord’s office and tell them to evict him for theft immediately. When they start telling me crap like, “We’ll have to take some time to review this matter,” I immediately threaten a lawsuit over how they’re liable as I can prove they never did the prescribed background check. My landlord goes pale and instantly promises everything I ask.

I then take this moment to go downstairs “for a minute,” a statement witnessed by multiple people. I then go to Sean’s room and take thousands of dollars of his expensive *** (stereo, tv, hockey jerseys, cologne, etc…) and put it all outside on our enclosed/hidden fire escape. I then go straight back upstairs (hello alibi) and leave with my folks.

The first chance I get, I call my friends with the bats. Hey, guys, who wants a new wardrobe and entertainment system?!!! I give them the instructions on how to find all of Sean’s stuff hidden in the unused back alley and chill with parents for the next 3-4 days.

Upon my return to the apartment, I am greeted with awe by a highly entertained hippy roommate who gave me the play by play of what went down in my absence. Apparently, Sean returned from his dinner to an empty room devoid of any of his possessions, causing him to rampage through the apt and curse my name. When hippy innocently asked, “What’s wrong, Sean?” he tells him that I stole all his stuff but that his dad would get it back for him.

(As if!!! Lol.)

The next morning, his alarm clock was the landlord walking into his room and showing it to a potential tenant while informing him that he was evicted “immediately.” He would later be dumped by his rich girlfriend who was buying his groceries (“You haven’t changed Sean! Again with the lying & cheating”) and disowned very publicly by his well to do dad. Indeed, his dad had come to the apartment, only to tell Sean he was worthless and that, despite his crying and begging, he could not live back at the house. Desperate, Sean followed his dad outside and jumped on the hood of the car, pleading to go home. The dad had to drive to a nearby police station to have him removed.

The last thing I heard, he was broke, dropped out of school, dumped by his girlfriend, and camping in a friend’s backyard in a tent in CANADA in November.” r_husba

 

5. Disrupt Me During My Studies? I’ll Disrupt You During Yours

Fair trade.

“This is another petty story about my two-year roommate during my time living on campus during college.

A little backstory for this one: When we first started rooming together, NJ had an addition to both WoW and Runescape. While the games, themselves, are not important for the story, his underlying addiction to games is important.

One character trait of NJ which I could never understand was how he preferred to study – not just complete his homework: study in loud environments. While I understand some people prefer this, I believe it is an important aspect of cohabitation to recognize and respect different lifestyles.

One Wednesday night, I chose to settle in and study in my room as our libraries were consistently too noisy, even in the designated quiet areas. NJ was well-aware of this as I had voiced these complaints before. He, consitent with his nature, chose to go out drinking on that Wednesday night. Rather than going elsewhere to pregame, he chose to invite some girls over to drink in our room before going out. “Don’t worry, we’re just meeting here then we’re going over to so-and-so’s place before the bars,” NJ said.

They come over in full, already-tipsy force, loud as can be, talking about what one of them saw on Facebook or who was in the library or whatever. Half an hour passes, and NJ says they’re waiting for two more people.

An hour goes by; NJ says that they’re still waiting but that he will bring them elsewhere, so I can study. An hour and a half now, they’re still there, so I grab my things and go to the library to study, despite its distracting noise levels. I had a terribly difficult night of studying. He never apologized for the distraction the next day.

The next test for which NJ needed to study, he chose to procrastinate until the morning of the day before the test. Knowing I had a prescription but having never tried it himself, he asked me if I thought Adderall would help him focus and if he could buy one of mine to help him cram. “Ha!” I thought.

“You want ME to help YOU study now?” So, I think about it for a moment, then I insisted that he just have one, no payment required.

I checked the time and made sure to watch him take it, and then I left. I came back forty-five minutes later, knowing he would start feeling the effects soon. Keeping in mind that he was easily hooked on video games and, knowing that he had never played it (learned in an unrelated conversation a while ago, though I was quite surprised he never had), I introduced him to Bejeweled. He was hooked.

I left, came back ten hours later to find him happy as a clam, still playing Bejeweled, and none of his study materials moved at all.

I smiled and cracked open a beer. His test did not go well.” hi_rihanna

4. Keep Stealing My Shampoo? I Hope You Like Your Hair Falling Out

“I’m subleasing a room in an apartment. It was 3-bedroom, and I had two roommates. They were nice enough guys.

One day, some random dude is at our place, I get a “Hey man, this guy is going to be staying here for a couple of weeks. Is that cool?” I’m super laid back; I had no problems with it whatsoever. But then those couple of weeks turned into months, and now it’s been roughly 6 months that he’s been living here for free. The two original roommates left, and now it’s me, another subleaser and this freeloader (still not paying anything except occasional electricity).

To make matters more annoying, he constantly steals my stuff. If I buy a loaf of bread, it mysteriously vanishes. He and I share a bathroom, and I recently shaved my head, so I had stopped using my shampoo and body wash for a few weeks (switched to a bar of soap). I tried to use it a couple of days ago, and they were both completely empty. I went to wash clothes today only to find out the vast majority of my laundry detergent is gone. I can’t ****** stand it anymore, and he doesn’t listen when you try to talk to him about anything.

Our lease is up soon, and I could’ve just let it go, but it’s been going on way too ****** long, and I just can’t let it go anymore.

So, today I went to the store and bought a new bottle of shampoo and Nair. Now, originally, I was just going to put the Nair in the shampoo and put in the shower and wait for what’s going to happen. But, to be fair, I already know for a fact that he would use it. So, I was nice and added: “[MY NAME]. DO NOT USE. THANKS” on the bottle with a Sharpie. Now, only time will tell what happens. (Fun fact: this dude ****** loves his hair. He’s in the bathroom admiring it every other time I see him.)

Update: Okay, so he actually hopped in the shower a lot sooner than I expected. So, naturally, I wanted to see if he used any, and I took a shower after him.

The weird thing is, the shampoo bottle is now super watered down. Either the two substances made each other watery, or he dumped a lot of it out and added water to it. I’m not sure why he would do that unless: a) he found out it wasn’t normal shampoo. Maybe he felt the burning sensation on his head after he put it on or some hair did start falling off but not a lot of it. OR, b) he was p*ssed that I wrote something on the bottle asking him not to use it, and out of passive aggression, he just dumped a bunch out and added water to it as a way to say ‘*** you.’ This dude is sort of on the psycho side, so I have no idea.

Small Update: He started smoking in his room after the people who are on the lease left. Tonight is the first time it’s been bad enough that you can smell it from the living room. Could possibly mean he used it, found out, and is now super p*ssed off. Or just a coincidence, hence the small update.

Guys, I understand that kicking him out would be the best solution, but it’s not as simple as that. I’m not on the lease; the people who leased it to me are not in the country. On “paper,” he has as much as a reason to be living here as I do. How do you think that’s going to turn out when I contact the police? Not only that, but I’ve only had extremely horrible experiences with police in my life.

I don’t expect them to help me in this situation and would probably end up kicked out as well with my luck.

Also, I looked up my state laws, and there are squatter rights after someone has been living somewhere for more than 30 days, which means that I can’t just kick him out right away. Meaning if I had told him to get the *** out, he wouldn’t have to for quite a while, enough to make my life much more miserable than it already is. I wasn’t sure about this law, but enough people posted about it that I did indeed look it up just to know for my own sake.

Probably last update: After work, I decided to see if the shampoo’s been moved or anything.

Turns out, he purchased one of those toiletry bottles of shampoo, and it was sitting on the counter of the bathroom. I’m concluding that he tried to use the shampoo I put there yesterday and realized it was awful for his hair/wasn’t normal shampoo. Given how many times he walked into the bathroom last night, I hope it at least messed up his hair a little bit, so he stops taking my *** (and my roommate’s and anyone else he lives with in the future), but when I saw him last night, it wasn’t incredibly noticeable. Swing and a miss. Sorry if I let you guys down. Didn’t think this would get so much attention.” psychyness

Another User Comments:

“What you want to do is put the Nair in the conditioner.

Nair has to “sit” for at least 3 minutes before its hair removal properties begin to work!

Source: am girl, use Nair.” Left_Middle_Right

3. Bring A Girl Home The Night Before My Exam? I’ll Keep You Awake

“Preface: I have 2 roommates, one who was away on a cruise for the weekend, and the other who is 18 and works at a strip club and doesn’t go to college. This story is about the second roommate who is honestly one of the dumbest girls I’ve ever met, so her name shall be “Dumb ****.”

Last night, I was up until past midnight after being awake since 6 am working and doing homework before finals and such. I was exhausted. I fell asleep with dreams of kittens frolicking in my head when, what felt like 20 minutes later, I heard the loud bang that signals the front door slamming shut.

Taking a quick look at my alarm clock, I see the time at a glorious 5:18 am. I am not amused.

Now, Dumb **** works the night shift as a cocktail waitress at The Penthouse Gentlemen’s Club, so she often gets in at 4 or 5 in the morning on weekends. Fine. I’m a college girl; I like to party as much as the next, and I’m usually passed out by the time she gets home, so she rarely bothers me.

But tonight was different. It was a Sunday night, and being the dumb **** that she is, she decided to bring home one of her stripper friends and scream and laugh at the top of their lungs while taking copious amounts of shots.

Now, I’m 21, I’ve had my fair share of all-nighters, but I had an exam the next morning and needed to sleep. Since she doesn’t go to school, she has no respect for my other roommate and I’s class schedules. I asked her nicely to please be quieter because the boyfriend and I had class in the morning, and they were being louder than they thought. My reply was to be blissfully ignored until 7 in the morning when they finally passed out. That was when I decided to take my revenge the next morning.

Her stripper friend was sound asleep on Roommate 1’s foldout bed in the living room, which is right next to the kitchen. (Remember, Roommate 1 is out of town, so she didn’t ask to use it.

Rude.)

Being the healthy person I am, I decided to make a nice loud breakfast for my boyfriend and I bright and early at 9 am, “accidentally” dropping pans and silverware. I was so clumsy this morning! That’s when I saw the pile of dirty dishes in the sink. I couldn’t just leave them there! So, I decided to wash those as noisily as possible. At this point, Stripper Girl is tossing and turning and pulling the pillow over her head to try and block out all of the “accidental” noise I was making. The boy toy and I enjoyed a nice breakfast of egg sandwiches and bacon before I finished the grand finale of my master plan.

Our dishwasher is loud. I mean loud enough to wake the neighbors on a calm night.

Being as I had just finished doing all of the dishes in the sink, the dishwasher was full. I couldn’t leave a bunch of dirty dishes in the dishwasher all day because God knows Dumb **** wasn’t going to turn it on!

I gave the biggest sh*t-eating smile to my boyfriend and turned that bad boy on because clean dishes.” Kambria_Lynn

 

2. Cause Me To Fail An Exam? I’ll Mess With The Wifi

If he would have just cooperated and been a reasonable roommate…

“I lived off-campus during my junior year of college with two others. Roommate 1 was a jolly guy who had a good head on his shoulders. He was respectful, went to class, did his fair share of household chores, and was an overall pleasant human being and is someone I still call a very good friend to this today.

Roommate 2, well…where do I begin?

Roommate 2 was respectful to an extent, until becoming loud and aggressive with individuals he disagreed with. He never went to class, never cleaned (even though he was home 24/7), wasn’t really that pleasant, and is someone I’m glad I’ll never (hopefully) have to deal with again.

I’d leave for class around 8 am just to come back around 2 pm to find him still asleep. Other times, I’d come back and hear the blasts of lasers and the trademark swishing of a lightsaber which meant he was playing some online Star Wars game on his laptop all day. That ****** game. I don’t know why, but that piece of *** game made my ***** boil. Maybe because it was old, and his intensely focused enthusiasm on something so low-tech, insignificant, and underwhelming just p*ssed me off to no end.

The wretched stenches that permeated off of his body were vile and rank. He would go days without showering, and the smells would linger. He also had a fetish for interrupting me while I was busy studying just to ask stupid questions. He once asked me if the word “layer” as in “I baked a layer cake” was spelled the same way as “lair” as in “I’m Batman, look at my secret lair.” I could only put up with that for so long.

Lastly, he always stayed up late since he never went to class and would play that God d*mn Star Wars game on full volume while screaming at the top of his lungs. Thankfully, my girlfriend at the time lived close by, so I’d spend a few days a week there just so I wouldn’t have to deal with Roommate 2 and his antics.

And yes, Roommate 1 and I had plenty reasonable talks with Roommate 2, but he didn’t care, even being at the ripe age of 26….

The straw the broke the camel’s back was when I had a BIG exam next morning for a class I was struggling in. My girlfriend was away at the time, and Roommate 1 was at his girlfriend’s house. I had no choice but to bite the bullet and take the chance of staying home and hoping for a good night’s sleep. I told Roommate 2 about my exam and to just be courteous while playing video games or whatever.

I lay down and fell asleep…

“Pew pew pew pew pew pew pew pew pew!!!!!” “Swish vrom vrom vrooom vroom vrooom!” “COME ON…..****** KILL HIM…..YES…HAHAHAHAHA!”

I was awoken just a mere hour into my slumber to him playing that ****** game.

I texted the ***** and told him to keep it down. He said, “Ok,” and I went to bed….. Nope.

This pattern continued until I finally got up at 4 am to talk to him. I said what I had to say, he returned some passive-aggressive comments since my other roommate wasn’t home, and I just went back in my room and studied more seeing how I wasn’t going to bed at all.

The time came; I took the test and failed. I got home to be met with the usual horrid stench, complete squalor, and the sound of that ****** game.

I’d had it.

After doing some snooping around, I found the username and passcode for my house’s wifi router. (Roommate 1 had them in his room.) I grinned ear to ear as I soon realized what I was going to do.

After class the next day, I went right home, walked immediately into my room, logged into the router, and waited for Star Wars *** to emerge. I was never more excited for him to play that ****** game. I kept refreshing the page until I saw his computer was connected. I waited 10 minutes….then….boop! I restricted his internet access just like that. No more Star Wars for him.

You should have seen this guy plug and unplug the router. He was frantic. He couldn’t figure out what went wrong. He asked if I had internet, and I obviously said no and that “It must be a faulty router…” After an hour of euphoric payback, I turned it back on because, unlike him, I had some school work to do and didn’t want my revenge to negatively affect me.

But I wasn’t done there.

Guess what went off every night at 11 pm? Yup.

Guess what stayed off every day until 2 pm? Yup.

Guess what was off when I left to be with my girlfriend for a few days? Or home for the weekend? Or when I just felt like it…? Yup.

I let Roommate 1 in on the revenge. We’d take turns controlling the wifi, so if one of us wasn’t around, the other could continue without a hitch.

Roommate 2, being the complete moron that he was, never thought to actually call the internet provider. Being the complete narcissistic and delusional b*stard he was, he got his Star Wars fix by playing it in the campus library. Who would have thought? He actually went there for something.

I’m not sure how the ACTUAL students felt about that though….

For the remainder of that year, Roommate 1 and I continued ****** with wifi, and he hadn’t the slightest clue. In fact, that made living there more livable since his time spent off-line was time spent on cleaning up and being a responsible human being.

“Your eyes can deceive you. Don’t trust them.” – Obi-Wan Kenobi

Should have taken his advice, ***.” Source

1. Be Dishonest? We’ll Kick You Out And Get You Into Both Legal And Financial Trouble

“This story goes back to the early 2000s when cellphones were slowly getting smaller with flip phones, but the Nokia phone still reigned supreme.

I was in a large college where the student population made up 2/3rds of the actual town it resided in.

I had moved into a place off-campus after finding out over the summer that the place I originally had was utterly screwed over, and I had to scramble to find a new place. My buddy Dave suggested that I move into the apartment complex he’s been living in, and since he worked also to cut down on his rent, he’d put in a good word for me. I thanked him profusely and knew that we’d have good times.

The guy I was moving in with was a big pothead from NJ. I’ll call him PH for short. PH is from a wealthy family in NJ with some seeming connections to the mafia. PH and I had originally been slotted to be roommates in the first place, but because PH had done some shady ***, we lost the house and were forced to scramble.

Being the nice person I am, I gave PH the contract for him to sign separately so that our rooms, while technically connected, I was no longer on the same lease as him. Strike 1 for PH for screwing me over on housing and making me panic, but I knew something shady was up, so I kept the contracts separated.

Come August, we both move in with my buddy Dave helping me out as he had stored my stuff at his parents’ house. Dave was a Godsend and to this day is still a good buddy of mine. Most of the furniture in the place was cheap but owned by the complex, which was great since I didn’t have any as I moved from the dorms the previous year.

The room had a bathroom connected to it and then another door that connected to a common room/kitchen area. PH would often sit in that room watching TV and smoking green stuff.

I’m mostly an introvert, so I would often be in my room studying or playing video games. I had also bought myself a TV card, so I could watch TV on my computer; this comes in later. What amazed me was that PH never seemed to go to classes, and I later found out why: he had been put on academic probation for failing classes his sophomore year and was taking classes at the local JC to make up the credits and boost his grades.

Over time, I had also suspected that PH was going into my room without permission.

Because of fire codes, the doors connecting to the common room weren’t allowed to have actual locks, just the sh*tty bathroom door locks that can be unlocked with a wire. How did I know he was in there? The smell of “green” seemed to follow him, and the stink seemed to be in my room when I would get back from class.

I would also find random glasses or plates in my room as well as evidence of food. PH would up and deny it, until one day, class let out early, and I found him sitting in my room watching TV on my computer. I flipped out and asked what the *** he thinks he’s doing. His TV busted a few weeks ago and had been using my computer to watch TV.

I told him he wasn’t allowed to go into my room when I wasn’t here. He agreed, and that was the end of it.

On another day, I came home early again from class and saw a delivery guy at his door. This was weird as I knew PH was constantly strapped for cash as he would usually spend the money his dad gave him on “green” every month. It was one of the places I usually ordered from, and it looked suspicious when I saw that PH signed a little slip of yellow paper showing that he paid with a credit card. PH didn’t have a credit card as he didn’t believe in them, nor did he have them since his dad usually gave him cash.

At the time, my parents had given me a dining card which was basically a pre-loaded debit card that you could use at local restaurants. The fact that my account had suddenly started running low and that him signing the yellow slip tipped me off to something odd going on. A quick check into my account, and yep, I found that he had been using my card for food on days that I was in class.

I confronted PH about it and told him I’d go to the cops if he didn’t pay me back for the food he bought off of my card. He gave me $75 in cash and then handed me his paintball gun set. I cooled down, but I knew that he had to go.

He was eating my food, using my meal card, on my computer, and just generally being a *** to me.

The Revenge: I was really into computers at the time and Dave and I both were into gaming. I told Dave all about what was going on after a night of drinking and we started devising a plan to take down PH. We decided to work in phases. The first was to lock him out of things I didn’t want him using anymore.

Since I couldn’t lock PH out of my room, I could sure as *** lock him out of my computer, so I secretly set up a bios password that I only knew. This would ensure that PH would not be able to bypass my OS, and the only thing he could do was turn the computer on and off.

I also started storing my food in Dave’s room for the time being and let Dave have free reign on it since he was helping me out so much.

Dave had access to all kinds of things as he was one of the maintenance people on site. He knew how to hack, and his boss taught him how to pick locks, even as far as giving him a lock-picking set and old locks to practice on. Dave was able to get into the main office and find out if PH had been current on his payments, which he hadn’t, then also found out that PH owed a crap ton of money to the university, but they had no way of knowing where he is as he didn’t give them his current address.

Dave then lock-picked into PH’s room and found his “green” stash, took pictures of it, then quietly went on his way, locking the place back up as if nothing was out of place.

With that all squared away, and the mounting evidence we had on PH regarding use of illegal substances, credit card fraud, skirting debt and failing to pay for his room on time, Dave and I come to the front office and present all of the information + pictures (would be hearsay but could be used by police for probable cause since his room constantly smelled of “green”) to the head of housing.

Since this was a corporately owned apartment complex, legal was brought in, and we had a nice long conversation about PH.

PH was fined heavily by the complex and was evicted from the premises. Since he hadn’t paid his rent in over a month plus complaints, they filed the eviction notice and had the local police deliver it. Surprise, surprise to find that the room smelled of “green”, and after a carefully placed tip to them, they found his stash. Unfortunately, he was able to place bail, but still, having that on him made it so he would have a criminal record.

Because he went to jail, in the state we were in, the police allowed the apartment complex to go into his room and take what they could to gain back what rent he hadn’t paid. They were going to seize it anyways as they were allowed to as part of the federal asset seizure program, but the stuff wasn’t worth their time.

We also called the university and told them where his dad lives (since he had told me one night and gave me the full address as part of the rental agreement before) and had them use their credit agencies to go after him.

I wasn’t surprised to no longer see PH after that, but he did call me up one day and asked if I could hold onto his mail. He promised me he’d be back in town in three months with the promise that if he wasn’t there, I could take whatever was leftover and could toss out his mail. Knowing that PH was a flake, I knew that he would never be back, so I kept his stuff regardless and sold what I could and trashed the rest.

As part of the mail, I did find an open letter that showed how much he owed the school. I doubt he’ll ever make that money back, but since his dad is connected, maybe he will.

Anyways, Dave and I never saw PH ever again and I had a new roommate come February. I guess PH moved back to NJ in with his parents but he basically cut all contact with everyone that he knew in the town.

Dave and I still joke about it to this day.” Dfiggsmeister

If you have yet to have a roommate as bad as any of the previously mentioned,  consider yourself lucky. Sometimes it just shocks me that humans don’t know what common decency is, you know? Regardless, I’m all for roommate revenge if I know deep in my heart that they deserve it.

What would you do if you had a bad roommate? Share your perspective in the comments below.