People Tell-All About The Ferocious Revenge They Got On A Tough Guy
23. Think You Can Torment A Girl Half Your Size? This Momma's Gonna Step In
“So I took my two young sons to the local water park yesterday. They had a blast. I stayed in the lazy river most of the time with them. I tend to stay about 10 to 20 yards behind them. Close enough to keep an eye on them, but far enough for them to have fun.
I’m minding my own business, floating in the lazy river, when suddenly, a wild bully appears.
Cue 10-year oldish husky boy who’s following around a much smaller girl. I’m observing over the course of a few laps of the river as this little turd boy is constantly teasing and intimidating this little girl that’s like half his size.
I lap them. I’m now right behind victim and bully, my own sons constantly in my view, and I get close enough to hear the bully talking trash to his victim, trying to get her to leave the pool.
She’s visibly scared and trying to get away from him. There are no accompanying adults with these children. This is when I see the bully take a mouthful of water and flat out spit in the girl’s face.
At this point, I’m like YOU DID NOT, and I go into action. Things are crazy and hectic because we’re surrounded by people in a loud water park so I know I can get away with this.
Just loud enough for him to hear me, I say to the bully from behind him, “Hey!” Bully turd turns around, and I proceed to go full E. Honda palm splashing right in his face. After about 6 seconds of spashin’ Blastoise level water in his face, the bully is coughing, and the girl is 10 yards ahead near my sons. My work here is done.
I proceed to say nothing and pretend nothing has happened. Bully stands shocked, catching his breath in the lazy river as the hapless watergoing masses float past, oblivious.
Ten minutes later, the bully is gone, and the victim has returned to merriment.
I think the lifeguards saw me and just didn’t care.
10/10 would recommend.”
22. This Bully Victim Bites Back Hard
“The two months I spent in 6th grade was anything but pleasant. Scary new school, new kids I didn’t know because it was a city school instead of county, new teachers, and more importantly, a brand new principal who was serving his first year in that position.
The school was set up with floors, the 6th graders on the top floor, 7th on the middle, 8th on the main floor along with the cafeteria, gymnasium, band and choir rooms. Kids were expected to be able to travel to and from classrooms and floors as needed on their own for the first time.
Now gym was never a favorite class. I had asthma, and strenuous activity didn’t help that condition any. I sat out with permission from certain things, and the gym teacher aka ‘Coach’ Mr. Max was a wonderful man who understood completely and even waved off a doctor’s note for it. After a week or so, we played ‘free for all dodgeball’ for the first time.
Unlike normal dodgeball, there was no line you couldn’t cross, so it was absolute anarchy of children running and screaming and throwing rubber balls at each other. That was when I formally met my new and shiny bully, Ron, who was at least three times my size and twice my height. He was a BIG kid. He looked me over, grinned, and full-on punched me square in the side of the head instead of hitting me with the ball.
Then it escalated. He was also a 6th grader, and we shared some classes, gym, and band. In band, I’d get smacked in the back of the head with a trombone slide, punched or shoved in the gym or a hallway, and then finally one fateful day, he picked me up off the floor and TOSSED me down the stairs from the third floor.
I only sprained a wrist and chipped a tooth, thankfully, but my mother went beyond ballistic when I finally fessed up to the bullying, and a new friend confirmed it. She brought me into school the next day and requested a meeting with the principal.
The meeting went just as bad, and since a teacher hadn’t seen the exchange, and -I- hadn’t seen myself getting picked up from behind he couldn’t do anything about it and it was likely a case of “He just has a crush on you.” Mom promptly went home, registered me for homeschooling through a private school, and told me I had a month until I was going to be leaving permanently.
And to “Give that little jerk a nightmare, baby.” So I did just that.
My moldy science experiment? The bag was opened, wiggled into his locker at the gym, and squeezed to empty it out onto his clothes. An anthill collected and poured into his backpack during class, I batted my eyelashes and begged him to let me do his history report for him if he’d stop hitting me… I purposely made it absolute garbage to get him a bad grade.
Then came the coup de grace. I went to Coach Max and asked if we could play free for all dodgeball one last time since I was leaving and ‘loved it so much,’ and he agreed, which meant less work for him after all, and so the game commenced. I knew Ron would hunt me down to hit me somehow again, only this time the tables had turned. I dove for the first ball I found, scanned the carnage for him, ran up to him with a vindictive grin, pulled my leg back and as hard as my tiny body could, and slammed my foot right into his crotch.
He thumped to the ground with a horrific scream of agony, kids nearby stopped playing and ran for Coach Max, but that was not the end; I ripped my leg back and kicked him again in the face.
Coach saw the last kick, and naturally, called me off, helped the degenerate up, and off to the nurse’s office. Once there he through tears and yelling explained what I had done… the nurse grabbed the principal who grabbed me, sat me down, and demanded to know why I had assaulted a student.
“Sir, you said last month that him throwing me downstairs was a crush on me, right? I was returning the favor.”
He didn’t like that answer, apparently, and called my mother to come and get me and that I was suspended. My mother did, and since I only had three days left before the transfer, I never got to go back, and she never punished me for my two-ish weeks of being a bully.””
21. You Won't Get Away With Mistreating Me For Having ADHD
“The revenge is more or less carried out by my mother as I was too young at the time to do it myself.
To give some backstory, when I was in the first and second grade I was one of those “gifted” students, I was smart and had been offered to skip 2nd grade, although my parents chose not to.
However, I had severe ADHD.
This caused a lot of problems in my learning as I would get distracted incredibly easily. Once I got into 3rd grade, that is where the problems began. We will call my teacher Miss G.
So Miss G was a well-respected teacher at my school and she had tenure after teaching there for over 10 years. So needless to say, she was very problematic to get rid of.
We were a few weeks into the school year before we started learning about multiplication. Before the tests had started, she had pulled me aside for the 2 X multiplication test and told me it was the 1 X multiplication test. I was a bit confused, but I didn’t argue because she was the teacher.
As the first test went on she only announced, “Times 7, 3, 9, 2” and so on till she had covered 1-13.
She did not mention the original number that was being multiplied. There was also a large list above the whiteboard that showed who had passed each test. After we had gotten all the tests back, I saw that my name was the only one that had not moved to the 3 X test, putting the whole class above me. I was distraught and got taunted by my classmates.
I came crying to my teacher about how did I fail? She told me that there was no need to multiply by 1 for everything and that I didn’t pay attention and that it must have been my ADHD. It killed me as I assumed there was nothing I could do. I continued on with the tests without a problem, making my way to the top of the list.
However, during this time she had moved all the desks into 2 groups.
1 group had almost all the students and the other had about 5 of us. We figured out that we were the only students who took medication for ADHD or other learning disabilities like dyslexia. Miss G thought that we were stupid because we took medication or couldn’t do things fast enough. She believed that ADHD meds did nothing, and learning disabilities were not real and just an excuse to not pay attention or not do work.
She frequently called our group the “dumb pod” and would always be harsh to us whenever we asked questions.
Miss G would say things like, “What kind of question is that?” and “Why would you even expect me to answer your question?” I did not speak to my parents about most of this as I was scared of how my teacher would make my life worse if she found out.
My parents began to start to notice changes in my behavior. Such as when we would go to restaurants and I would color their kids menu pictures in rainbow colors and my dad would always keep crayons on him for it.
Well, I started coloring everything in black. I didn’t talk as much and was not excited about the things I enjoyed doing with my parents.
They tried to talk to me about it, but I didn’t say anything at first.
My grades dropped a lot and I began always feeling awful and worthless. One day, Miss G brought in her rottweiler to class and had chained it to the back of the classroom by the “dumb pod.” It had barked and growled at us for most of the day with it only being about a foot away from us.
I was terrified at this point, and a few days later, she was yelling at one of my friends in the “dumb pod” over a question he asked. He was crying and asked to go home. What happened after was horrifying. She took him out of his seat and sat him on the ground by her desk. She then placed a chair over him and sat on it.
The chair wasn’t directly on him, but she had trapped him under it and taught for another 30 minutes while he sobbed from under her. She would kick him if he sobbed too loud.
After this, I told my parents about all the stuff that was happening. My dad, who was a very non-confrontational person, didn’t want to believe it and was uncertain I was telling the truth because I had come to them with all the information at once.
However, my mom went into full mama bear protecting her cub mode. She confronted the administration with this information, and they did nothing and dismissed her as a crazy Karen.
My mom is incredibly smart and had studied in law school for a few years before picking another profession. So she started contacting all the parents of my friends and other students from the class.
She spoke with so many parents and got written statements from all of them and their kids.
One thing that still makes me feel terrible to this day is that one of my friends had stopped showing up to school and later on when my mom contacted his parents, they explained he had tried to hang and kill himself, and they didn’t know why.
My mom explained my situation and all the stuff about the teacher. His parents confronted my friend and he agreed that Miss G was the reason.
He was the one who was put under the chair.
My mom stacked all this information and united at least 15 parents. They brought this information to the school and before they heard all the information, they claimed my mom was a racist and didn’t like that Miss G was teaching her kid for that reason (Miss G was African American).
So my mom was just dismissed again.
My mom brought this information to the school board for our district, and they were appalled.
Miss G was immediately dismissed permanently. However, this gets better. Miss G apparently thought that she had done nothing wrong and sued the district for unfairly dismissing her. This brought up a huge case where all the evidence against her was brought forward.
She lost the case and was no longer allowed to teach in my state. Miss G also was not allowed on any of our district’s school grounds.
She was not able to even pick up her kids if they were on school grounds. As for the principal of the school, she was fired and replaced within a few weeks. All of us were moved to the other 3rd-grade class with a wonderful teacher until the school could get a replacement for Miss G.
I feel bad for Miss G’s kids, but she was a terrible woman who emotionally scarred many children. God only knows how many suffered from her before I did. In case you are wondering, I am much better now and almost out of college, thanks to lots of emotional help from my parents.”
20. Spread Lies About Me? Make Me A Sandwich
“The summer after freshman year of college (2009) I had a major, irreversible falling out with a very close friend I’d had since middle school.
I came back to town that summer amid her breakup with the guy she’d been with since we had all been friends. I refused to take sides — you know, cause people do grow apart, breakups happen. She did not like this and promptly lost her mind.
She’s always been a bit nutty but this pushed her over the line. She spread the word around town was that I was sleeping with her ex (irony: she actually slept with his best friend.) Her vicious little sisters and other former friends harassed me nonstop… calling me dozens of times, leaving horrible messages, showing up at my work, fun stuff like that.
Her ex wanted no part in the drama and didn’t bother to back me up.
I called her to reason with her. Huge life lesson learned: you can’t convince crazy that it’s crazy. So my parting words were something along the lines of, ‘I’m sorry you feel that way but I’m not sorry that in the end, this will not matter to me.
I made it out of this town and will be doing something productive with my life. In a year from now, 5 years from now, and so on, you’ll still be here, miserable and doing exactly what you’re doing now, partying with the same people, working the same job, and going nowhere.’
Every time I go home to visit family, I put on a favorite outfit and swing by the same Subway near our childhood homes.
I make that jerk make me a sandwich. I get such revenge by correcting her by saying, ‘No, no… lite mayo. Thanks!’”
19. Think You're Such A Big, Bad Bully? I'll Befriend A Girl Who's Meaner Than You
“So, I was bullied badly my freshman year in high school. It was literally the stupidest thing ever. If I even dropped a pencil on the floor in class, my bullies would find a way to mock my stupidity until the whole class was laughing. And I’m sitting there like, I dropped a pencil on the floor; how is this even funny? They were ruthless, consistent, and everyone was afraid to befriend me.
I would cry in the bathroom daily. I became very depressed, and I just allowed it to destroy that year for me.
In my school, for freshmen and sophomore year, you take all your classes with the same group of 25 students.
I got a new class sophomore year, was feeling less depressed after a long summer break and suddenly really wanted to make friends. But my 2 bullies were also in my sophomore class and immediately started convincing all these new kids to hate me as well.
But I was no longer depressed, and I understood that my bullies were annoying, and kids were only laughing because kids are mean, and it’s fun to pick on people. So, I made a plan.
I looked around the class and found the chick who was meaner and ruder than even my bullies (I know because she joined in a few times). Imma call her Mean Chick.
Mean Chick is real protective of her friends. I spent about 6 weeks slowly sliding in through the back door of her clique. (It’s really hard to be mean to someone who is consistently nice to you.) And then one day, she called me over to her lunch table ON HER OWN because she wanted to tell me a joke, and I knew, I just knew, I was finally done with part one of my master plan.
At the same time, I was quietly making acquaintances with a few people in the popular clique who were on my sports team but didn’t know I was bullied. This had to be very, very lowkey, or my bullies would have spread rumors to them. After I got them used to joking around with me for a few minutes every day, part two was done as well.
So, the next day in class, I purposely dropped a pencil on the floor when the teacher left the room. I quietly allowed my bullies to start loudly and annoyingly berating me, and after a few minutes, Mean Chick just flips out. Like curses them out, calls them all types of names, tells them they’re super annoying, and to just shut up already because no one cares.
Like my bullies are red-faced and literally 3 seconds from crying, and the whole class is laughing and saying stuff like, “Finally someone told them to shut up.” And I’m sitting there laughing right along with everyone else.
And when they came into the cafeteria one period later, I made sure they saw me laughing and joking with my new “popular friends,” who actually introduced me to them as their “track bestie,” then promptly dismissed them to finish our conversation.
Their face was so shocked LOL.
AND from then on, I was never bullied again in high school. In fact, my bullies all pretended from that moment on that we were great friends until the moment we graduated.”
18. You Won't Bully Again After This
This maltreatment ends, once and for all.
“In the late 70s and early 80s, I went through elementary and middle school in a small west TX town. I was the socially awkward kid with only a few friends so I pretty well kept to myself. I remember my bullies well … all of them but this one butthead in particular … Larry. Larry thought he was some world-class TV wrestler and loved to try his moves on me.
I got my butt beat at least once a day. My step-dad only told me to carry an equalizer … teachers and such only told me to report the incident. I opted for the less violent and reported the beatings. Instead of being vindicated I was ridiculed and punished for fighting even though I never threw a punch. When I told my step-dad he simply said …
‘I told you to walk tall and carry a big stick’ At the end of my 8th-grade year we moved to a larger city … all new people in new schools … this was my chance to change the way the world saw me. I refused to play the victim any longer.
Things went well that summer and into the start of my 9th-grade year. I had friends …
lots of friends … and I am sure I made a few enemies as well but mostly good times with good friends. Then it happened! I was sitting in my TX History class when the new kid was brought in and was seated directly behind me. There he was … with his pig nose, fat butt messed up hair, and body odor … wearing his favorite t-shirt with some stupid wrestling stuff on it …
Larry Garrett. At first, I decided to just ignore him but he had the crazy idea that we small towners needed to stick together … I gave him the benefit of the doubt and we became ‘friends’ for a brief moment.
The tensions started to appear pretty quickly and he started his same old played-out nonsense again. The teacher had to leave class for a few minutes and he thought that was a perfect opportunity to start messing with me.
First, he hit me in the arm … then the gut … then he sat down feeling satisfied that he had just shown our classmates how much of a wuss I really was. That was his mistake … I remember flipping his desk with him in it causing him to hit his head on the wall. The last thing I remember was kicking him and that is when the teacher walked back into class.
We were sent to the office for punishment … he was behind me as we were walking and at one point he got close enough to kick one of my legs in an effort to trip me. It was about that moment in time that the head principal walked around the corner towards us and saw what happened … I didn’t see him though … as I caught my balance in one smooth move turned and knocked that jerk down … right in front of the principal.
Obviously, we were escorted the rest of the way, and parents were called. The biggest thing that upset the principal was that I was smiling the entire time I got paddled while Larry cried like the little wuss he was (and presumably still is). His parents moved him to a private school and I never saw him again.”
17. Bullies Don't Like To Be Bullied Back, But That's Okay
“I’m Edgar Gierbolini, and I’m from San Juan, Puerto Rico.
I remember the beginning of high school – it was ninth grade – and going from elementary school, middle school to high school, it was such a huge, different world.
We went to a big high school, and we had this big quad where everyone had to cross across this, like, park/garden area to get to everyone’s classes. There was this group of folks we always – we called “The Kickers” because of the cowboy boots that they wore. They huddled, kind of in a corner, and every time people would pass through the quad, they would just catcall people, and especially me, either because I swished, or I walked a little bit, or I talked a bit with a lisp.
But I remember one in particular: this guy he would catcall, me and he would be like, “Hey, (homophobic slur)!” Or he would start doing kissing noises to me. “Hey. [Kissing noises]. Come over here.” I always felt so cold and angry, and I wasn’t sure why. It just, it drove me crazy. I would tell my friends, and I really wasn’t sure what to do about it.
I lived in kind of this weird fear and shame because of it. So me and my little core group of friends, we would chat about it, and we knew it was an issue. And he bullied other people and did the same thing to them.
I remember it was Environmental Science class, not the most exciting class ever. And there in class, my friend Erica, she whispered to me, you know, next to the chair, and she was like, “Hey,” and out of her bag, she pulls like the biggest roll of duct tape you’ve ever seen.
And I was like, “What is that for?”
She goes, “Get a hall pass, and meet me outside.”
So I get a hall pass, and I meet her outside, and she goes, “Follow me.” We ended up at his locker, and she pulled out the tape. She says, “We’re going to tape up his locker.” So we started taping up his lock, on the lock, and by the time we were done – and it took both of us, so there’s always – one of us was watching the hallway while the other one kept wrapping his lock.
By the time we were done, there was this huge ball around, surrounding this lock.
So she’s like, “I think that’s good enough,” and we went back to class. The bell rang, class changed, and we found a spot that where we could look overlook the quad and also see his locker. So Erica and I stood up there, and we kept watch, and sure enough, he gets to his locker, and he had this – his normally ruddy cheeks turn blanched, you know, completely white.
He started jumping up and down like a little leprechaun, totally ticked off, like, “What happened?” and “Who did this?”
And his little cronies that always bullied other people with, he kept on messing with them, like “Did you do this? Who did this?” And somebody gave him like some kind of blade, and he still couldn’t cut it open because it was too big.
So he couldn’t change out his books for the next class. And Erica and I are laughing from the top watching this. And I remember feeling relieved and also empowered. It was the first time in my life I had taken a stand against someone that had done something against me.
He never bullied anybody else after that. He would look at me, and either he found out that I was a part of what happened to his locker or maybe not, but he’d look away.
He would be a lot quieter. The catcalling stopped in the quad, and nobody else got bullied by him and his group.
I think everyone has a bullying story, especially in our community, and I think it’s important for those people that are just now facing bullying to understand that, unfortunately, it’s a universal problem. Everyone faces that. It’s all about what your reaction to the action is.
And to this day, I can’t see a roll of duct tape without smiling and laughing and thinking it’s kind of a symbol of my own empowerment.”
16. Keep Targeting Our Family? We'll Scare You With The Cops
That’s all it took to get that little rascal off their back.
“I was recently reminded of a petty revenge I enacted about 10 years ago. At the time, I lived in an apartment with my partner and 2 tiny kiddos.
The way the apartment was configured my front door faced my neighbor’s front door. This apparently inspired their ~10-year-old daughter to spend her days messing with us. Some of her greatest include but are not limited to:
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Throwing rocks at my door and closing her door as a type of doorbell ditching, I suppose
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Putting empty boxes by my door, knocking, and closing her door (the boxes had her address and apartment number, real smart)
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Being noisy and banging on our shared walls
These were near-daily occurrences. Being young, and this being my first apartment, I didn’t want problems with my neighbors, so I just put up with it. My apartment manager didn’t care enough to get involved, even if I had reported it. (I went over a month without hot water because she didn’t care to get it fixed.) The kid’s parents never seemed to be around; they might have worked nights, not sure, but either way, I couldn’t talk to them.
I put up with all the shenanigans for quite a while, until one day, I notice my van had been scratched, and not accidentally. Child-like handwriting, shallowly scratched into my door that said something like, “You’re gonna die.” Now I’m angry.
One thing you need to know is the neighbor’s window is always open. Always. Every time I walk by, I can hear USA channel playing NCIS repeats.
I also know the little girl spies on us through that window. So I and my partner share a knowing head nod towards the open window and proceed to talk loudly about how the little girl is always messing with us, and she probably keyed our car and how we should call the cops on her. Not 20 minutes later, she knocks on our door and apologizes for messing with us, and says she will leave us alone.
We tell her we appreciate her apologizing and that all is forgiven.
She never messed with us again.”
15. Using The Power Of Technology To Get Back At A Bully A Decade Later
“Back in my high school days, I was the typical budding introverted male computer geek.
I was quiet, kept to myself, pretty much the stereotypical chess nerd who loved to read books and play video games. I had my share of bully stories and random kids who picked on me, but one particular uppity bee with an itch had it in for me. Let’s call her Valerie Battitude for the sake of this story.
I was in her scopes nearly every day for the 4 years I attended high school.
Val and her TeenGirlSquad group of friends would torment me ruthlessly to the point I attempted s*****e at a particularly low point in my life.
The constant name-calling, the snide remarks, questioning of my s*******y, the bullying never stopped even with administration intervention. High school wasn’t particularly bad for me, but it was Val who made my life a literal living nightmare. I was powerless because she was the queen bee and I had at least one class with her every semester.
High school ends, and I get my college degree. My career takes off, and I advance several times. Sadly, my company hits hard times, and I’m laid off along with most of my staff. Months turn into nearly a year as I’m waiting for my next job, but my emergency nest egg is getting low. In order to support myself, I take up an old part-time tech job working for my former employer.
He was glad to have me back, and I got to pick up some extra cash doing in-home tech work on the side while I continued the job search.
My boss gets a call from a long time client and sends me out to handle it. It’s pretty cut-n-dry on paper but after checking the name, it dawns on me that this client is the father of Valarie BAttitude.
I instantly have horrible flashbacks of all the torture I went through in high school. Realizing I’m not the same wimpy geek in high school, I swallow my hateful pride to knock on the door. Father BAttitude greets me warmly, and we briefly converse with idle chit-chat. I don’t let him on that I knew his jerk of a daughter nor that she was the bane of my existence in my high school days.
I do find out that his daughter is temporarily staying back at Papa’s home as she is out traveling the country for work. He had divorced from Mama BAttitude who took half his savings account over an unnamed incident that led me to believe she cheated on him. Clue #1: Figured out where Val got her Bad Attitude from.
We get down to business, and he explains his computer problem(s), the main issue being that the dinosaur of a PC is practically a relic of state-of-the-art fossil fuel by modern-day comparisons.
I quickly demise no amount of software repair and malware removal is going to fix the speed problem he’s facing. It takes a whopping 20 minutes to boot into the log-in screen, and I ball my fist into a tight ball when I see “Val BAttitude’s name as the secondary accounts on the Windows Login screen.
Shrugging it off, I recommend to Papa that getting a new computer rather than spending the hours it will take trying to get it back up to merely poor standards.
He agrees and wants ME to go with him to the store and pick one up… that day! I’m conflicted as this is the father of Rosemary’s Baby, but it’s obviously not entirely his fault his daughter is the bee with an itch… so I say, “What the heck” and agree. I call my boss, and he’s ok with me doing some consulting work over the PC repair he originally sent me on.
I’m off the clock on by my boss’s standards, and it’s off to XYZ Computer Store.
We are shooting the breeze at what he does for a living, but mostly it’s about how he is proud that his daughter is an entrepreneur for some startup company on the web and how she is constantly traveling the state and country.
I’m controlling my gag reflex from the puffy clouds and sparkly rainbows his daughter excretes.
How can he talk about the very same person that would knock my lunch into the ground and then “accidentally” step on it while looking at me in the eye and mock, “I’m sooooo sorry!”
We get to the store, and I find out through conversing with him and the sales associate that his computer we are replacing is actually Val’s old college computer that he recently commandeered while she was away.
Food for thought…
Enough technical jargon to sink a battleship and 3 hours later: Father BAttitude is the proud owner of a new top-of-the-line computer and wireless network system. I install the new PC and get it up and running along with the new printer, Wifi, multiple accounts setup along with windows remote access in case he needs my boss to log in for basic help (standard procedure).
I move onto installing the old hard drive for the data transfer and Father BAttitude has long since vacated the room to go watch TV elsewhere. My loath and disgust resurfaces as my eyes wandered across the documents of Valerie’s personal files. The data transfer starts reading off an odd file name that catches my eye. It doesn’t occur to me, given the source, just what I’m seeing skim across the screen, so I manually follow the path to said directory of her old, pathetically-encrypted hard drive.
The discovery of several thousand megabytes of personal naughty pictures and hardcore webcam videos halts me in my tracks.
This wasn’t the vastly gifted entrepreneur daughter Papa BAttitude had led on about. This was an aging webcam star who was out touring the country doing naughty things or hooking up with her latest fling.
My curiosity turned into disgust and contempt as I skimmed through several dozen more photos of freakish and occasional kinky stuff where she is degrading men or causing pain.
I have no problem in general with what someone does for a living. My thoughts were at that instant that this witch is using men and continuing to cause more pain even after high school. I had more reason to despise and hate her over anyone else… and I had her in the palm of my hands.
Wheels started turning. Daddy was obviously none the wiser to what his daughter did for a living, and my conscience started a personal war with my ego.
At one end was my willingness to exact revenge, and the other was my morale’s saying to forgive and let it go.
I settled on a happy medium that both sides gleefully agreed with. My fear of being sued or that I could get my boss into some serious trouble prevented me from going too far, so an evil little revenge scheme would have to suffice.
I uploaded all the files in question to my remote file server and got to work figuring out the best way to humiliate a domineering bee with an itch. Papa “Bee with an itch” was enthusiastically watching a game that would occupy him for a few hours, so I took the time to organized all her photos and videos onto her newly created desktop. Each folder got a unique fetish name as I filled each one with her personal pictures of shame and degradation.
I started to get more and more creative as I began to have fun with it. “Valerie of XXHS class of XXXX takes on 2 guys at her Daddy’s home,” or “Watch Valerie BAttitude get DPed on her parents’ bed.” I was cackling with glee as I rigged the coup de gras. None of the files could be deleted/changed/removed without administration approval. Guess who had that!
MWAHAHAHAHAAH!
Two weeks later, I get THE phone call I was waiting for from my boss. Father BAttitude requested that I take a look at his daughter’s login account as there was something wrong with it. The look on her face when I showed up at her father’s doorstep was priceless. Anger and rage quickly sunk into horror and regret as it dawned on her just who was behind all this.
The next half hour was mostly sobs and her saying “sorry” a thousand times over. I’m a softy at heart, but like Captain Malcolm Reynolds of Firefly says, “I’m a good guy… [stabs the guy in the gut]. Well, I’ll settle for just alright.””
14. The Bully Who Doesn't Like Gnomes
The kid should probably go to a therapist.
“Back when I was in middle school, there was this boy that lived across the street from me. Our parents were really good friends, so this led to us babysitting him and vice versa a lot.
Whenever he would be at my house, he would be a little jerk and break something, then run to tell my parents that I broke it, and naturally, my parents believed him. He did a lot more things to get me in trouble, but this is what he did most frequently.
One day when they were babysitting me, I got the idea of taking some of these little lawn gnomes similar to these but less expensive that I found at a flea market and putting them in his closet, under his bed, in the shower, etc…
wherever I knew he would frequently go. Then the next time I saw him, he would tell me how he kept finding them everywhere, and when he would give them to his parents, they would just say he was doing it for attention. Each time he found one, I would find a new hiding spot for it.
Then one night when I was sleeping over because my parents were going to be out really late and wanted me to go sleep earlier, I had a plan since I had already been torturing him for about six months with the gnomes I gathered many from my adventures at the local flea market.
Once he fell asleep, I quietly entered his room and put all the gnomes I had around him. There were dozens of them in his bed, all lined around him and by his face. The next morning, I am woken by the loudest and most blood-curdling scream I ever heard. I run in there to see what happened as a result of the gnomes, and he is sitting in the fetal position wrapped in his blankets repeating, “No more gnomes.
No more gnomes.” When his parents got in there, they finally believed all he said about the gnomes, while I sat there trying to hold back my laughter.
Fast forward to when we were in high school. Since I stopped hiding the gnomes a few years back, I was wondering if he was still frightened by them, so I grabbed a few of them and headed into school.
During our first class of the day, I excused myself and opened up his locker (very easy to break into; all you had to do was jiggle it a little bit), and on the shelf that was at eye level, I placed the gnomes in a line on the shelf. Then after the first block, I am walking to my next class, and I see him bolting from his locker to the nearest bathroom, and he was sobbing for the next half hour until a teacher could convince him to come out and talk about it.
He didn’t come to school for the rest of the week.
Looking back on it, I may have gone a little too far, but he tortured me for years before and after I started with the gnomes.”
13. Think I'm Ugly? The Only Ugly One Here Is You
And she even admitted it herself!
“I (16F) have a cousin (16F) whom I met just a couple of years ago. She and her mom are the biggest narcissists I’ve ever met. Her mother, when she was young, used to make fun of my mother, constantly berating her physical appearance.
So before the meeting, my mom actually warned me about their behavior. Bless her.
Well, this girl, on the very first day, made a rude comment about my nose being too big, eyes too small, etc. Now, I know I’m above the average, but these kinds of comments did make me insecure a little. She acted like she was the Lady Diana herself. Like, once she asked me to “cover the mirrors in my house when she comes over because after seeing her, the mirror’s standards would be too high, and the next time it sees me, it’ll shatter.”
The last straw was when she looked at my baby brother and said that HE is the reason she doesn’t want kids but what if her kids turned out just as ugly as him. Her mom kinda laughed awkwardly and told her that he looks exactly like me when I was younger. This girl went “ewwww” directly at my face. That’s it. That. Was. It.
My uncle asked for our childhood photos so that we could see if she was any cuter than me, and I was willing to show mine, but she was kinda hesitant. She said she didn’t have any. She doesn’t wanna show them? Okay, I know what I’m gonna do now!
I spent the whole weekend searching for her and my pictures and put them all in a photo album.
When the next time we had a family gathering, I asked for everyone’s attention and asked them to look at our old photos. Everyone was enthusiastic. I handed them the album, and on the very first page, there was a picture of me, a cute little teddy bear, and her, a crooked teethed monkey who looked like it had been marinating in car oil for 3 years straight.
Initially, she was like, “Ewww, that baby is really ugly,” but when she realized that it was actually HER, she was extremely embarrassed. Then she accused me of “editing” my pictures to look good and hers to look like that. Before I even had to say anything, my uncle went, “(Cousin), there’s no way she could edit these printed pictures from the 2010s. I don’t understand; you look EXACTLY LIKE THAT.” They all started laughing, and I finally got my revenge.
She and I don’t talk anymore, and I hope it stays that way.”
Another User Comments:
“For what it’s worth, I knew a girl like that in high school. Always super critical of everyone else, thought she was the best, etc.
She randomly started seeing one of my friends many years later, and I was dumbfounded. I was like, “You’re seeing HER?! She was a royal butthead!” He said, apparently, she got a big old slice of humble pie once she got to college and got hated on.
Chilled and mellowed out and was apparently a much better person overall in her late 20s.
Give it time. Maybe in a few years, you’ll be best friends and look back on this and laugh.” NorCalAthlete
12. Try To Intimidate Me On The Job? Lose Over Half Your Bartending Staff
Treat your employees well, and they won’t be as inclined to leave.
“For almost 20 years, I was in the service industry. It helped in a lot of ways but probably ended up sucking me into that lifestyle for too long. A large portion of my serving/bartending career was at a chain restaurant (think a House of Steak that isn’t In Front).
I had been with this establishment for around 5 years while going through college and starting a master’s.
I was working at my fourth location due to various moves for school. By this point, I was a server/bartender/trainer, and I had been approached multiple times about MIT (manager in training), but I politely declined. All of this to say, I felt like I had a pretty good standing and history with the company.
Well, one day, a guy, let’s call him Chad, who I personally disliked, started going through MIT.
Our mutual dislike started before my first day at work even, but to be concise, he was indirectly involved in a small confrontation between his friend, me, and the girl his friend was “talking to.” It’s actually a pretty funny story in itself- if this blows up or people are interested, I’ll tell it.
Chad had a massive superiority (or is it inferiority??) complex probably rooted in his height.
Not trying to be a jerk or insensitive, but it’s my best guess. And although we maintained civility at work, I’m pretty sure we were both aware that we didn’t like each other.
For several weeks, probably at least two months, bartenders weren’t making money. For context, the bar area had around 9 booths arranged around the “U” shaped bar in the center.
But bartenders weren’t allowed to take those tables; only guests seated at the bar. After several weeks of walking with $40-$50 (including our bar tip out from servers) on a weekend shift, we all began pleading with management to help us. I know I and others asked for them to let us have at least a couple of tables in the bar lounge; we’re talking 10 feet from the bar.
Given that bartending was something you almost always had to work up to (start at server, do well you have a shot of moving up), we all felt like we had demonstrated the ability to handle the tables and not allow drink times or bar guests to suffer, especially as the actual bar was pretty dead most weekends, seeing as we were making so little.
So we were all offended to some degree, feeling like it was a double slap in the face of, “We don’t care about you not making money,” and “We don’t trust you to handle lounge tables.” Morale was low.
One day, after we’ve voiced our concerns to deaf ears when the bar was of course slow, Chad basically orders me to do something like count inventory or some other busywork.
At the time, I was batching drinks and doing bar upkeep, partially because when we got it done there was a decent chance one of us would be cut. Being cut meant 1) person cut isn’t wasting time for little pay, 2) person staying makes more money.
So I kind of clipped back something like, “I’m not doing that; I’m busy doing things at the bar.
If you want it done, you should do it.” At this point, I’m angry because from my perspective, we’ve been pleading with them to help us. They told us to get lost. Now you’re wasting our time even more with stuff that isn’t really our job responsibility. All while you literally stroll around the restaurant doing… nothing.
Chad, trying to flex his new MIT position, says, “If you’re gonna have that attitude, you can clock out and go home.” He clearly wasn’t expecting me to simply go, “Ok” and immediately clock out.
I turned to the other bartender told them I was being sent home and I’m sorry.
Now what Chad and the rest of management didn’t know was that by pure chance, I had run into a former bartender that left months ago when things had started to go south. She was at her new serving job and told me she was making great money.
So the very next day, I applied and used her as a referral. I got the job and immediately put in my two weeks at the house of steak.
My proprietor sat me down at my next shift and basically attempted to make amends and ask if I was leaving because of Chad. I said no; I was leaving because we weren’t making money, and y’all refused to help us, which is true.
The Chad stuff was annoying, but I’ve never been a person unable to work with those I don’t personally like.
Well, when the rest of the bartending staff heard about me leaving, they were curious about my new job. I told them the truth. I was making great money, and they’re hiring.
Within two weeks, six of my former bartending crew left and got hired at the new job.
Within another couple of weeks, a few more joined. The house of steak lost about 70% of their bartending crew and a few servers in the space of a month.
They were definitely not pleased, mostly at my new manager as, “that’s just something you don’t do” but not at me. And wouldn’t you know it, a month later, bartenders are allowed to take lounge tables.”
11. I'll Get A Nicer Boss
“Many moons ago (mid-90’s) I worked for an ISP, not in US nor Europe, looking after various backend systems. There were 2 of us in the same team. What was weird is that they went through a mini-restructure, and we both had different bosses, even though we did the same work and shared the load between us. I was single at the time, and lived about 5 minutes’ drive from the office.
My official office hours were 8:30am to 4:30pm (becomes relevant later). Often stayed until after 7pm to do work, learn new UNIX things, troubleshoot major issues.
At some point I decided my old car was past it’s prime, so bought another one. I sent my boss a number of emails about how the following week I was going to take a longer lunch, as the car would be ready for collection / trading in old one.
I also told him about it twice the week before the collection date. CYA people. Day of collection, everything is great. Took 2 hours to get the paperwork all sorted out. Hoping car is an absolute magnet for the opposite s*x, off I go.
Two days later I get called into a meeting and get absolutely s**t on about why did I take such a long lunch, boss needed me for something but I wasn’t there (this was in days pre-mobiles being readily available).
I was upset. Tried to tell him I told him I was taking long lunch. Kept interrupting me and shouting over me. I left super annoyed.
Sooooo….
I started working my official hours. After the second day I get a phone call at home (company had numbers in case of emergency) at 5:00pm. It’s boss, asking where I am. Told him I’d left for the day and was at home about to fire up Red Alert on my PC.
He told me that was unacceptable and needed me to do something, how could I leave at this time blah blah. Shouted he’s getting HR involved. I told him it was unacceptable to talk to me like that, and we can address this issue the next day at work, and hung up on him (thanks Mom for helping me get a strong backbone to do that – nearly wet myself).
Next day HR, CEO and my boss call me into a meeting. I knew this was coming, and had printed off the emails about taking long lunch. Boss goes off at me about disrespect, lack of performance, taking long lunches etc. I showed the email, explained the situation, and asked what’s the issue? At this point I thought he was going to have a heart attack he was so angry and red in the face.
CEO asked me to leave the meeting, they would discuss.
Outcome was I got the same manager my co-worker reported into. Everything went back to being great. Karma being a jerk, my ex-boss actually did have a heart attack a few months later (he survived but changed his ways – a LOT less booze and smoking).”
10. Driven Crazy By Rubber Duckies
“To begin the story, I have to go back to the eighth grade when I first met this teacher. I don’t really blame her for having a bad opinion of me back then, because even as far as eighth-graders go, I was a little poop. Even I would’ve hated me back then. Her dislike toward me never really manifested itself through anything huge, but it was quite clear on a daily basis that she favored other students.
Sometimes she would grade my work a bit harder than that of other kids, and she would occasionally yell at me. Whatever. Eighth grade ended, and I assumed I would never have to deal with her again, and her with me.
However, junior year rolled around, and I realized I had a choice to make: continue on my AP history route and have this teacher, or stop taking AP history and have a different teacher, who’s special in his own ways.
Because I figured I’d matured a bunch since eighth grade and because I am a fairly good student, I figured I’d try out her class: AP US History. Man, was this a big mistake.
To go from the teacher I’d had the gear prior in AP World History to my new teacher was a very interesting transition. My AP World teacher was arguably the best teacher I’ve ever had, though she thought the class very hard.
Whatever though – I still scraped a 90 in the class and a 4 on the exam. But, my new teacher was the opposite. She would sit at her desk and eat and give us assignments to do independently. On Black Friday, she even sat at her desk and shopped. At the end of the first semester, we had counted, and she had only gotten in front of the class and taught twice.
On top of this, she had taken a dislike to me again, though this time very unfairly. For me, it was an easy A+ class, and I never did anything that should have angered her, but everything I did seemed to rub her the wrong way.
Eventually, her dislike toward me and her unfair grading and treatment of me pushed me to a dislike towards her, and the rest of the class shared my opinion.
After a while of thinking, and a while browsing Reddit, I came up with a plan. The next day, I bought 50 rubber ducks off of Amazon and began to form my plan. Every day, I hid a rubber duck in a different spot in her classroom. For about two weeks, she never said anything to our class, but when we said something about the numerous ducks in various visible places around her room, she exploded.
For whatever reason, the ducks drove her insane. For months she couldn’t figure out who it was, and every day in class, she would have something to say about the ducks, and it would end up wasting a good 10 minutes of class nearly every day.
Eventually, the school year ended, and she never figured out it was me. The ducks drove her insane, and my mission was accomplished.”
9. Teachers Get Payback In The School Parking Lot
“Back story (set in Australia early 1980’s).
Unfortunately, I am someone who was severely bullied by classmates from as early as primary school and had already been to two primary schools by the time I started high school.
I was a very intelligent child who was reading Dr. Seuss books on my own before I started primary school, so thanks to my advanced skills in reading, spelling, grammar, and comprehension, I would easily win spelling bees, get through my reading assignments, and many other subjects (including German as a second language) quite easily.
Though, math was and still is my weakness. This earned me a lot of bullying from my classmates which I would often report to the teacher, but this would earn me even more intensive bullying.
By high school, I was a bored student and this boredom led me to fail year 7 and need to repeat the year. I had been enrolled in a school further away in the hope that I wouldn’t have my primary school bullies in any of my classes.
But unfortunately, there were a few classmates from my first primary school that remembered me or had friends from my first primary school.
(Part 1) On to the story of why my expulsion came about:
Late November just 3 weeks before the end of the school year, I decided to wag (skip) class to avoid my bullies as I had taken to doing often because I didn’t want to go into class with red puffy eyes after another bout of crying due to being ganged up on by my tormentors during lunch break, coming back around 20 minutes before the end of the day bell to wait for the bike shed to be unlocked, so I could get to my bike (before I found the tires let down or slashed by my tormentors), I found a teacher waiting for me as he obviously knew that I had wagged his class that afternoon and that I had ridden to school that day.
He was a drama teacher, who everyone called Nick instead of the usual title of Mr., with spiky, punk, crazy-colored hair, casual fashionable clothes and relaxed attitude towards many students (including his pets), and he was very popular in the school. But he was possibly one of the worst of the teachers who allowed his little pets to torment me daily.
Nick put his hand on my arm gripping it quite firmly, demanding that I go to the principal’s office with him.
I pulled away from him and without swearing or using an insulting tone, just made it clear that I will be going nowhere with him and that as soon as the groundskeeper opens the bike shed, that I was going home. He grabbed hold of my arm again this time tighter and trying to pull me along with him. I escaped his grip again and this time I admit to swearing at him to keep his hands off me and that I will be going nowhere with him.
Again he grabbed at me, and this time, it hurt.
So having had done a few years of martial arts at the time, I defended myself by twisting out of his grip and using the heel of my hand against his chest very firmly pushing him several steps away from me.
The groundskeeper walked around the corner just at the moment I had pushed back at him.
The groundskeeper was asked by Nick to go get the principal because I was refusing to go to the office with him.
Of course, the groundskeeper did so. In the office (my mother was called and had arrived), and I was given the choice between expulsion with a letter to be sent to my next school or to leave willingly. I chose to leave willingly of course.
But as I went to interview after interview at several high schools, it became clear to me that after my interviews when my high school was contacted, that the principal was filling them in about what happened because I got several rejections and some rather leading questions about why I was leaving that high school.
After that, I decided it was better just to come clean with my side of the story before they contacted the high school for more information on me.
Finally got accepted to a high school on the condition that I would come to a teacher if bullied, or if I didn’t trust the teacher then to find a teacher, a year co-ordinator that I could trust or to come to him and that they would hear me out.
(Part 2)
Now onto the petty revenge:
It was necessary to finalize paperwork to formally exit that school as a student.
So because mom was working that day, I rode my bike there after lunch to get that done and get my revenge.
Being someone who was very observant over the years and the good luck that the teachers’ parking was right by the library, and I had always been able to see them leaving from where I would sit in the library after school often to hide from my tormentors after hiding my bike in some bushes, so they would think that I had gone ahead of them.
Well, these particular teachers of mine who always turned a blind eye to their little teachers’ pets bullying me always parked in their preferred spots, would walk out to their cars together, and start their cars within seconds of each other. So I had come to the school that final time with rotten eggs, baby potatoes, and toilet paper.
Hiding my bike in its usual spot, around 30 minutes before the end of the day bell, I then proceeded to put the eggs, baby potatoes, and toilet paper into the exhaust pipes of their cars.
Then I sat myself down in the same place as my bike and to pass the time I opened a book to read for a while and wait for the show about to start.
Well, the bell went, and out came all of the students to make their way home. Around an hour later, these particular teachers came out together to their cars and I could overhear their conversations which included some revolting things about me.
These teachers would park in a way that the boot (trunk) of their cars pointed at each other. They got in after saying their farewells and started their engines.
Oh, the resulting show was glorious.
Eggs, potatoes, and toilet paper shooting out of exhaust pipes hitting each other’s cars. The noise, confusion, and mess were hilarious. It was very difficult to stifle my giggles in my hiding spot.
I sat there until they went back into the building to get help and then I took off on my bike as fast as possible and went straight home.
This was at a time when schools didn’t have cameras everywhere for security, so there was no proof that I had done this. Of course, my parents were called, but I denied it for many years and only let my parents know 20 years later.
I have plenty of stories about my teachers, practical jokes and revenge on teachers and my tormentors.”
8. Don't Rely On Your Victim To Finish Your Group Project
“Back in my school days, we had to do a group project in geography that would count for 50% of our GCSE mark for the subject. At this point, I was out.
It was during section 28, and as such, I was ostracised by half the school and actively bullied by the rest. We were to go to groups of threes, and obviously, no one wanted to be in the group with the poof, but two other guys were left out in the cold, and we were forced together. There was a kid who spent his entire school experience drawing certain far-right symbols, tanks, and planes.
I actually liked this kid, he treated me the same as he did before I was outed and like he treated everyone else in the school. It says a lot about my school that a kid who would draw these symbols on everything was the least homophobic one there. The other guy was one of my bullies; he wasn’t the worst by a long long way, not even in the top ten, but he was the one who, during PE, took my school uniform dropped it in the toilet, took a dump on top of it, and flushed.
They left everything to me. The other boy (formerly known as Lotus Boy due to me being an idiot and not know the right terminology) didn’t even show up the day of the assessment (thankfully, I know he didn’t care about school at all, but I did not want to screw him over) Both Luke and I looked at each other like we were each expecting the other to produce the project.
We both exclaimed angrily that the other was meant to be doing all the work. The teacher was not amused; he gave us a week to come up with something, but since it would be late, we could only achieve a C. I took a chance and immediately told Luke that he had better work on it, and Luke replied that it was me who should be doing the work.
The ploy worked and my teacher told us that we would each need to produce something different and that we were no longer a group.
I turned my project in the next day, and the teacher was not amused, but I got a C, which dragged my grade down to a B for that class. Lotus Boy found it funny. Luke ended up with a U for the project and an F for the class.”
7. Never Bully A Trainee Who Has Access To Your Personal Files
“I used to work in tourism, and when I was a trainee in a high-end travel agency, my boss hated me. He hated me because I couldn’t make the IT guy work faster (not the work I applied for, by the way). Plus, I was in charge of keeping the website up to date.
I couldn’t do it without the IT guy and didn’t have a computer to work on. Too many trainees, not enough space. I guess he was saving money by having more trainees than employees.
So my boss lent me a laptop to work on in the office. His partner was no better. She would let her dog poop under my desk and everywhere else in the office and make me clean it up every day.
At first, I tried to do my best and work with the lazy IT guy who was still a student who worked from home (cheaper than having a professional at the office, I suppose). He never did what I asked for, and I would then get buried by the boss for things not being done. Rinse and repeat every day.
I tried to explain to my boss that I had no power as a trainee.
I couldn’t make the IT guy do anything. I was pretty much useless. So in response, he would just put me down some more. Yelling at me, calling me lazy, etc.
Being unable to do the work and having no other mission, I would spend most of my days working on my school report (the 30-page report I needed to present to my teacher at the end of the training) and browsing the internet.
One day, I was particularly bored and started looking aimlessly through the laptop. I found picture folders and other documents. That’s when I found out I was using my boss’s personal laptop. Oh, happy day.
2 months in a 3 month training period, I couldn’t take the abuse anymore. I would cry every day at that point. I called my teacher and told her everything. I begged to end the training early.
Of course, after hearing about what I had been through, she gave me permission to end the training. The next day, I told my boss I would stay until the end of the month and leave. I remember that my exact words (translated to English) were, “Boss, let’s be frank. You don’t like me, so here’s what we’re going to do: I will finish the month and then leave.
Is that okay with you?” He seemed happy enough to get rid of me, so he agreed. Why finish the month, you would ask? Because, 1: I had a week left, and 2: I needed 2 full months to pass the training, and there was no way I would leave and have gone through all that for nothing.
Here’s when the revenge starts. I spent my last days snooping through the laptop and created a throwaway email address.
I waited until the last moment to use the email to send a copy of my boss’s and his partner’s pay sheet and expenses, along with several nearly unclothed pictures I had of both of them to every employee and trainee. I’m talking jacuzzi pictures, scandalous poses in tightie whities, etc. Then I left and never heard from them again. I did get some messages from a couple of employees and trainees who thanked me for making their day.”
6. Bully A Student With A Disability? You Won't Be Working Here Long
“So, here’s the cast:
Me- OP (only relevant in parts of this)
Molly- my friend (fake name)
Slough- my math teacher (his nickname) (only relevant at the end)
Karen- awful Spanish teacher (her real name)
So, a bit of background info for it to show that the witch deserved this.
Everyone in grade 7 and 8 has to take Spanish at my school. I was unfortunate to have Karen for both years. I can’t speak Spanish to save my life, so I came out failing Spanish, and Karen refused to help anyone outside of the shouting Spanish to English translations at us.
Me having APD (auditory processing disorder) only heard the Spanish, so I sat there clueless. Side note, I use microphones now that the teacher wears and put headphones in, so I can hear and process everything that’s being said. She refused to repeat herself, and I just said screw it; I’m not taking Spanish in 9th grade.
My friend Molly witnessed all this and was my rock throughout.
Molly was a straight-A student in Spanish and tried to teach me some of what Karen has been teaching.
I still struggled despite Molly’s best effort to keep me up to speed. Karen gives out code 3s (detention) and code 4s (ISS) like candy on Halloween. She refused to let Molly repeat what she had said to me, so I could learn. She gave Molly a code 3 for disrupting the lesson and me a code 4 for being too stupid for this school (not what she put on the form; she put disrupting class several times).
I hadn’t spoken apart from signing to Molly to repeat. (I know basic sign for when my anxiety takes over, and I go into selective mutism mode.) Molly and I have hated her since. (There were several incidents regarding my dyslexia; however, this post would be too long with them as well.)
Anyway, onto the revenge.
In grade 8, Molly started recording Karen’s rants at me and her calling me names as well as the code 3s and 4s she gave out.
Molly was nice, so she didn’t show these to the principal straight away. She gave Karen 2 more years. She meticulously tracks all code 3s and code 4s possible, even going as far as to asking Karen for help at dinner and recording the response. She does this every lesson she has with Karen. I knew this and started taking Molly with me to places like the bathroom and dinner hall (when I knew she was monitoring them) and signing start and stop to Molly (Karen still doesn’t know sign language), then walking past Karen who would have a complete fit at me going to the toilet during lunch or going to get some food.
All of it was recorded on Molly’s phone.
3 weeks ago, Molly showed the principal. Karen had marked her down due to using sign in her exam along with speaking (she does it automatically sometimes); everything else was perfect. She got an F just for using sign language. (It was conversation, and she’d practiced with me.)
The principal said he’d review it, and Molly just waited. The principal walked past right as Karen had started her rant on how stupid people shouldn’t have taken Spanish and that the whole class was getting Fs for the semester.
The principal swiftly took action and fired Karen.
I was speaking to my math teacher today, and he was talking about how he had to cover Spanish and told me that Karen was fired because of a complaint by a student and how he knew I was a part of it as it’d been mentioned that just because someone was signing didn’t mean they were stupid and that discrimination would not be tolerated.
(We were talking alone in a quiet room, so I was speaking to him and able to have a conversation without the mic or signing.) I only found out off of Molly at lunch what happened when she spoke to the principal.”
Another User Comments:
“Good. I hate teachers who would be bigoted against students with certain needs. They are bullies and should not be allowed to teach.
Kudos.” nicodiumus
5. Trying To Get Me To Fail A Class Project? I'll Take You Down First
“In the recent school year, for grade 8, (my school went from pre-k to 8th grade), I was in a class called “Family Living,” and it was teaching you about basic home life. The highlight of the class was the flour baby project, where you took a bag of flour, made it look like a baby, and had to carry it around all day, every day, for a week.
It was also near the end of the year, in May or something. It was the only big assignment for the class, and your grade for this project determined the grade on your report card. On the last two days of the project, you are allowed to kidnap other people’s babies when they are unattended but not rip them out of their hands. During class, there are safe spaces called nurseries where you can’t kidnap them, but if your baby does get kidnapped, and you can’t find them, and you kinda fail the class.
Remember this.
Anyways, the main witch of this story is a girl I’ll call…Patricia. She was not liked by many, due to her incessant crap-talking and gossip. She had outted one of the girls in the grade as being a lesbian, causing the girl to be mocked for her crush on a very sweet, yet straight girl in our grade. Nobody ever had the “right” opinion when talking to her, causing her to take low blows and insult them instead of being a sane person.
She also stabbed me in the shoulder with a blunt pencil, taunting me to chase her down the hallway while I had a sprained ankle (lol, no; my pain tolerance ain’t that high.)
Point is, I was fed up with her, and the first kidnapping day was the breaking point. It was during lunch, and me and my friend were packing up our things to leave.
My baby was on the table, and I had a hand on it.
But suddenly, it comes out of my grasp. Yep, this cow, Patricia, had pulled it out of my grasp. I chased her, as she was running to the main office (you’re supposed to leave kidnapped babies there for our class teacher to find), but she beat me there, only to be handing my baby to our teacher.
I was angry and told the teacher what happened.
Conversation went like this.
Me: Excuse me, Mrs. Teacher/ Patricia stole my baby from my hands. This isn’t a fair kidnap.
Patricia: No, you were on the other side of the lunchroom, leaving your poor baby alone. This is a fair kidnap!
Now, Mrs. Teacher is confused and thinking about whose side to take. She takes us back to the lunchroom, holding my baby, and asks random students about what happened.
Their story lines up with mine, so I was free to go. But so was Patricia. I got my baby back, and that’s how it should have ended. Right? Wrong.
The Revenge:
The bus ride home is where I craft a sinister plot with a friend of mine in the 5th grade, who I’ll call Link. During fifth period the next day, I have gym and he has English, and our classrooms are right across the hall from each others.
Gym is the only class where the nursery is outside of the room, so you can’t really see the babies from inside the gym.
Cue Link. He was going “go to the bathroom” during English and leave the room. He’d take Patricia’s baby and hide it inside of an empty locker that was not used or opened. All while I didn’t leave the gym, having a rock-solid alibi.
He was down for it because he was always a troublemaker and because I promised him $10 in advance. And it went off perfectly. He hid the baby and went back to class as normal.
When gym was over, and everyone collecting babies, Patricia freaked out. Her precious baby was missing, and she started wailing like a banshee. Me and some other friends were giggling at this, and she raged at us to give her baby back or she’d report us to the principal, but we reminded her that we didn’t leave the room.
She got huffy and looked all over.
When Family Living came that day, she broke down in front of Mrs. Teacher, saying that her baby was gone. They looked all over, but nothing. The weekend was me telling my best friend about this and us laughing like hyenas.
Fast forward to the last week of the school year, all the lockers are being cleared out and opened, even the empty ones.
One of the teachers find the flour baby, carelessly hung on one of the locker’s hooks. It’s recognized as the missing baby from late May and is given to Patricia.
At this point, it’s too late to change report card grades; I have no idea why. So Patricia has a nice shiny F on her report card. What a nice way to start high school next year.
She moped about it and yelled at everyone else for its disappearance. Safe to say, she wasn’t invited to the private farewell party our grade had.”
Another User Comments:
I had the same exact thought.
“I can’t help but wonder… couldn’t she get another sack of flour and decorate it (or however you make it look like a baby) the same way her original baby was?
And just act like nothing happened? If the baby was in an old locker, unlikely to be discovered, NOT turned in to the office, couldn’t she have gotten away with that?” skrism
Reply:
“Well, at least ten people did see her freak out that the baby was missing, and she reported me to the office ASAP. I guess she panicked before she could cover it up.
I mean, 8th graders aren’t known for their keen intellects.” Naarwhales
4. Don't Backstab Him Unless You Want Your Prom Ruined
“So this happened a day ago (on Thursday) and our senior prom is today. Well, my friend (Guy A) was planning to ask one of his best friends (Girl) to prom with this big elaborate but sweet promposal. He based it around the show Big Mouth because it is something they enjoy together.
Well, this other guy (Guy B) isn’t well-liked by anyone as a lot of people find him annoying or overbearing.
He tends to make friends either through pity or by some materialist form (rides home, money, etc.). The day before, Guy B asked Guy A who he was going to prompose to and Guy A doesn’t say to keep it a big surprise.
Guy B then asks if it’s Girl, and Guy A (who is really bad at lying) says, “I don’t know; we’ll see” to where Guy B just says, “Oof.
Okay.”
Come first period yesterday where myself and Guy A’s friend see Guy B but leave to make up an assignment for another class where we meet up with Guy A.
Fast forward a bit to second period where my phone, Friend’s, and Guy A’s phone are all blowing up with the same text message: “[Guy B] asked [Girl] to prom!
He came to her class second period and did it in front of the entire class!”
I then got the text message from Girl which said one word, “Help.” Guy A falls into a fuming rage because he brought his stuff and was all excited to surprise Girl.
He also knew that Guy B KNEW what he was doing because our friends in our first period all said that Guy B was planning to ask Girl our “before someone else does,” which already throws everyone in a frenzy.
This becomes a hot topic for the next few periods with me giving information to different people in our friend group and to those who asked questions.
Guy A even confronted Guy B about it to where Guy B just lied and gave excuses. That’s when Guy A tells me that he is going to do the promposal anyway, but he’ll make Guy B watch.
So I thought, what better way to spice this up other than telling Girl some special advice.
Our conversation went like this: Girl: “I really don’t want to go with [Guy B]… what should I do?” Me: “Just tell him no and give back the stuff.” Girl: “But that’ll hurt his feelings!” Me: “So? Yours matter more. But make sure to tell him during 5th period, so he can spend lunch recovering.” (I knew Guy A’s promposal was going to be during lunch.) Girl: “Okay… I’ll give him the stuff during lunch.
I’ll text him right now.” Me: “Good.”
I text her a thumbs-up emoji as Guy B sits behind me, gushing about how happy he is to go with Girl.
Normally I would’ve felt bad for condoning this behavior… but Guy B also was caught saying, “I wanted to ask a girl that wouldn’t say no.” Guy A begins to get gradually more and more excited as the bell for lunch creeps closer because he tells me how his small poster, flowers, and gifts are going to become a big show where he asks people to line up like there was an untouchable red carpet in the middle of the hallway.
He even asks his friends to hold big letters that say “P R O M?” on them and says he’ll run into the hall calling her his “Precious Ravioli.”
Lunch hits and I’m still convincing Girl to give Guy B back his stuff and I know that he’ll be hanging around our lunch spot because he wants to see Girl. I distract Girl with the help of Friend and my man by walking around and convincing her that she isn’t in the wrong.
When we get the signal, we head to the lunch area where I make direct eye contact with Guy B who knows exactly what is going on.
Guy A’s promposal happens as he now planned it and I discretely take Guy B’s stuff out of Girl’s hands while hiding to the side so that no one else would know she got promposed to already.
Everyone cheers and is excited for Girl and Guy A, but I can see Guy B’s hurt expression.
We manage to return Guy B’s stuff, but he is throwing his stuff around and is visibly upset.
The day ends and Guy B won’t be going to prom with anyone because he got rejected and didn’t want to look “like a loser” promposing to another girl.
Guy A laughs and is ready to have a good time tonight with Girl, at least that’s what he tells me while I’m writing this. And we find out that Guy B had a LIST of girls who he was ready to ask to prom because they “wouldn’t say no.” Funnily enough, two other girls he asked shot him down harder than Guy A did.”
3. Take A Kayak Paddle To The Face
“I was friends with a really manipulative girl for a few years at primary school.
On the outside, she was funny and charming but her modus operandi seemed to be nothing other than getting people in trouble or breaking up friendships.
I finally felt foul of her ways in high school when she decided I’d be her next victim. The bullying that followed made me want to kill myself.
It didn’t help that my parents divorced around the same time.
She encouraged other girls to walk up to me and call me ugly and make fun of my clothes. School was awful.
Sometime around the last two years of school, she decided that she had ‘forgiven’ me (for who knows what!) and tried really hard to be my friend. I was really confused but went along with it.
Turned out she was going through some personal stuff and realized I was probably the only person she knew who would be ok with it.
While she was fine with me in person she’d still try and humiliate me in front of others. It wasn’t a mutual consolidation but went along with it to see how it panned out.
One day our class took an outing to go kayaking, we had a tone of fun and at the end, I was paddling my kayak up to the dock when said girl reached down to pull me in.
I lifted my paddle and accidentally hit her the way I’d always dreamed about hitting her right across the face. She was floored and I felt good. Of course, I apologized but I never meant a word of it.
A few months later we were compiling our yearbook and one of the questions we were asked was ‘What was your best high school memory?’ This jerk was first on the register alphabetically and I was next.
My opportunity arose.
She was a very popular girl (hence her minions) and she was overjoyed at being the first page of the yearbook. I suggested that we should put ‘reconnecting with each other’ would look really good on our pages. This cow used to make me afraid of being alone as I found the horror of reliving what she has done that day so hard to deal with.
For instance, she would call my house and swear at me down the line if I answered. One day when the hospital was calling my parents to say my grandad was dying they couldn’t get through because this witch was blocking our line with abusive calls. When I stood up to her about it in school she got most of her ‘gang’ to scream in my face about how ugly I was.
We wrote out our submission for the yearbook together. She wrote ‘realizing your friends are right in front of you’, I wrote ‘finding old friends’.
When the yearbook was published her quote was there, on the next page mine said ‘Smacking XXXXX in the face with a kayak paddle, I couldn’t have paid for that experience! She was right in front of me!’ Accompanied by the photo of me winking.
No much but it made me happy.”
2. The Final Straw
“I never really had a problem with bullies. I was always a bigger built kid in school and was left alone. I also made friends easily, and I flew under the radar for the most part. Except for Josh. Josh tried so hard to bully me, but he never truly succeeded. He was much smaller and was skin and bones, but he was your average ghetto wannabe redneck white trash.
He thought he was tough, and for some reason had his sights on me.
I never really let it bug me. He would try and trip me, he would push me, call me names, and even found out where I lived and tried to hook up with mewith me at home. I basically ignored it and my friends would tell him to go away.
The entire time this happened, I would make incident reports with the vice-principal, who I knew very well since he was the old guidance counselor from my grade school.
I had built a pretty substantial paper trail, and I had copies of all of these reports.
The last week of senior year, Josh made himself a place at our lunch table and started his bullcrap. I ignored him, my friends ignored him, but he just wouldn’t go away or shut up. It was like, the third to last day of high school and I was just sick of it.
The straw that broke the camel’s back is when Josh blew his nasty, snotty nose into a napkin and said ‘Hey TaterSaladFarts, look at this!’
I humored him and looked over, only for him to immediately smash this snotty napkin into my face.
I stood up, casually tossed the napkin in the trash can behind me, and exploded like a gorilla on Josh. It took my 5 friends to pull me off of him.
In the process of feeding him his own teeth, I broke his jaw, his nose, all of his front teeth, fractured his eye socket, two black eyes, and knocked him backward into a support pillar giving him a huge concussion.
I broke three fingers and his teeth gnashed my hands up pretty bad.
End result? His parents tried to sue, the school district stepped up and defended me with the massive pile of provocations and harassment.
Not to mention, security footage of him blowing his nose into a napkin and smashing it in my face. As an adult, I’m not sure how I didn’t get in a lot of trouble for this, considering I really did mess him up. It was about ten years ago, so maybe the schools weren’t as bad as they are today?
Last I heard, the recovery from his injuries lead to a long downward spiral into addiction.
Never graduated high school, got caught pretending to be an injured marine in public by a former drill instructor of all people, and I saw him once working midnights at a gas station a few years ago. He died from overconsumption last year.
No regrets. He was a piece of garage.”
1. Go Behind My Back To Get At My Ex? No More Social Life For You
“I was with this guy, A, out of pity. Even when he was trying to convince me to be with him after I told him I could possibly be in a relationship with another guy soon, he was manipulative.
For example, “Just… Think about who needs it more.” Anyway, I accept, and then it begins. During the relationship, he gave me gifts and I went to his house a few times.
He ended up being too much for me to deal with. His emotional baggage was just God awful. I told him I couldn’t help him, so he thought that’s why I broke up with him.
The real reason was because he was clingy, manipulative, and completely ignored when I was uncomfortable with something. Actually, one time, he got mad at me for being uncomfortable when he said, in public, that he wanted to hook up with me after we broke up.
And he went full r/ niceguy on me when I didn’t answer his message asking me to go to the mall for 3 MINUTES (which is what the other post is, the screenshot of him flipping out on me).
So now after all that, my friend, AR, knowing what he had done and what he had said, promised me to not talk to him.
She talked to him.
She even used jokes that I was using with my friend, K, to talk to A with. That was just horrible. She told me, “You can’t tell me what to do” when I reminded her about her promise. She also said that I had “treated her like crap for the past three years.” I didn’t, in fact, she is such a huge hypocrite because, for example, when we were younger, we had this thing where if I wore a ponytail, she would pull it.
Hard. So when she wore a ponytail, I gently tugged on it, and she yelled at me, running to her locker in tears as if I pulled her hair out of her scalp. That’s just one example. So I ended that friendship. This was the day before she left for a Disney cruise.
When she came back, she tried to sit with me and my friends at breakfast.
So I threw her backpack (which had a huge rip on the side already) onto the floor right in front of A’s table. When AR came out of the line for food, she tried to yell at me, but I just told her that she can’t sit with me after what she said. She, even now, sits with A at breakfast every day.
At lunch when she tried the same thing, I moved her books to the seat across from A.
She came back, yelled at me again, but I just told her that if she wants me to treat her like crap, I’ll treat her like crap and that she should bond with her new friend. She got her stuff away from the table and moved across the cafeteria from me, and A.
Apparently, she gossiped about me to other people at the table she was at because someone came and sat next to me and asked if I was bullying AR.
AR now leaves the cafeteria with A and goes to the office to eat I assume.
I turned every mutual friend of ours against her, so they now laugh at A and AR with me. “Their family tree is probably a wreath..” These idiots low-key look related. Dirty blonde hair, glasses, etc. She even no longer comes to Pokemon club (Don’t judge me; it’s actually fun there and not full of neckbeards) after school.
I messed up A and AR’s life pretty hard. I mean, she lost multiple friends and made an enemy out of the person she should have feared more than anyone. And I know that sounds like a stupid movie line, but just about everyone in the school knows about my anger issues. I even accidentally gave my friend K a scar when I kicked her ankle too hard.
I could tap AR on the shoulder and she starts screaming and crying; imagine if I slapped her or kicked her.”
