People Share Stories About The Most Sabotaging Revenge They Got On Someone

Revenge is one of those things that feels good the moment you’re planning it, when you’re actually carrying it out, and sometimes for a little bit afterward. Then as time passes, you might start to think, “Was I wrong for doing that? Was I too harsh?” Then regret might start to sink in, sometimes causing you more pain than the pain you caused the person you sought revenge on.

But the thing with taking revenge is that you tend to feel so much hurt at the time that you execute it,  you don’t stop to think how bad the consequences might be, both for you and your victim. Whether you were the reason someone lost their job, gained a lot of weight, or suffered from a serious, life-altering injury, it’s hard not to regret the vengeance you’ve taken. It’s often not until you see the harm that you’ve caused that guilt floods your mind.

In most of the following cases, the person who gets revenge on someone in quite a brutal manner often ends up in a bottomless pit of remorse. Others? Well, no so much. Either way, each of these revenge stories is downright savage!

22. I Put All The Blame On Him, Then His Parents Divorced And He Moved

“When I was in grade school there was a neighborhood kid who was a known trouble maker.

His parents seemed to be a ****** dad and an overworked mom type. Kid was in the same grade as me and because we lived a few doors away, he would always want to play when he saw me outside. He would always be a bully type though and I really didn’t like playing with him, but it was hard to say no at that age. Quite a few times he would end up hitting me or doing something that ended up getting me hurt, kinda like it happened to him and he wanted to inflict that pain on someone else…

One day, my parents dropped me off at his house to play for a few hours while they ran out, even though I said I didn’t want to go over.

Shortly after I got there he took matches from his dad, who smoked heavily and wanted to go light some small fires in the woods behind his house. We ran up to a thicket of woods behind the cul-de-sac. At first, I wanted nothing to do with it and I didn’t want to be playing with him, to begin with… but as 2 stupid kids, we began lighting small fires and then stomping them out quickly. It was exciting at first but then it kinda lost its excitement so we decided to let it burn a tad more. I lit a small patch of twigs and it grew pretty large pretty quick.
The other kid got nervous and told me to stomp it out but I didn’t, I just watched it.

He started freaking out and tried to stomp it out but it just scattered the burning twigs and created more mini fires… now **** was serious and out of our control to handle. We ran back down to his parent’s house and started yelling the trees were on fire behind the house, but his parents didn’t believe us, they literally just brushed us off, mainly him more because they didn’t believe anything he said (which at the time shocked me). We kinda just sat down for a few minutes trying to decide what we do, keep in mind we are like…8?

Suddenly, his dad looks out the back porch window and see’s the smoke and loses his **** that there is actually a fire happening.

His dad grabbed a fire extinguisher and ran into the woods, his mom called 911 and then ran out there with a bucket of water. Neighbors were running out of their houses and rushing into the woods with their fire extinguishers. We just stood there in complete shock of what we had done. As a child I felt like I was going to jail like I was about to have my life ended over this. Within minutes there were firetrucks driving across the field to get to the tree area and police cars with sirens off-roading to get there to assist.
We just stood in his backyard watching in disbelief at the chaos we had caused.

The fire was put out quickly and only a 15×15 foot area actually burned, so it really wasn’t able to get going and cause a ton of damage or anything.

The cops marched down the hill towards us as someone had seen us in the area shortly before the fire. The cop separated us and I could hear the kid saying we had nothing to do with it and we were just in the area playing (as kids do) but I looked at his mother who was in the house with me at this point and said, he has the matches.
Her eyes got as big as moons and she stormed off to where he was and began ripping through his pockets and found the empty match case. The cop looked at the parents and they both broke down over it. The kid was frantically trying to blame me and say I was the one who lit the fire that got out of control.

I just shook my head, which caused him to become infuriated. His dad laid into him immediately. The mother came over and took me to the front of the house until my parents came to get me. Once my parents got there, the police officer filled them in and then asked me again what happened and if I had any part of it.
I denied it all and blamed him for everything.

He didn’t show up at school after that. Within the month, his parents had divorced and both moved out of the neighborhood. They were pretty much ostracized after the incident from what I understand. The kid moved in with his mom to a small condo and started going to a different school.

I guess it was a long time coming and this was the breaking point for his parents and the neighborhood alike. but it always bothered me that I didn’t fess up to my involvement and that I took that opportunity to screw him for the **** way he always treated me.
I didn’t expect his parents to divorce and he get put in a different school though…” Reddit user

21. Apparently, Ketchup Stains Vehicles

You learn something new every day.

“At my high school, we had a parking problem. Not that there wasn’t enough room, but that there was not enough spots close to the school, so people would just fight for the spots closest. In my junior year, the school’s solution to this problem was to paint numbers on every spot and issue parking spots at the beginning of each year, the closest spots got issued to seniors as a perk.

So I got put way at the back, which I was okay with because I knew the following year I could have that perk too, I never stole anyone’s spot, and I was a good noodle.
Anyway, I’m a senior now, I get a close spot near three of my friend’s spots.

There is this one junior girl in a new white Volkswagen her parents definitely bought for her. She is a ******* menace. She constantly steals other people’s parking spots. Meanwhile, my friends and I had an incredibly lenient first-period teacher so we often would show up late, or get food in the morning. So the spots that always got stolen was one of ours, and we’d have to park in the junior lot way off.

This happened for the whole first half the year. I had had enough.
We show up in the middle of the first period back from McDonalds or something, and she has taken a spot from some poor soul next to mine. So I come up with the idea to leave her a nasty note on her car. I knew paper wouldn’t have the weight I needed, so I looked around in my car for something nonpermanent. Ketchup packets from the food we had eaten was what I decided on. So I stealthily write “PARK IN YOUR OWN ******* SPOT” on the hood of her six-month-old Beetle. And we got the **** out of there.
Meanwhile its like April in a beach town in Florida.

95* and 100% humidity every day. And by the time everyone leaves for lunchtime, the ketchup had not only hardened but had oozed all over the hood of her car. As I’m walking out, she is surrounded by campus security and they are asking her if she knew anyone who’d do this, and if she knows that she had parked in the wrong lot. (Revenge I thought had been great.)

Anyway, I learned later, another junior had gotten detention because of it, and when she tried to clean the ketchup, and the acidic hot tomato paste had stained the car and it was there until i graduated.
I never told anybody outside my little parking group.” ExSalamander

20. Still With Your Wife And Not Tell Me? No Family Disneyland Trip For You

“So I was in my first long-distance relationship with a married man.

Just so you know he was separated for a LONG time, I even stayed at his wife’s place and had his little girl stay with us at weekends.

Well anyway, we were in the process of breaking up but he hadn’t moved out yet, which was super awkward because it was a one-bedroom apartment.

He loved to get ready in front of me to go on dates and then come home the next morning and tell me all about it.
He had never explained to me why he had broken up with me and why he wouldn’t leave. I should have left but my name was on the lease and financially hadn’t got the funds for a new place.

I came home after work one Friday and some of the furniture was stacked in the hallway (stuff we had bought together).

He told me he was moving out but was going to go on vacation for a week first. We had a few words and then he left to go out with his new girlfriend (that he just told me about, I actually knew her).
After he left, I called up a friend for a bit of moral support and she came over with a few bottles of wine. We drank, listened to music, danced about the place and she listened to my woes.

As the night wore on the thoughts of him having such a good time and heading off on holiday with her p*ssed me off. One of the couches we bought together was in the hallway so I drunkenly stole the detachable feet from it and hid them.

His luggage was in the hallway so in the spirit of being a **** I took out his passport and cut its corners (like when a passport has expired and is invalid) and placed it back in fits of giggles.
The next morning I got a very angry phone call from the airport, he was stuck at the ramp and obviously couldn’t board the plane! The part I regret is that his wife and little girl had to board the plane without him and head to Disneyland on their own while he stayed home and applied for an emergency passport!!!” TallulahVonDerSloot

19. I Terrorized Him So Badly That His Eye Blew

“Back in the early 90s, when I was in the army, there was this dude in my unit who was officially “with” a female soldier in the same unit.

He was a cocky b*stard with a sh*tty attitude and a general pain in the a*s.
Back then, the computer system was a mainframe/workstation model and I worked directly with the mainframe.

One day, I was looking through the mainframe files and I came across a secret buried file that these two were using to communicate with each other during the workday, with weeks of history. The file revealed a sycophantic personality for the guy that was in great contrast to the jacka*sy, cocksure persona that he projected outwardly, so I thought I’d have some fun knocking him down a few pegs. I copied the file and at random intervals over the course of a few weeks, printed it to the unit’s main printer, which was in the same room where the guy worked.

People would go back there to get their stuff and they’d find this long soap opera printing out, featuring this dude groveling and kissing the girl’s a** like she was the last female on earth. It was fun watching him spaz out when the stuff would just start coming out of the printer with no warning.

Anyway, I had a month-long leave coming up, so I turned the file over to a colleague who turned out to be a bit more relentless and insensitive than I’d ever intended to be–especially after it became a more-or-less open secret that the girlfriend was sleeping her way through most of the guys in the unit.
While I was away, the new custodian of the file sent that thing to the printer with unmerciful frequency, even after the two broke up and it became common knowledge that the girl had treated the guy like a chump.

The unrelenting barrage coming on top of a rather painful and public breakup proved to be too much for the guy, and one day he just snapped–had something I can only describe as a nervous breakdown. A ***** vessel popped somewhere in or around his eye and he had to be hospitalized. When I came back from leave, he was still wearing an eye patch.
I mean, the dude was a bit of a pr*ck, but I never would have knowingly terrorized him to the point where his eye blew up.” kilgoretrout71

18. Won’t Let Me Play On The Monkey Bars? I’ll Break Your Neck

“When I was in elementary school our playground had an old set of monkey bars that were away from the newer jungle gyms.

Not many people cared for it because it was just four log posts with metal rods. I loved it though and spent many recesses before sitting on top of it with my best friend.

One day I was at the monkey bars as usual.
A few other kids were there as well, one of them was a girl I considered my friend. She was with another boy who decided it would be funny to push people. People asked them to stop and they would just laugh and do it again. I was mad that my friend was pushing me even when I asked her to stop. I wasn’t physically hurt, but my feelings were.

Growing up I wasn’t usually confrontational with others. Half of me was upset, but the other half just wanted to fit in and thought if that’s how they want to play, then I’ll do it too.

I went up behind the boy and pushed him. He fell but was okay. Instead of laughing, he was angry at me. That’s when it changed from trying to fit into getting my “revenge.” It wasn’t fair that they could push others but didn’t like to be pushed themselves. I was going to stick up for myself and show them both what it felt like.

Next was the girl. That’s where things went horribly wrong. I pushed her just like I did the boy. She fell a lot harder than I thought she would, but unlike the boy she didn’t get up.
She cried and cried but wouldn’t get up. What happened next is a blur. Teachers ran over and surrounded her. We were told to stay back.

Another teacher took my class to her room. She tried to distract us by reading a story but that didn’t cover up the sounds of the ambulance. I could hear the kids whispering, trying to find out what happened. I felt like everybody was talking about me. I wanted to tell them it was an accident. I mean for things to happen this way. Instead, I just sat there quietly, full of guilt, wondering what was going to happen next.
When I went home that day my mother asked me how school was. That’s the first time I ever lied to her. To this day I don’t know if the school ever called her to let her know what happened.

Later that week we made “get well soon” cards.

It was February and I had special heart-shaped confetti that I glued onto mine. When someone asked if they could use them too I told them no. Mine had to be extra special. She has to know that I’m sorry and didn’t mean it.

What felt like an eternity later, she finally returned to school.
Everybody wanted to talk to her to find out what happened. She told them how she broke her neck and spend time in the hospital. When I couldn’t avoid her anymore she told me that I was going to pay for what happened and her parents were going to sue me.

So **** that. **** nobody else intervening when she was pushing other kids. **** sitting in a room wondering if she was going to be okay.

**** me feeling like I had to lie to my mother about school that day. **** using my favorite heart confetti for her get well card.
Kids can be mean and accidents happen.

The monkey bars are now long gone and now that girl and I talk about which kind of apple juice we give our own kids. The incident hasn’t been brought up since elementary school and we have grown up and moved on. She didn’t deserve to have her neck broken and I didn’t deserve live in guilt over an accident.” Extrematity

17. She Hardcore Cheated, So I Gave Her A Completely Different Life

I would say this one is revenge to the extreme…

“My girlfriend of 5 years at the time and I were going through a rough patch.

I had just entered my final year of medical school and was eternally busy. Even though we lived together, we never really spent time together anymore. Prior to that, we spent practically all of our free time together; nearly all of our friends had moved off to separate colleges, and we didn’t have time to visit them. Because of the sudden lack of free time, she got very lonely and joined IMVU and Second Life and other similar things.

She would tell me all about the conversations she had with these people, and at the time I was happy because it meant I could spend more time on my studies and I wouldn’t feel bad about being unable to spend time doing things with her.

One day she told me she got into roleplaying. At first, I was a little weirded out, but she assured me that it was entirely innocent and platonic, she even invited me to watch. I could tell she was really excited and having a good time, so I pushed aside my feelings because I still felt like I was wronging her.

One day, she told me about this guy she met online. He was funny and smart and I would like talking to him etc. She and he became best friends very fast. She found out he lived pretty close, about 30 min away.
They exchanged phone numbers and they would text all the time. I didn’t think too much of it, because she had my very deepest trust, and honestly I didn’t have time to think anything about it.

I have ADD so keeping a focus on my schoolwork even with medication is still hard as ***.

Thi*s went on for a few months. Eventually, she started changing, although it was so slow I didn’t notice. She stopped telling me about what went on online, she was never more than an arm’s reach from her phone, and she changed her passwords on all of her devices.
I was so afraid of losing her, I didn’t push anything or ask about why she was changing. I figured it was all my fault because I was unable to spend time with her. This continued until it was practically the norm. We’d wake up, eat breakfast, I’d go off to class and she’d go off to work, we’d come home, I’d study and she would text him and chat online, we’d eat dinner, usually in front of our laptops while I was studying, and we’d go to sleep.

One day though, I decided I needed to change for her benefit. I talked with my doctor and got my prescription changed.
I was able to focus much better and as such, we were actually able to do things again! She was ecstatic, and our relationship improved 5 fold. The major downside was that my *** drive was practically annihilated, but she assured me that wasn’t a problem. Everything was going great until the revelation.

One day, while studying my laptop crapped out on me. I asked if I could use hers, and although she was hesitant, she let me use her laptop, although she never gave me the password. Even though this was normal at this point, I could still tell something was off.

Despite this, I was too focused on my work to care. Right as I was finishing up, a Skype message comes up. It was her friend from online, the one she constantly texted. I realized at that moment that I never heard about what happened between them anymore; in fact, I’d completely forgotten about him. I opened up the chat window and started scrolling up. What I saw ******* floored me. Before she came back, quickly installed a RAT and I downloaded main.db (the Skype chat logs) and gave her laptop back like nothing happened. She didn’t notice a thing.

Later on, I opened her chat logs, and to this day I wish I hadn’t.
I wish I just broke up with her then, but my curiosity got the better of me.

For months they had been sending explicit messages to each other. They’d webcammed for hours and the messages I saw… she said things to him she’d never said to me. She called him her master. There were dozens of pictures sent. When he got mad at her she begged for his forgiveness. I discovered she had started paying for his internet and phone bills because she couldn’t stand to be without talking to him.

And it wasn’t just ****** messages. They also sent truly heartfelt messages to one another.
Love was tossed about frequently. She said the only reason she hadn’t left me is that I gave her whatever she wanted. What I felt at that moment is still the worst I had ever experienced.

I was instantly nauseated, my vision narrowed, my heart started pounding, and my ***** ran cold. Anyone who has been cheated on knows the feeling. It’s comparable to hearing a loved one has been severely injured or killed.

For about two or three weeks I was in a deep depression. Here she was, sending him all these messages, but she seemed so happy with me! And what’s more, she was the only one I had in my life at the time.
All my other friends had fallen by the wayside in favor of her. I had no idea what I was going to do. One night though, something just snapped. I wasn’t going to stand for this, and she NEEDED to pay for what happened.

I developed a multi-step plan for revenge. I lost something that night, and since then I no longer trust anyone else, nor do I really feel strongly about anything anymore.

Using the data I got from the RAT/keylogger, I accessed her Skype account and started sabotaging their relationship. I would act as her; I acted belligerent, scheduled for webcamming sessions and not show up, told him not to text her phone because I was getting suspicious etc.
Luckily, he was the type to get angry easily. Furthermore, he knew nearly all of her close online friends, oftentimes better than she did. One day she came to me, tears in her eyes, and told me that all of her friends had, for some reason, started hating her.

She was crying because she was all alone, but I assured her that we still had each other. Now, all of our free time was spent together again. We even started meeting our old friends again. Our relationship grew ever stronger, or so she thought.

I also started lifting weights. Now if any of you have gone to r/fitness, you know that to gain muscle you need to eat.
A lot. Luckily, I did the bulk of the cooking in the kitchen. I started cooking high-calorie meals, and she ate whatever I gave to her. Whereas we both ate around 2K calories a day before, now we ate 3.5K calories per day. I gained a lot of muscle, where she just gained a lot of fat.

After 9 months, I was in better shape than I’d ever been, and she was in the worst shape of her life. I reassured her that I still loved her for who she was, though, and she seemed content with it. After she had gained around 40 pounds, I bought anti-smoking patches, and I applied them to her in her sleep and took them off before she woke up.
This literally got her addicted to me, as whenever I was away for a few days I would get texts and calls where she seemed like she was on the verge of breaking down.

Because of her weight gain, she found it difficult to do her job. She would always come home dead tired and in pain.

I helpfully suggested to her that she quit her job; after all, I could easily support the both of us on my residency salary. She took that suggestion, and took it fast; she walked out of her job the very next day. I was actually surprised to hear that she quit, but apparently, she had been wanting to for a while, and she knew that my future doctor’s salary would be more than enough to live on.
Now over a year had passed since I learned she was cheating on me. At this point, she was out of a job, very overweight, and still friendless. I, although also friendless, was in great shape and was building good relationships at my residency. We had also grown closer than ever before.

She was dropping hints about a ring, and I thought it was the perfect way to finalize my revenge. We went shopping for a wedding ring, and I made sure to get the ring with the 60-day return policy. I proposed to her later that week. I was able to convince her to sign a prenuptial, making sure that we all got our own stuff and the ring would get returned, by withholding the nicotine patches and putting her through withdrawal, thus weakening her resolve.
Her parents were overjoyed, as they loved me like a son at this point. My own parents were quite happy as well, although I got the sense my dad knew something was going on. Other than that, nobody suspected a thing.

After a month of being engaged, I “just so happened to come across her old Skype logs.” I confronted her about it and she started breaking down. I instantly broke off the engagement, ignoring her threats of *******. I “regretfully” told her parents about what she had done. At first, they didn’t believe me, until I showed them the logs, and they were horrified.
They apologized for their daughter’s actions, saying she wasn’t brought up this way, and that she would no longer be welcome in their house. Our friends quickly learned on Facebook, and they universally rejected her. It helped that I acted heartbroken and depressed; although I suppose it wasn’t really acting, just a delayed response.

At this point, she was now homeless, friendless, jobless, without family, in poor physical shape, and addicted to nicotine.

I stopped talking to her, but from what I can tell she got on Social Security to make ends meet. This all happened about 2 years ago. Last I heard, she got arrested for drug charges.
I am a practicing physician, and have plenty of close friends, although nobody intimate. I don’t think I ever will again, the blow was just too hard on me.

I don’t regret a single thing I did.” Shinjura

16. I Was Part Of The Reason My Horrible Teacher Got Fired

“9th grade Honors English class. The teacher didn’t like me. The only teacher I ever had that didn’t like me (others would get frustrated with how my lack of effort at times, but still liked me as a person; she just flat out didn’t like me).

One of the reasons was that she didn’t like athletes because they would miss her class regularly for travel for games.
And I played 3 sports, so I was missing a good bit. Now, I was also missing for academic stuff like math/science competitions and quiz bowl tournaments, but she was particularly bothered about missing for sports.

Case-in-point: She would intentionally double the amount of homework due the day after long away games knowing that the players wouldn’t have the time to finish it all. And shocker, she didn’t check homework every single day, but always checked after away games.

sShe also would give me 70s and low 80s on papers without any red marks on them, but people around me would have red marks all over their paper and would have 90s.

After one particularly low grade on an assignment that I knew I had actually done really well on, I inquired about it. Her exact response was that I was only doing 70% of my ultimate capability and the others were doing 90% of theirs. So I specifically asked, “Does that mean my paper can be better than someone else’s but be 20+ points lower?” And she said yes. And to show this wasn’t just me misunderstanding things, she recommended me for an advanced writing class a year earlier than students were supposed to be able to take it.

So if those two things weren’t bad enough, she gave us an opportunity for extra credit toward the end of the year.
We had to go to a local college’s rendition of Antigone, write a 2,500 word paper on it and tie it into what we discussed in class on the play, and also turn in our ticket and playbill.

It was due on a Monday and the play was only going on Friday-Sunday, so there was no way to turn it in ahead of time. But I was going to miss class that Monday all day for an academic competition, representing the school. And it was the biggest one of the year (like had to place Top 10 in a previous competition to qualify).
So it’s obviously an excused absence.

I told her for an entire week prior to the play that I was going to miss on Monday, and she told me multiple times to turn it in first thing Tuesday morning. So I go to the play, write the paper, go to the academic competition Monday and place 1st in one category and 2nd in another, and then Tuesday morning before basketball workouts at 7am I go to her room to turn in the assignment.

She refuses to take it because it’s late, and she “didn’t recall” ever suggesting that I could turn it in on Tuesday (she told me 4 times).
Her reasoning: (1) Another student that missed for the competition was able to turn it in. But that student lived across the street from the school. I lived 20 minutes away and couldn’t drive. (2) My mom was a teacher at the school, so I could have just sent it with her. Except I had been told to turn it in Tuesday, so there was no reason for me to think to have my mom turn in my assignment for me, plus she has her own students and classes to worry about. (3) I could have done the work Monday evening, which wouldn’t be fair to the other students.

So I went into the metadata for the paper that showed the last time it had been saved was Saturday afternoon. She still refused to grant me any credit for it. So I was out the $25 for the ticket, the time that it took, plus it really inconvenienced my mom who had to pick me up Friday from practice, rush me home to shower and change, then rush me back downtown for the play, and then come pick me up again 2 hours later. So my mom was pretty p*ssed about it, too.

This teacher also prided herself on the fact that nobody had ever made an A on her final exam.
She thought she was the toughest teacher ever (really she just loaded students up with a bunch of busywork).

So the last day of class she gave a few minutes at the end of class and asked “What’s your biggest wish?” to the class as a whole. I piped up “I wish for an A on the exam” and she laughed and said, “Yea and I wish for a million dollars and not to have to deal with you anymore.”

So, all of that sets up the final exam. It’s 100 questions and then a 5 point bonus question that asked those generic “What was your favorite part of the class? What did you learn? etc.” We got 2 hours to take the exam, and students that finished early had to wait until 1 hour was up so that there was just one point of people getting up and leaving rather than being distracting throughout.

So I finished the 100 questions in about 20 minutes. So I spent the remaining part of the hour just blasting her in the bonus question.

I said that I’m not sure I learned anything and pointed to her never making any comments on how to improve my writing. I said my favorite part of the class was it finally being over and not having to deal with her **** anymore and brought up a number of other little things that happened on top of that mentioned above. And I said that she was by far the worst teacher I had ever had and that the school is worse off with her teaching the entire 9th grade.
The bell rings for the hour and I’m the only person of the entire 110 students to leave at the hour mark.

Now, on exam days the teacher doesn’t proctor their own exam so that they are available to answer questions or if the classes are split among different rooms. So I have to wait for my mom to finish proctoring a different exam, so I’m just sitting out in breezeway. The teacher finds me, holding my exam, with tears in her eyes and tells me to meet her in the principal’s office. She then storms off, so I head over.
As I’m waiting there I recount what happened to the soccer coach who is sitting there cause he made some comment about “surprised to see you sent in here.”

Eventually she comes back in with my mom, who she pulled out of proctoring an exam, and we all go in to see the principal.

She’s crying, screaming, literally choking every minute or so. After about 45 minutes of me spilling everything I’d gone through that year (all things I’d already vented to my mom about plenty of times), the principal finally looks at her and goes, “How much was the question worth?” She said 5 bonus points, and he says, “Then just don’t give him the bonus points.”

So I made a 98 on the final instead of a 103.
Missed 2 questions. Every other student got the bonus points and the next highest grade was an 81.

Thinking she would get the last laugh, I noticed a few days before grades were due that one of my assignments from the second week of class all the way back in August had been dropped 10 points.

My final grade ended up being a 94.4 which was a B at the time. But I couldn’t prove that she had altered my grade, I just had them in all in a spreadsheet to determine my grade ahead of time (should have been a 95.2) but nothing that would prove anything, since I could have just typed it wrong (I didn’t).
The summer after the school decided to change to a 10 point scale and so 90+ was an A, so my B became an A. She also had to have her homework assignments each week signed off by the department chair and she had to start accepting assignments via email. 2 years later she was fired after other students started having real issues with her.

Prior to me the administration just thought it was a case of “students complaining about the hard teacher.”

Still think she deserved every bit of it, but I certainly didn’t think it would set in motion her getting fired.
Though, again, she deserved it.  She suuuuuuuuuuuucked.” tgwinford

Another user Comments:

“I can’t believe I did, but i read it. people like that shouldnt be teachers. student-athletes (that actually put effort into both areas) have it harder than most others in the school. there is not one reason for a teacher to be so discriminative towards you or others in your position, that is absolutely immature.

missing classes is a joke in general, especially in high school. i’ve had very few teachers (uni included) that make me feel rewarded by attending.

if it is an excused absence, ESPECIALLY ONE THATS BEEN NOTED IN ADVANCE, the teacher should feel its their duty to have their lesson supplemented so the pupil can stay caught and on top of the material.
NOT scheming to have the pupil dragged in class down due to obligations.

She failed at being a mentor, simple as that, being a “hard” teacher holds no merit if it is rigged like a godd*mn casino.

I’m glad she got fired too.” WoodenWolf

15. Say I Was “Asking For It?” You’ll Be Asking For A New Job

” CONTEXT: I got kicked from a church because I was labeled an “unrepentant succubus”, I was too aggressive and uncooperative every time we discussed my pending ex-communication options, and how I was “too much for their church to handle, I was too sinful.”

I was dating and sleeping with one of their own, I had family problems, and the dude I was dating abused me three times.

From then on we had relationship problems (OF COURSE). But I loved him and wanted to keep the relationship going. He told the pastor I was “too **** and he couldn’t help himself when I was around, that’s why he had his way with me, I was asking for it” and the pastor nodded to him and consoled him, then told me off calling me a wh*re and making it seem like it was all MY FAULT for being faithful and loving towards someone I cared about more than the air I breathe. He said that because I was a ******** active deviant person, too **** to be around “impressionable young men” (who were 2 years older than me), I was forced out.

They cut me off and said they would call the police on me if I ever returned. My revenge? Well…

I told everyone I knew what they did to me. Every single person in my hometown about their little “God-loving church.” From then on they were isolated. That pastor’s name was locally known as the ********** pastor, one who only picked and chose who was good enough for church and for god. Lots of people hated him because of me. Then I told EVERYONE I knew about my exes family, about how his mother cheated on his father with a random guy, and how she never told her husband, ever.
How the family has severe relationship problems and lets their daughter sleep around but locks their oldest son down with a chastity belt for kissing me.

How they consistently fight and scream about divorce, then yell at their kids for being horrible people. That family was heavily criticized by many people locally from then on.

My family is very influential and very well known in my hometown. My family talked **** to everyone they knew, and everyone they knew told everyone they knew and so on so forth. So many people in that church were ridiculed.

Then I took it a step further and got human and social services to inspect their daycare facilities, only to find they violated a NUMBER of laws about regulating bathrooms.
For one, they do not have walls around the toilets in the daycare center for BOTH SEXES. The toilets and sinks are completely open for everyone to see, both from outside looking in and just standing there.

These kids range from 5-9. Human and Social services shut that part of the church off until they could afford to put walled in the bathroom for the children. They never did. After a while, since there was no daycare to watch those children, people stopped coming, and sooner or later due to other investigations, the church was shut down. The pastor lost his job, almost his ability to be a pastor because of the investigation, and I don’t know what he does now.
THEN about 6 months later, the dude “missed me” and “loved me”, so I took him back. I hated him, I hated him so much. But I wanted closure. Why did he treat me the way he did? Why did he take advantage of me at prom then call me all those things and leave me? Why? So I exploited his hormones and affection for answers, and once I had them all, I started to let my true colors show.

I would get angry at him, frustrated, call him oblivious and ignorant. Call him lousy and not a man. He got angry.
I took him to the local college I attended and dumped him right there, in public. He made an a** of himself and never shows his face outside his job or house since. I talked to some of his friends, apparently, I destroyed him.

I don’t care.” mischieviouskat

14. We Roasted The Teacher So Badly, She Cried

“Our history class teacher in high school really sucked. Some times she rambled around reminiscing in the past and not really teaching us anything useful, while other times she would grill people with questions until they got something wrong. Grading was somewhat arbitrary with two girls always getting good grades without doing anything, one guy getting constantly grilled and always receiving bad grades and another dude whose German wasn’t as good as the others constantly getting corrected in a demeaning way.

It got so bad that we had an arms race with history books. Since it was the advanced history course we already had four books, but one student had recently transferred from another school which had THE perfect book. Perfect for surviving the grilling sessions. Everyone else also got the book to be able to answer her questions as quickly and accurately as the transfer student could as to not look unprepared in comparison.

Fed up with that kind of treatment we created the a** card (“@rschk@rte”) rewarded to the student who became her victim of the day. I created elaborate statistics for who got it when and how bad they got grilled and we always had a good laugh.
Come graduation and the final yearbook: TIME FOR REVENGE.

The entire two pages for the advanced history course class of 2008 consisted of comedically mocking her bad teaching skills, the chaotic lessons, stupid things people said and of course the detailed version of my a** card statics, honoring the Ukrainian guy and the other dude for their insane collection of as* cards.

After submitting our page, my phone rings a week later and it’s the student tasked with laying out the book. The principal, which was also our advanced history teacher, wants the a** card statics removed. She deemed them hurtful and disrespectful for the people getting the most cards.
I am furious, who can she not understand that they wanted that statistic because they felt so mistreated. In my anger I just put a huge black box where the a** card article would have been with a white text rambling about how we are being censored by the school and how authorities censoring the free speech of an advanced history class is spitting in the face of what teaching history in Germany is all about.

My class all sign off on the text, the Ukrainian dude even sharpens the wording and we send it back to the layout guy.

The next day the phone rings and it’s my teacher/principal on the line, in tears, crying.
She said how stressful the last year was being announced temporary principal, being one year away from retirement and teaching history being her life, she was devastated by what she read and didn’t want her entire legacy tarnished by what we wrote.

I felt incredibly *****y and broke the news to the rest of the class. We all agreed that while the course was a nightmare, we weren’t ****y enough people to pull through with the whole thing. The article was changed and everyone was fine with the way we changed it.

I still have the original and censored version on my computer for old times sake.
A** card champions your hardships will never be forgotten!” GeneralCusterVLX

13. I Went Completely Ballistic On My Bully

“When I was in middle school I got picked on a lot, I was that really big kid who just did not stand up for himself. Every new school I went to it usually started okay, until one kid would test me and see me not do anything about it, then it would spread like wildfire. Needless to say, I had a miserable time in middle school. It was the spring and at the time I was a part of the track team, being a bigger kid that meant throwing shot-put and discus.

There was this one fat *** named Eric, who wasn’t all too popular himself, and he had decided to earn some cred for himself he would start laying into me. I would snap back at him every time he insulted, but I didn’t want to take it past there and he knew this. The constant insults continued for weeks, every day after school I had to stay for practice for a couple of hours, and here was Eric constantly heckling me. One day I decided I had enough, my mind was made up I was either going to get the *** kicked out of me or I was going to demolish this ***.
Having never been in a fight before I worked out how I wanted to do this for quite a while in my head before beginning, meanwhile the whole time he just kept running his mouth.

I was at the point between tears and blind rage, I was standing in the discus ring holding the discus, and there was his fat ginger face cackling at me. I decided I would throw the discus at him and then charge. In my mind’s eye, I imagined that the discus would hit him in the arm or back, or possibly even get slapped away as I ran towards him, after all I tossed it underhanded like a frisbee, not what I thought had any force behind it.
NOPE! Instead, he just stood there, staring as the discus flew towards his face. I will never forget the sound/sight of when the discus made contact. I could hear his jaw shatter as heavy spirt of *****shot from his face.

See Eric had braces, and not only did the discus break his jaw, and burst straight through his bottom lip, but it also quickly dislodged most of his front teeth, sending his brace wires sprawling in all directing digging into the flesh of his cheeks and gums.

The amount of ***** pouring from his face was nauseating, and all of a sudden the rage that had been building inside of me was gone and replaced by immense sadness for him.
He took off running towards the coaches, and I was right behind him. I couldn’t contain my crying as I followed step by step behind him, hearing the gargling wails and screams for help.

We were both ushered into the coach’s office quickly, I was too hysterical to answer any questions, the ambulance came and picked him up, and my way overprotective and somewhat sociopathic older brother came and sheltered me from the barrage of incriminating questions coming from the coaches.

My brother grabbed me to pull me out of the room and take me home, the coach shoved past him and pushed me back into the chair stating that I wasn’t going anywhere.
My brother turned around and knocked him out cold and we left.

Over the next few days, everyone kept their distance from me at school. The principal finally called me in and asked that I write a statement of what happened, I said it was an accident and that it slipped. Turns out the rest of the guys who were around had turned in statements saying the same thing, awhile later they confessed they thought Eric had it coming, and they were glad I had finally stood up for myself.

Truth is, I don’t feel great about it, as an adult, it is one of the memories that haunt me.
What makes it even worse, we moved that year and I ended up going to a different nearby high school in the same district. Freshman year at track practice the coach sat us down and told everyone my story as a cautionary tale of safety. I don’t think he knew it was me he was speaking about. Over the next few years I would hear classmates and teachers and other people in the community repeat it as almost an urban myth, all the while I sat quietly knowing the true story because it was about me.” dabear2002

12. Cheat On Me? I’ll Ruin Your Virtual Life And Your Real Life

Double whammy.

“I met my ex playing a game where the only purpose of the game (Basically) is to have a pretty looking cartoon, be popular, and get tons of interwebs poon.

(Second Life… obv it is more than that, but that was the game for him)

I found out he was cheating, he swears he’ll stop. This happens again. And again and finally I peace the *** out. But, he had been telling people that I was abusive. This is a guy who was verbally and mentally abusive, physically threatening, and extremely manipulative. And he told his harem of internet cartoon women that I was abusive? I lost my mind.

I made sure everyone knew what he looked like. He was 500+lbs and disgusting (not because of his weight exactly, but because of his complete lack of personal hygiene).
I told all those girls he swore his undying love to that he was phone-boning tons of other women.

I made sure the one person I knew would spread his picture around got a hold of it (I was also in the photograph, I showed it to this person knowing they’d take it and spread it around.) and I made his online life ****. Everyone knew what he was, that the pictures he was sending around were fake, that he lived in an apartment where his father came over multiple times a day to feed him, that he could hardly bathe himself.
His internet life on this game was all he had, he was totally immersed in the fantasy of it– so immersed that he threw away a relationship with a flesh and ***** person who had looked past all of his shortcomings and awful horrible behavior.

On the flip side, I’m sure he’s still rotting away somewhere. He stalked me for months afterward, I had to move, change my phone #, contact a lawyer. He continuously tried to get me back/ thought we were still going out/ thought we were getting back together. My long-term revenge is that he has no contact with me, he has no idea where I live, I am happy as a ****** clam, living with the love of my life, and becoming a happier healthier person every day.
Some part of me still wants to *** his *** up for messing with my life for 2+ years, but I ignore it these days.” TheOfficialStall

11. That Was The Last Time He Bullied Me

“The year was 1980-something and I was in fifth grade.

I was a chubby white nerd. There was a kid from 6th grade who used to bully me with his friends. Mostly just shoving, name-calling, and heckling, but there were a few times they got really nasty. Once was when I was feeling sick and I was in the bathroom at school. By total coincidence, the leader of this group saw me go in.
I puked in the toilet and the next thing I knew, he was behind me and pushed my face into my own puke. Another time, they picked up some dog *** on the way home. They picked it up with a paper bag, ran up behind me, and smashed the bag of dog *** on my head. This kind of stuff, mostly just heckling and fear-jeering, happened every day after school.

They lived one block past me, so no matter what route I took home, they could follow without being inconvenienced.

Every day, as I’d break off toward my house at the end of my walk, the leader kid would say, “you know you better not tell anyone, right?!” I’d say nothing.
And I told no one. After stuff like the puke and dog *** incidents, he’d grab me, get in my face, make some comment about how I was a total piece of garbage, and then he’d say, “if you tell anyone, I will kill you.” I never told anyone because of the way he said it made me believe he’d either kill me or beat me to within an inch of my life.

My uncle was a trucker. (Not actually my uncle, but I called him my uncle.) He used to drive cross-country and he always took his dog, Brutus. Despite his tough name, Brutus was a tiny Pomeranian.
We were at his house and he was telling us a story about two guys who tried to rob him at a truck stop while he was walking his dog.

Having been a trucker for 20+ years, he was used to seedy characters at truck stops. He was also well aware of wildlife that would come out to scrounge in the dumpsters and had come face to face with hungry forest creatures who thought his dog was a meal. Whenever he’d go out at night, he’d take his tire-thumper.

It’s basically an 18-24 inch hard wooden stick used to test semi-truck tires.
Don’t ask how it works. I’m not a trucker.

Anyway, the two guys confront him and as he goes for his wallet, he grabs the thumper hanging off his belt instead. He whacks one guy in the head and the other runs away. He takes off and he ended his story by saying that he didn’t know how hard he hit the guy. He wonders, to this day, if he actually may have killed the guy, but he said he looked at newspapers and never found anything. But this was the 80’s; once he left town, it would probably be hard to look up something like that.
As he told his story, all I could think of was “man, I wish I had a tire thumper to take care of that pr*ck who bullies me!” I think of his comment about the forest creatures and I ask if he has another tire thumper because there’s a mean dog that barks at me when I walk my own dog and that thumper sounds like good protection in case the dog ever comes after us.

He takes me out to his garage and hands me a tire thumper. I still remember that he had like 20 of them and they all had logos on them.
I guess banks give out free pens with “Chase Bank” and truck supply places give out free tire thumpers with “Tony’s Truck Part Emporium.” (The one he gave me was from “National Truck Parts.”)

The bullying continues. I keep the thumper in the umbrella sleeve on the side of my backpack. I’m too afraid to use it. It’s always 3 or 4 against 1. I might whack one, but the others could get me. I bide my time. On occasion, I see him alone after school, so I figure maybe I’ll make the one-on-one stand at that point.

I don’t know. I’m just scared overall.
This f*cking kid is like well beyond twice my size. He probably got held back and should have been in high school. I don’t really know, but he was by far, the biggest kid in school.

Anyway, my school is doing a project on Liberty and every class is making models of some kind of monument. BIG models. My class was doing the Statue of Liberty out of chicken wire and clay and papier-mâché. The teacher offered extra credit for anyone who stayed after school. I stayed.

I’m walking home after school figuring I’m safe since they left over an hour ago. Lo and behold, here comes the bully right behind me.
He must have stayed with his class too.

He’s alone. He’s not saying anything. Just walking.

I get to what we called “The Trails.” It’s a chunk of land where no houses had been built on the block. It was about 6 empty plots on one side and two on the other (shaped like an L, so you could cut through the middle instead of going all the way around the block). It was like a sparse forest and kids would come here to ride their bikes on the little trails that weaved through the trees and around the bushes. I would always take this short cut on my way to school, but never on the way home (they usually weren’t there to follow me to school, so I felt safe cutting through the little woods in the morning).

This time, I decided to take the shortcut home and if he followed me, I’d beat his butt.

As I got to The Trails, he started up with “hey fatso!” and “I don’t have my boys! You think you can take me?” Taunting bullsh*t.

I got about 20 feet into the woods and I heard him say, “Hey, if I cut your fat a** up in here, nobody’s gonna find you for days!”

I looked back and he had a pocket knife. He was waving it at me.

I said something like, “Just leave me alone!” And he said, “Time to gut a little piggy!”

He started running at me.
I grabbed my tire thumper and swung blindly. I heard a crack and a scream. It was a blood-curdling scream.

I don’t even know what I hit, but he was on the ground crying like a baby. I lifted the thumper above my head to beat the ever-loving sh*t out of him and he screamed for me to stop. My blind rage/fear clicked off. He was begging me to go get help.

Being a kid, I said something like, “I don’t want to get in trouble” or some stupid sh*t. But I was starting to feel really really bad about this. I mean, he was hurt.
He was hurt bad. I was just about to take my lumps and run to get help when through his tears, he said, “Go get me help, you fat ****** ****!”

I thought for a second, rage clicked on, and I brought that thumper down on his thigh as hard as I could.

I heard a crack and that rage clicked off immediately and turned to confusion. Not remorse. Maybe fear? I don’t know. He screamed again. The begging continued. He pleaded for me to get help. Now, all of a sudden, he was being very polite.

Out of nowhere, I heard someone yelling from the street 20-30-40 feet away, “You okay in there?! Hello?!”

I dropped down, covered his mouth with my hand, looked him straight in the eye, and said, “If you tell anyone, I will ****** kill you with your own knife after I break both your ****** legs!” Apparently, I’m a good actor because his eyes reflected the fact that he totally believed me and completely understood.
I took his pocket knife, hunkered down, and ran out of the forest toward my house.

He wasn’t in school for about a week. I was sh*tting bricks about getting in trouble, but no one ever came for me or questioned me. Without him, his buddies left me alone on the way home. When he came back, he had an arm in a cast (first hit – the blind one) and his leg in a cast (second hit).

The story he gave everyone was that he was walking through The Trails and fell off the makeshift ramp some kids built for their bikes.
He never bothered me again. His friends never bothered me either. I kept that thumper with me every day though. Probably stupid to carry around the weapon, but I was maybe 10 or 11 at most.

I didn’t know any better. I stashed his pocket knife in some insulation under a floor plank in the attic of my grandparents’ house that weekend. They sold the house shortly thereafter and I never had a chance to go back. I wonder if it’s still there.

In any case, that was the only thing I’ve ever done that outright hurt another person and it’s probably the only story I haven’t told anyone.
Not my wife, not my best friends, no one.

I still think about this 25-30 years later and I still I feel horrible about it. I always have, but I justify it because of the bullying. And when I was about to go get him help and bite the bullet for what I’d done, he pushed me again.

I just snapped. And, of course, he recovered, so it’s not like I left him broken for life. I’ve Googled him over the years and while he was arrested for domestic battery and animal abuse (in the late 90’s), he owns his own business now and his Facebook page gives the impression that he’s turned himself around.
He’s married to another lady and has a couple of kids. His current wife is a big lady and I have a feeling that if he tried smacking her around, she’d lay his a** out worse than I did.” Myzyri

10. I Didn’t Intend That He And His Wife Would Get Divorced, But They Did

But let’s be real, the wife does deserve someone better.

“A former friend wronged me, and I decided to exact revenge.

I felt the need for revenge to be harsh because we were pretty close as friends and felt that the revenge should match the heinousness of his offense.
In order to set the scene for my revenge, I must explain one of our mutual hobbies. He and I shared a common enjoyment for “working girls.”Occasionally, I would finance said adventures for both of us. This entailed getting a hotel suite with separate bedrooms, and two providers.

My revenge proceeded as follows:

Create a web page referring to his wife as “Bessy”, with accompanying pictures of a cow labeled with said moniker.

Create a link on that web page, titled “Click here to see Michael engaging in extramarital relations with an escort.” Clicking on this link led to a page with an email link saying that one should email with any request to see what I described.

I then emailed the object of my revenge with the link to this website. I described to him how I snuck in the room during our last adventure and took several revealing photos of him and the young lady he was getting sweaty with. (I had not). I also included in this email the email addresses of numerous people, such as his wife, executives of his employer, board members of his church, etc, and said I had sent the link to them. (I had not).

I thought that would be the end of it. Some ballbusting, a few nonsensical insults traded, and done.
But, he took me at my word. He decided that the best thing to do would be to confess to his wife before she found out.

So that’s what he did. And it resulted in him and his wife getting divorced.

That wasn’t my intent.” billybob62

Another User Comments:

“Even though that wasn’t your intent, you sort of did his now ex wife a favor.” pertante

9. He Learned The Hard Way That Being Casteist Isn’t Cool

“India, especially rural India, still has a persistent caste problem, even though it is constitutionally outlawed. People like to deny it, but it’s still very much present in the collective consciousness.
Think of it like racism in USA, but more complex, with multiple castes, subcastes, and sub-subcastes involved.

I’m from the ‘lowest’ caste that was (and in cases where the lower caste and lower class intersect, is still) forced to clean sewage, and clean the streets of animal carcasses and the like.

I, personally, or my family, are not as unfortunate, because we are moderately middle class and can afford to live in affluent areas in towns/cities.

I was a fifth-grade kid, and I aced every class up to that point, and even after that, for practically my whole school life. So ten-year-old me couldn’t fathom why one of my closest friends who always used to share my lunch suddenly stopped one day, and wouldn’t even eat with me anymore.
In retrospect, I had seen some other kids from the class whisper something in my friend’s ear just that day.

At least for the next few months, these kids were wary of being around me, and seemed to murmur to each other when I’d pass by.

I knew they were making fun of me, but I didn’t know why – in my own little mind then, one that didn’t understand the sociopolitical dynamics of a system as entrenched in the India psyche as caste, I was not inferior to any of them in any way. In fact, I was superior to them in almost all ways (except perhaps in PE).
Over the course of that year, I got to learn about what caste is and how my friend stopped eating with me just because I was born to a certain set of parents.

One fine day, I was passing by the mound of construction sand in the playground where the kids used to play during recess, and one of the kids said something along the lines of “Hey look, it’s the extremely bad caste-based slang here” (think ‘mudblood’ from Harry Potter).

Moreover, this was said by one of the kids I considered my friend. Looking back at it, this was one of the few times in my whole school life that someone was able to get me angry.
I’d had months of the ostracization, and I wasn’t having literal slang thrown around at me.

I went to where the kids were standing, and tried to do something I’d seen in a movie – that thing where you make a person keel over with your foot and bash their head into the ground with your hand – and whatddaya know – I was actually able to do it. Thankfully, it was near the sand mound so the kid only got his face stuck in and full of sand, but he seemed like he was in bad shape when he got up, and ever since, it’s one of those incidents where I think I acted too impulsively.

None of those kids called me using slang anymore, though, and thankfully as we grew up, they learned that being casteist – just like being racist – at least openly, is frowned upon.” _John-Titor_

8. Abuse My Dog For No Reason? You’re About To Get Intimate With The Concrete

“Okay so, complete honesty I don’t really regret this as much as I should, but some regret is still there, so here we go.

When I was around 16 some sh*thead neighbor kids started picking on my sister’s dog. The dog stayed in the backyard because, despite being incredibly friendly and gentle with people, and super tiny she would tear through furniture.
We had a huge fence, but there was one hole in it just big enough for these ***** kids (all-around 10-12 yo) to stick their BB gun through to take potshots at my sister’s dog in the middle of the night.

We tried calling the police and talking to their parents and got nowhere. My dad told me he was going to keep talking to the parents but I was completely done seeing someone hurt this tiny, incredibly sweet little dog, and decided I’d get these kids to stop my own way.

So I sat outside near the garage where I wouldn’t be noticeable and waited with the most threatening thing I owned at the time, which was a crowbar.
Sure enough the kids showed up, got out their gun, and I jumped out, let out some primal scream “*** UP MY DOG AND I’LL *** YOU UP”, and chased after them.

I had zero intention of actually hitting any of them, but I did manage to scare the heck out of them, and chased them about halfway down the alley back to their house.

One kid tripped and ate ***, but it was dark and I figured that he was fine. I just yelled out some final parting threat, told them to leave the dog alone, and went home.

Turns out the kid’s face got a lot more intimate with the concrete than I’d thought.
He just about tore half his freaking face off, and look like **** for about a year after that (only saw him once after it was healed, and it healed pretty okay). One of the other kids also apparently fell and fractured his arm. The cops were called, I told them the full honest story, and they chalked it up to stupid kid crap. I did learn from my dad after the fact that the parents were really messed up people, though, and half the reason the kids were so awful is because they were getting worse from their parents at home.

We’re pretty sure that’s why they left the neighborhood a few years later, finally got taken by CPS.

I still think these kids kind of deserved what they got for shooting at an innocent animal, but nobody deserves abuse like they were getting at home, and that’s enough to make me feel kinda bad about it.” EthanEpiale

7. I Ruined Several Weeks Of His Coding Project Over A Petty Argument

“I had a hardcore programmer friend who would write C/C++ raw in a text editor and compile it manually from the command line. For the uninitiated, this is like the programming equivalent of making artwork in MS Paint.
Except it gives you extra geek points and supposedly makes you a more aware and careful programmer.

I was slightly annoyed at him because of a petty argument we had earlier about whether it actually teaches you better programming practices if you do everything minimal like that, or if it just makes you look like an extremely impractical dweeb. There were some other topics there, but I cared more about proving him wrong about that one thing.

So when he was away from his computer, I scrolled through his program and randomly removed semicolons, and placed semicolons in places where there shouldn’t have been any.
This is an act of pure sin. Improperly placed semicolons are a common cause for stupid inconveniences in a C program, where they are supposed to mark the end of a single statement. The resulting error given by most compilers is notoriously hard to decipher.

The idea of the prank was that it’s extremely trivial to fix this problem with a modern code editor, like the one in Visual Studio because it highlights all the lines that have invalid syntax. I thought I was proving the point beautifully. Content with my evil scheme, I saved the editor and closed/reopened the file to prevent him from pressing ctrl+z.
This was a horrible mistake. It turns out, being accustomed to a simple text editor with very little convenience features, he had been relying on shortcuts like ctrl+z for his workflow. He had briefly removed a huge chunk of his project so that he could test whether some broken code would work properly without everything else running, and he was planning on using ctrl+z to undo everything back to normal after he was finished.

So by closing and re-opening the file, I had essentially deleted several weeks of his hard work and effort.

He didn’t talk to me for a while, and ultimately our friendship fizzled out in the end, due to unrelated things.
But that incident will stay in my memory FOREVER.” EMILY_WAS_HERE

6. Go Ahead, Copy Off Of Me, And See What Happens

“Okay, so back in high school, my last class of the day was algebra. I was (still am) horrible at it and I relied on my good friend to tutor me to get me through since the teacher wasn’t all that great either. Every quarter she’d change the seating arrangements and when she’d give out assignments and tests, she’d just tell us to put them on the back table.

Keep that in mind.

So after the first quarter, I was seated next to these two girls who kept spending most of the period on their phones, talking, walking out of class, getting detentions left and right, basic delinquent stuff.
They had a small posse of other troubled kids who often got into fights on campus. During out midterms, I overheard them planning to steal the answer sheet from the teacher’s desk and copying from it. I didn’t think they’d actually do it, but on that day one of the girls had gotten up to distract the teacher while the other snatched the answers, took a picture, then put it back. It got me furious because I was trying so hard and failing while these chicks were cheating and sailing by.

The breaking point was when I caught them copying off of my friend’s papers.
Just taking it after she’d turn it in and copying all of it. I had waited for everybody to leave class then I told the teacher about them cheating. Didn’t work. I told my friends about it and THEY told the teacher, didn’t work.

Finally, they resorted to copying me. I already had a failing grade at this point and it was the end of the semester, so I let them copy everything. Every. single. wrong. answer. Their grades sank like the titanic and it became apparent that something was fishy to the teacher. Cue me reporting them one last time, then the teacher makes a public announcement the next day that she ‘caught’ students cheating.

The girls were ready to *** themselves then and there.

On the last week of school, the girls disappeared. I heard that they were both taken out of their classes by police and never seen again, save for one of them causing a brawl in the science labs. They were expelled that same week. I never told anybody about it until after I had graduated out of fear of retaliation, but I felt a bit bad that I had essentially ruined their academic lives for them. I retook algebra the next year and passed, so that’s a win.” pringle-prangle

5. Hate Me Because Of My Skin Color? Kiss Your Teaching Credential Goodbye

Here’s a little piece of advice anywhere you go in life: just don’t be racist.

“When I was in 5th grade my teacher left since her dad was dying and we got stuck with a temp teacher. She was getting her teaching license and since the first day, I met her I knew this **** hated me. I went to a basically all caucasian school. I was the only brown girl in my class and there were only two other black girls in the class as well.

Now, I’ve always been good with math and I have no idea why but when she would hand math test back (I usually got 100s or in the 90s) she would say I shouldn’t be too happy and it was a coincidence.
She always had to say some foul *** when I did something.

Whenever I did anything,  she would mark me down. If you got 3+ marks throughout the week, you couldn’t have fun on Fridays, which is when you could go to any room in the 5th-grade hall and watch a movie, play games, etc. Somehow I always had detention by the end. I usually never went to detention because when she would leave to use the bathroom either I or my guys friend Shadi (who also sat in the front and was my homie all year) would erase our marks and the other kids too (ones we liked).
The other kids were fine if we erased marks for them too.

One day, I got up to use the bathroom and Shadi used the boy’s bathroom in the room.

When I came back,  I asked the temp teacher if I could get the answers that were reviewed she said no and to get in line for lunch. Shadi asks her and she says ” Yes, I’ll give you the answers.” Shadi and I talked all lunch about this ****. I knew I had to get back at this woman, so I told Shadi it was because I was brown and he was white.
Once I got out that day, I cried to my mom about how I was racially discriminated against and that was all she needed to hear. My mom happened to be friends with the principal and knew the superintendent of the county. This blew up big since my mom was stirring up a storm and they didn’t want this to come to light.

I still remember how Mrs. A  her last name sounded just like my first name, so she made people call me by middle which I hate) cried and said she must have been tired when she said that she didn’t give me the answer because I was brown (the game of telephone is a real thang heh) and to speak up for her and say I didn’t mean it I front of the principal, my parents, Shadi and his parents (he was mixed too but was white) and the board including the superintendent.
I said she said that to me and Shadi was my witness.

She was gone the next day and had her teaching license removed. When she came back to visit us I even gave her a hug and I could see on her face the disgust and hatred.

I still feel good about it haha but she did lose her certification and was working at a temp agency helping others get a job. I honestly never expected her to lose her job.” kimakiya

4. I Nearly Killed Him After He Stole My Crackers

“When I was in Kindergarten, there was a kid who bullied me constantly.
He was much bigger than I was, and since I was new to the school he was more popular with other kids than I was. I would give in to his demands almost every day, giving up my precious bag of Ritz cheese snacks.

I ***** love Ritz cheese snacks.

I decided that what he needed was a little power check, to let him know he couldn’t go ordering people around all the time.

Since hand-to-hand combat was not a viable option, I thought my best option would be to pull his chair out from behind him as he was sitting down for lunch, cartoon style.
At lunch that day I grabbed a book, strolled around and started nonchalantly reading behind him until he stood up. After 5 minutes of waiting, he finally did, I executed the plan flawlessly. I waited for him to fully commit to a sitting motion before yanking the chair away and gravity did the rest.

His a*s hit the ground much harder than I had imagined, banging into the ground with a hefty smack. I thought instantly that his butt had been fractured, and possibly popped a disc in his spine. At the very least he was going to walk with a limp for the rest of his life.

When he fell back his head banged against the chair, which only seconds prior had been positioned under his posterior, flinging his head forward and probably giving him whiplash. The pack of planters peanuts he was holding scattered across the room and his tears flowed shortly after.

I was punished more leniently than I expected for the permanent crippling of another student, only having to spend playtime inside for the day. Imagine my surprise when a perfectly (though warier) bully walks in the door after playtime, none worse for the wear, sporting only a bruised butt to show for the near-murder I had just committed.
This was 15 years ago so I may be remembering things a little differently than they actually happened.

At least he didn’t take my Ritz crackers after that.” DaVinciSquid

3. He Felt The Burn… Literally

“I worked in a private country club kitchen for a number of years. A co-worker and I used to get in towel snapping fights all the time. We were brutal to each other, hiding under prep tables to snap each other in the balls and such. He got the last shot on me one day in front of the GM, and the GM put a stop to it.
As competitive as I am, I wasn’t satisfied just letting it die out.

Through all that, we were pretty good friends. He was the communal Gold Bond holder of the kitchen, and most of the employees would powder up regularly.

His only stipulation was that you pitch in for the next bottle. It got really warm later in September one year, and I used the last of the supply. Figuring we wouldn’t need any more until the following spring, I stuck the empty in my locker to remind me to get some more or pitch in. I found a new job the next January.
When I was cleaning out my locker and found the empty Gold Bond bottle, I figured I could get my revenge for the last towel snap.

I filled the Gold Bond bottle with powdered sugar for the sticky effect, powdered ginger for color, cornstarch for slurry effect when it touched sweat, and ground white pepper for a burn. Looked exactly the same, close to the same feel and weight in the bottle.

I stuck it in his locker and made my way to a new job. I figured I’d hear from him late May, cussing me out and laughing about it.

Turns out, it was pretty warm and very humid in April that year.
We always did huge banquets for Easter, and often had a few of the kitchen staff out in the dining room carving or preparing desserts for members. He was supposed to be carving that day. Right before doors opened he went outside and had a cig, then decided to powder up. He was already pretty sweaty, so the sugar and cornstarch got sticky right away. Then the burn started. I don’t think any of us were ever stingy with the Gold Bond on a humid day.

We usually looked like walking drug dispensaries. But now he had to get to the dining room and carve, all sticky and burning.
He ran to the members changing room with pants around his knees, cursing up a storm, and hopped in the shower. The water and cornstarch mixture and made a paste, and the pepper was still burning. He finally made it back to his spot to carve about 30 minutes late, then ripped into some of the employees after service, figuring they had done it.

I’m pretty sure he was told I did it later on. No one knew it was me until later the next week when the Exec Chef called me, asking if I might have played a part in it, then getting p*ssed at me when I copped to it, telling me he was thinking about firing this employee that day.

I ended up having this employee as a customer a few years after this happened, and we laughed about it, but neither of us was in any mood to extend the battle.” hoohoohaa13

2. Be A Total Brat? No More Long, Lucious Hair For You

NEVER, and I mean never, mess with a girl’s hair.

“When we were 7 or 8, I was staying the night at my friend G’s house. Her family was really nice and she had lots of pets and toys. I was over there a lot. G was pretty spoiled, in my opinion, and she was an only child so her parents doted on her.
This made G act like a brat sometimes, behavior that would not have flown at my house.

I remember one night, at bedtime, G gave her parents a hard time about going to bed. I was rolling my eyes because she was being such a brat, even before bedtime, she had been irritating me and her parents. For some reason, we were chewing gum at bedtime. Her parents told her to spit it out, but she said she would when she got in bed. They allowed this for some reason. I instinctively stopped chewing my gum but didn’t swallow it. I began to hatch a plan.
I was a vindictive little kid. I had an older brother who acted like he was getting paid to psychologically torture me. So, once G and I were settled in our beds, side by side in her little kid room, I looked at the back of her head and her long brown hair, and I very sneakily put my chewed up gum behind her head on her pillow.

“Hey G?” I called out.

G goes, “Huh?” And rolls over to face me. Just smashing the back of her head into the gum all hard.

“Never mind,” I told her. And she rolled her head back over.
It had gone exactly according to plan. I felt better about what a **** she had been that night and slept just fine.

The next morning, I woke up to G’s mom screaming at G for her carelessness, and I walked out and saw them in the kitchen. G was sitting in a chair crying and her mother was cutting her long brown hair.

“I told you to spit your gum out before bed, G!” Her mother yelled as G sobbed and defended herself.

G had spit out her gum.

I had watched her. So then I felt bad. I wasn’t like my brother, I didn’t enjoy her pain.
I was too good at revenge for my own good. Her hair had been SOOOOO LONG. Like maybe she’d been growing it all her life.

On the other hand, G didn’t have any siblings and she needed to learn how to not be annoying. So I remain conflicted to this day. But yeah, definitely didn’t think that one through and felt really bad that all her hair got cut off.” ChippyCuppy

1. Ruthless Bully Loses Vision In One Eye

“Back in the 5th grade it was the middle of winter. I’m female, there was a boy in the 6th grade who was constantly bullying me.
This kid was ruthless.

He took every possible opportunity to hurt me physically, mentally, emotionally. The school never did anything, my mom speaking to his parents on several occasions never did anything.

At recess, we would all go outside. We had two walls built up in the field, about 20 paces of space in between them. Grade 5 kids behind one wall, the grade 6 kids behind the opposite wall facing us. We would have snowball wars, hiding behind the walls and popping up to launch snowballs at the other side. It was fun, except that my bully would always target me most often, and being that he was a boy, older, bigger, and stronger than me, I was always ending up hurt more than other kids.

One day, I finally decide I’ve had enough. I’m so angry that I keep being told to tell an adult when he picks on me, yet nothing ever happens, he’s never reprimanded, or suspended, or even spoken to about his ways. I decide “*** it” and take matters into my own hands. I made 5 special snowballs at home. Painstakingly shaping them, spritzing them with water, shaping them some more, more water. Until I’ve created 5 super compact balls of pure ice. Recess hits and I start to feel a wave of anxiety rushing over me. Asking myself if I should carry out the plan, eventually deciding I will go ahead with it, because *** him.
The battle begins, and I am near the end of one wall, he is near the end of his wall, opposite me.

I keep my eyes on him, popping up and down. For once he wasn’t paying attention to me, and was busy trying to take out a kid down the line, near the other end of my wall. I decided it was perfect timing, and I’m peeking around the side of the wall watching him, waiting for him to stand up again.

I watch him closely, and he pops up, still focused on the other kid. I jump up and fire off a second ice ball.
A direct hit! I nailed him in the face and he went down hard. A second before I did, the bell rang, and all the kids behind each wall stood up to start heading inside. As a result, neither he nor anyone else saw where the iceball that hit him had come from.

I start heading in towards the school with everyone else, smiling to myself. Feeling so proud of myself for finally standing up to him, even though he was not aware I had done it. It was a huge victory in my mind. And, as I’m walking back, I hear some kids screaming ****** murder back at the wall behind me.
I get over there, and sure enough, it’s my bully causing the ruckus. He’s on the ground, holding his right eye. There’s ***** everywhere. He’s screaming, crying hysterically. The other kids around him and freaking out. Some kids were already running to the teacher that had been on duty. She was over near the school, and upon hearing the noise, was already on her way over.

She clears the kids around the bully away, and gets in close to him, she’s kneeling, trying to get him to calm down. She tells him to move his hand and let her see his eye.
He’s sobbing and screaming that he can’t, that his eyeball will fall out. She grabs his hand and eases it away while holding him down and trying to calm him down with her words. I’m looking down at him from a few feet away, surveying the scene with dread boiling up inside me, so many feelings running through my mind.

As she pulls his hand away, I get a glimpse of the carnage. Sure enough, it appears as though his eyeball is not all the way in the socket.

There’s ***** everywhere, and at the time I naively thought the ***** was from inside the eyeball, which no longer appeared to be a globe.
The eyeball wasn’t completely out or hanging down on his cheek or anything, but it was popped way out of the socket, and looked to be cut open and kind of…deflated? Not sure how else to describe it. I found out later the ***** was from a huge gash just below his eyebrow.

So, an ambulance came, rushed him away. Classes were canceled for the rest of the day, the kids who had witnessed the carnage were in shock. Police arrived. Students were held in the gymnasium and questioned by the police. Threats were made by police, parents and school staff.

They begged and pleaded and threatened all the students, trying to get someone to confess or rat the culprit out.
The reality is, somehow, inexplicably, nobody had noticed I did it. Because of the perfect timing of the bell, I had thrown it at the exact right time, a time when everyone had popped up at once to throw the snowball they had at the time, and start heading back to the school.

The bully wasn’t at school for two weeks after that. Nobody really knew the extent of the damage until he came back to school. He wore an eye patch. He had needed 18 stitches in the gash below the eyebrow. His entire demeanor had changed. He was sullen, quiet, often appeared fearful around others.

He stayed indoors for every recess and lunch break from then on. His parents dropped him off, walked him to the door, and picked him up at the door every day.

I found out along the way that the eyeball had in fact been split open and damaged heavily. I guess doctors had tried to save it, even though he was permanently blinded in that eye. But, whatever it was they tried, did not end up working. In the end, he lost the entire eyeball. Kids started to bully him, because of his attitude change, because he was different. They would pin him down and rip the eye patch off to get a look at his eyeball-less socket.
Kids picked on him almost as relentlessly as he had picked on me.

Which, only served to break him even more. After a year, his parents put him in another school, but it was a small town. Kids eventually figured out which school, and would even walk over there at lunch break or after school to taunt him some more. Eventually, his parents pulled him out of school entirely, he was homeschooled after that.

I never spoke up. Never said a word to anyone. Never told a soul until a few years ago. Even then, it was only online, a confession to random internet strangers.
I have carried the guilt with me ever since that day. I can say that I learned a lot from the experience. It changed me in many ways, it helped me in many ways.

It taught me very valuable lessons that I can honestly say shaped me into a much better human being than I ultimately may have become.

I did try to make it up to him, without letting him know it was my fault. I befriended him, I tried to be kind and compassionate to him. I tried to defend him from his bullies. Protect him on the days his parents were late picking him up.
I started odd jobs for extra cash. My parents were thrilled thinking I was developing a good work ethic, but I wasn’t doing it for any reason other than to give him the money I earned. His family was poor. His father was an alcoholic and an abuser. His mother was meek, mousy and run down.

The victim of many drunken attacks from her husband. I would give him my earnings every week for two years. He never really understood why I had befriended him, or why I gave him money to buy things like candies and games or to buy his lunches at the cafeteria since his family was often too poor to send him with lunch.
But, he did appreciate it.

I left town after two years. Moved to another province. I tried to keep tabs on him through old friends and family. I never stopped thinking about him, and the guilt never stopped tormenting me. I learned years later that he had taken his own life when he was 17. He’d mailed the same ******* letter to several people.

Including police, several adults, and a few of the friends he had managed to make over the years. One of those friends was a mutual friend of mine, we kept in contact a few times a year. It was this friend who told me about his unfortunate end.
She sent me a photocopy of the letter. It was 4 pages long, and it was more of a witness statement than a letter. In it, he detailed his home life. His father’s abuse and alcoholism. His mother’s problems. He talked about how his uncle/father’s brother had always lived with them. And how he had been ******** abused by this uncle his entire life. The letter was very detailed, very graphic. He had even secretly recorded his uncle taking advantage of him twice and left instructions in the letter for police to find the VHS tape he had hidden in his parent’s garage.

The tape also had recordings both audio and visual of his drunken father beating his mother repeatedly.

The letter mentioned the accident, him losing the eye, and how it changed him so entirely. But, in the end, he was just too broken to go on. He no longer wanted to fight his demons, or live with the abuse.

His parents and uncle were arrested and charged. I don’t know what happened to them after that. The case was never made very public. I tried to research it, and follow what may have happened. I guess because he was a minor, the details were never really released.
There were a few articles that talked about his death, and memorials held for him. The town built a park bench with his name on it.

But, that’s about it. I never found any other articles that even mentioned the letter or the tape.

Thank you for posting this thread. The last time I posted about this story, I was not able to bring myself to write down all of the details. This was really hard for me to get through, but I needed to get through it. I feel guilty saying I feel a little better getting it all out there, because how dare I feel better at all after my actions caused such a horrifying chain of events ending in a young life ending prematurely? But, I do feel a little better, and now, maybe I can find the strength to bring this story and these emotions up with my therapist.

Maybe I can finally start to heal, even though I don’t deserve to heal.” raz0rlips

These are personally some of the harshest acts of revenge I’ve ever read about. Which one of these stories do you believe was the worst in terms of how cruel it was overall and how severe it was for the reason behind the act? It’s hard for me to pick just one! Got anything to share? Let us know.