Imagine coming home to find your neighbor and her five kids swimming in your pool after you’ve told her no a 100 times. But when I called the cops, she told them I was an illegal trespasser and that she owned my house. 

 

 

 Karen tells cops that I am trespassing on my own land while she is swimming in my pool. There was a time when the words private property meant something, but some people don’t seem to understand the concept. My neighbor Karen is that way. I live in a rural area and thought that I would have plenty of space to be able to enjoy my lifestyle.

 I have a nicesized property and there’s gardens and a pool on it. The pool is fenced in, but if you’re tall enough, you can manage to reach over to unledge the gate. The safety gate, by the way, has more than one ledge to try and keep everyone as safe as possible. And being in a rural community, I do it as much for the protection of any children that could stray away from home, as well as animals that wander into my yard.

 Karen has repeatedly come over to ask if she can use my pool, but I’ve always told her no. Why not? She always says, “You’re not in it right now.” “Well, that doesn’t matter. I don’t let anyone else use my pool.” I said, “It is too much for me to need to worry about other people’s safety. The kids and I all know how to swim,” said Karen.

 Then just use the public pool, I replied. They have lifeguards there, too. What if you were to take your eyes off your children for a few minutes and something happened? Nothing is going to happen, said Karen. We just want to cool off. Please respect my wishes, I said. I don’t come onto your property and tell you that I want to read my book in your garden or drink a glass of wine on your deck.

 Why would you? asked Karen. You already have a deck in your garden. I don’t have a pool. Well, you could if you wanted to, I said. I bought my property with one on it because that is what I wanted to have. You must have always gotten what you wanted in your life, said Karen. I would love to have a pool, but there’s not enough room on my property to have the one that I would like, and I cannot afford it either.

 Having five kids, my husband is in a military. Doesn’t his service mean anything to you? Of course it does, I replied. However, that doesn’t change how I feel about my pool and my private space. In addition to being concerned about the kids safety around the pool, if ever, Karen was not watching them well enough, I’m also somewhat of a germaphobe, and the thought of swimming in the same water after other people have really grosses me out.

 

 But I didn’t tell Karen that because not all of my fears are her business. Karen asked me at least once a week, and my answer was always the same. However, sometimes when I would get home, I had the sneaking suspicion that something was off. Occasionally a lawn chair would be out of place or my umbrella on the patio table would be turned.

 However, I couldn’t be sure that it was not the fault of the wind or a wild animal and not a human. I considered getting cameras but didn’t feel that I really wanted to spend money on that at this point. One day I got home and found Karen and her children in my pool. I was absolutely shocked because I hadn’t wanted to believe that someone could actually go to such length to get what they wanted when they had been told they couldn’t have it over and over again.

 I got goosebumps knowing that I’d been swimming in my own pool and that it hadn’t been the wind or a wild animal or a wild Karen that had been using my property, but Karen and her five young children. I was absolutely disgusted by it as I told Karen to get out. She refused and therefore I called the police on her. Karen and the children were still in the pool when the police arrived.

 Also, to preface the situation, Karen always made weird comments about people’s backgrounds and once asked me where I was really from, even though I was born in this country. I don’t know if she tried to put me down with that or what her intention was, but it certainly wasn’t positive. “Ma’am,” said the officer with a badge that read Kennedy on it, “I need you and your children to get out of the pool immediately.

 I want you to get dried off and then come on over here to talk to me while my partner stays with your children.” Officer, why are you accosting me in my own home? asked Karen. Your home? Said Kennedy. Mrs. OP said that the property is hers and that you are swimming in her pool. There appears to be some kind of confusion. I’m the homeowner, I said.

I’ve been for just over a year now. And you have proof of that, said Kennedy. In the house I do. You cannot let her into my house. She is trespassing on my property. I own this house and land, said Karen from inside the pool. She is lying to you. She’s the gardener, an illegal immigrant, and you should deport her.

 Do you have proof of what you’re saying? Asked Kennedy. No, but if you take her with you, you will surely be able to find something on your end. This is my home, I said. I have the address of my identification. Karen and her family live a few houses down. I got the key to the house and the deed inside. Officer Kennedy allowed me to open the door while his partner stayed outside and kept an eye on Karen and the kids in the pool.

 Inside I was able to prove that it was my home and that the paperwork was real and well that I was a true citizen of the country I was in and not an illegal immigrant. I’d been born in this country and it upset me that Karen could come up with such lies just because I did not want her swimming in my pool. Would you like to press charges? Asked Officer Kennedy.

 Not really. I said if Karen gets arrested then her children will have no one to care for them and Karen’s husband is in the military if she is telling the truth about that. Anyway, I want her to stop coming onto my property and begging to use the pool and then using it without my permission.

 I want to have my privacy and not have others in my pool. Even my own siblings don’t use it when they come over. They know that I’m a germaphobe and have issues with people using the same water. Officer Kennedy returned outside and told Karen that she had to get out of the pool or else she’d be arrested.

 Karen begrudgingly got herself and the kids out of the pool. It seemed like she took forever getting them and herself dried off. Then she went to speak with Officer Kennedy while the children stayed with Officer Nelson. Meanwhile, I was asked to go back into the house while they dealt with the situation. I complied but had an open window where I could still hear everything that was taking place.

 And Karen was not quiet in her protests. You will leave this property and you will not return to it again or else we will arrest you at that point. You’re getting off lucky today with a warning because if you wanted Mrs. OP could have pressed charges and you would have gone to the station on charges of trespassing and making false declarations.

 Lawsuits and jail time could be very costly and as Mrs. OP pointed out, your children should not be without both a mother and a father and therefore we are letting you off with a warning, but you are never to return to the premises. Do you understand? Karen said that she did and left in a huff. I would have thought that should have been the end of it.

However, after only a week, I found Karen once again lurking on the edge of my property. And soon, she was begging to be allowed to use the pool, stating that nothing bad had happened when she had used it before, and that she was perfectly capable of watching her children in it. “Absolutely not,” I said. “No one uses my pool but me.

 I won’t tell you again that if you come onto my property, there will be consequences.” “What are you going to do?” asked Karen. “Call the police.” I know someone who could get me a card printed up proving you’re actually from another country and here legally. It could look so real that you would have the police wondering about its authenticity.

 Do what you want, I said, not wanting to fight with Karen. However, as she was menacing me, I began to get a plan in my mind. Perhaps it was pranks on television shows that gave me the idea. There was a side gate on the property that I never used. However, it was how Karen always came into my yard. I went to the store and got the necessary supplies to rig up a trap.

 And the next time that Karen came onto the property with her children, they got water dumped onto their heads. They laughed, laughing at my joke. Get a sprinkling. We will think about using it instead of your pool, said Karen. Go home, I said. The next time that Karen visited again, it wasn’t water that awaited her though, but orange juice.

And this time, she and her children were coated in sticky juice. They were going to require a bath and they needed to hurry home before the burks decided that they were a tasty snack. After that, Karen and her children never dared to set foot on my property again. I think they had finally learned their lesson.

They were not permitted to be on my property or in my pool and that I was not going to put up with the trespassing or having others think that they owed what I had worked hard for. And yes, the orange juice trap was the end of it and the police did not have to be called again to settle the dispute.

 I sometimes saw Karen after that, as was to be extended, living in the same neighborhood expected, but she wasn’t a problem for me anymore. Word of the predicament made its way around our town, and people spent weeks talking about how they had wished that they had thought of something like the orange juice trap themselves.

 It seemed that my yard was not the only one that Karen had thought of as her own. Karen had actually been taking people’s flowers and picking their fruits and vegetables for years. One neighbor even had Karen’s kids claim the treehouse in the yard as theirs so that her own children didn’t get to use it when they wanted.

 However, Karen always used the excuse of being a military wife, which people tended to not want to argue against, they knew that Karen was likely under a great deal of stress. And while I could prospect that Karen had stress in her life, I had stress in my knew that every single person in our neighborhood had a backstory and that it needed to be respected.

 After the orange juice, others had began threatening something similar when it came to her. And it seemed that she finally knew she had to stay on her own property and make the best life that she could in that space. Slowly, I was able to get back to feeling comfortable in my space and to enjoy the home and property that I had chosen to buy as my private oasis.

 And the next one is a fantastic malicious compliance story. And if you enjoyed the story so far, please don’t forget to like the video and click that hype button to support me. So, I worked in a factory job making display boxes for items that were being assembled on a conveyor belt. After a couple days, I got to where I could make a box pretty damn fast.

 And I was always done sooner than the ladies working the conveyor belt, so I would step in and give them breaks. It was really hot in the factory. One lady was pregnant and passed out a couple times. And we had a few older people faint as well. I was young, strong, and wanted to help them out by giving them a break. I asked the line boss how many of the items we would make in a run so I could do the simple division in my head and figure out how many boxes I needed to make before I could step in to help on the line.

 She was a petty person who liked to wield the little power she held over the rest of us. So, she refused to tell me, saying it wasn’t my job to know and that my job was just to make boxes. Okay, then that’s my job. You say my only job? Okay, guess I’ll just make boxes then. And I did. I made boxes.

 I made as many as I could as fast I could. And I didn’t stop until the run was over. We had hundreds of boxes that the whole team had to break down and stack for reuse later. And the floor manager came over and asked the line boss what the heck was going on. After that, the line boss always grudgingly told me how many items were in the run.

 And when I finished my work, I would step in and help out on the line to give someone a break. Suck it, line boss. And the next one is a super petty revenge story, and it is titled the pettiest of petty, but damn, it made me laugh. I’ve enjoyed lurking here and hope you will enjoy this fond memory as much as I enjoy remembering it.

 It was many years ago, but I still laugh when I recall that day. I was on a highway traveling northbound. The route is divided two lanes either direction. I eventually needed to exit right to get eastbound onto the interstate. A couple of three miles before my exit, I found myself behind a real doing. This guy was going about 10 under the speed limit.

The typical flow of traffic in this area is five to 10 over. So I thought I would get over into the passing lane and get around him quick before I had to exit. I get in the left lane and he speeds up. So I speed up a little more. He guns it. So I thought, hey, he realized he’s going way too slow.

 I’m not trying to get a speeding ticket out here. So I got back in the right lane and dropped in behind him now. Doing about five over with several car lengths between us. But as soon as I got settled back in that lane, he starts slowing down again. And now we’re going even slower, like 11 or 12 under. So I ease back into the left lane and the s guns it again.

Now doing at least 15 over and I cannot pass it without a criminal level of speeding. So I let off the gas and let him get ahead. And that is when I noticed this jackass has his driver’s window all the way down. And I knew right then what I was going to do. I e back in behind him. Predictably, he goes back to turtle speed.

 Third time, I get into the left lane and start to pass. He speeds up and when he lines up so that I’m right next up to him. I veer to my right, hugging the striped line as close to him as I can legally be. And I pulled the lever to activate my windshield washer. I held it with mischief’s joy, spraying and spraying and spraying just as I hoped.

 It went straight into his open window and soaked him. Yeah, I got him good. Not just the arm he had propped up on the door. I got him all over the side of his stupid face. He let off the gas, shook his head like a wet dog, pretty sure I got it in his ear, and wiped his face with his hand. Laughing manically, I gunned it, got in front of him, and exited onto the interstate about a quarter mile later.

 I laughed and laughed for miles. I laughed until I cried and my cheeks and rips hurt. I still laugh about it. Hopefully, you will, too. And now, let’s move on to the next story. It starts like this. HOA president shoots farm animals and calls police on farmer. In a small town of South Africa resided a peaceful community filled with the typical HOA regulations and rules.

 Each house was almost identical. The front lawns were always perfectly manicured and the streets were always clean. But there was one problem and you might be wondering what or who this problem was. Of course me. It was I who was the problem and problem for who you are asking? Well, of course, for our beloved HOA president.

You see, I’m a farmer who had lived on my farmland for decades. The land had been passed down through my family for generations and held a great sentimental value to me. However, the HOA president, a wealthy businessman, had always despised me and my farm animals as he saw them as dirty and disruptive to the order of the community, whatever that was supposed to mean.

 Now, I must say that his opinion was not of the majority. Most people of my community and even the HOA had a good relationship with my ancestors and they respected my family for the work we did. But this new HOA president was not only too high class but also too influential. And thus no matter how they sometimes people tried to defend me and my animals, the president always found some strange reason to have arguments with me and the local police authorities will have his back.

 He had also tried to buy my family’s land from me several times as if I will hand over something. so valuable to him after he had been so dismissive of my family’s legacy. But it seemed like he had enough of me turning him down. The HOA president somehow snuck onto my property and began shooting my farm animals. One day, I woke up to the sound of gunshots.

 It was well past midnight and came running out to see what was happening. I was horrified to find the HOA president standing there with a gun in his hand, surrounded by the dead animals. It was a devastating sight and my heart sank as I saw my beloved animals lying lifeless on the ground. But he was not done yet.

 The Hi president then called the police claiming that I was secretly selling drugs. I was taken away in handcuffs because as I said the local police worked mostly for him, but since they found no evidence against me, the charges were eventually dropped. I then approached the other members of the HOA and they assured me that they will talk to their president and hopefully none of this will happen again.

 I don’t know if they talked or not, but the HOA president continued to arrest me, demanding that I sell my property or move out of the neighborhood immediately. I obviously refused, not only because of the land, but also because it was not me who was in the wrong. I couldn’t just leave after this psycho killed my animals without any repercussions.

 But there was barely anything I could do against him. I was not part of the HOA. I did not have any connections and I was not wealthy by any means. So I tried to avoid him as much as possible. But as time went on, the HOA president’s harassment and intimidation tactics grew more aggressive and violent. He would drive by my property at all hours of the night, shining bright lights and making loud noises to keep me awake.

 He would leave notes on my door and make anonymous phone calls to me, threatening that he will kill me if I don’t do what he says. I kept track of everything he had done, recording phone calls and installing CCTV in all discrete places. Though I was quickly losing all my faith and almost decided to move when one night I woke up to the sound of glass breaking in my bedroom.

 Without even thinking, I reached for a shotgun I keep near my bed. After the incident with my farm animals, I was extra cautious and leaped off the bed. I could barely make out the silhouette of the man in front of me, who seemed to also be holding some type of gun. At that moment, I did not think twice, and I ended up shooting the man somewhere near his legs.

 I did not want to kill the man, both because I’m not as low as him, and also because I knew it would cost me everything if I did. I immediately switched on the lights and saw the HOA president on the ground credling his bleeding foot. He was cursing at me, saying how he was going to have me locked up for life. I honestly believed him in that moment because what I could do if the police who are supposed to protect people like me worked for him, but it seemed like luck was on my side.

 Since the accusations of both parties were so serious, the case ended up being taken by the higher authorities who, good for me, were not bribed by the HOA president douchebag. And I know that because I saw him trying to bribe them, but was shot down immediately. Me and the HOA president were finally on the same playing field, and he tried his best to paint me as the culprit, but I had enough evidence against him.

 The case of him killing my farm animals that was brushed under the rug was opened again. And though I did not have any evidence of him killing my animals, the carcasses were already disposed of, and I had not installed cameras at that time, he was still charged for breaking into my property.

 The case was not easy or short by any standard. The HOA president had hired himself a lawyer. And while I was also appointed one, his one was clearly more experienced and powerful. At one point, I even thought I might lose the case because the HOA president was bribing any witness that he could. But it all came to a head when some of the people of the community who he thought he had bribed exposed his deceit by presenting an audio recording of his henchmen who were trying to buy them.

The case very quickly tilted in my favor and the HOA president in his fit of rage ended up firing his own lawyer and it all went downhill for him from there on. He not only lost the case and was fined for multiple offenses, but he was also fired and blacklisted and his properties were seized.

 He was convicted of his crimes and sentenced to several years in prison. All this did not bring back my animals or help the nightmares I still get. But at least this HOA president’s reign ended and my community could finally take a breath of relief. The HOA elected a new president who was more in touch with the needs and concerns of the community.

 And though he has his own setbacks, he is at least not hellbent on ruining my life. And yeah, Ripe Stars, it is absolutely disgusting to see HOAs always trying to take advantage of farmers and making their life miserable. It seems like farmers are really the people that an HOA often hates the most for whatever reason.

 And the next one is a super petty revenge story that is titled Make Me Lunch. All right, so this happened many years ago. I worked at a company with an assad co-orker that made work miserable. He would cut out for lunch early when he knew we were busy, which usually meant I had to work through lunch. One day, as I was punching out, I noticed his badge on top of the refrigerator in the break room.

Also on the fridge were magnetic calendars and such. Well, our badges were Kronos magnetic strip badges that would swipe in and out. I took his badge and rubbed the magnet all over it to erase the info. The next day, he complained that his badge did not work and he had to go to HR for a new badge. I think he had to go during his lunch break.