While Annie is having a lazy Saturday, sitting around and scrolling through social media, a video message from her mom pops up. As she hits play, Annie discovers that one of her father’s pranks has left her mother scared and alone. Annie rushes over to her parents’ house, ready to teach her father a lesson.
I didn’t think my dad would ever take one of his dumb jokes this far, but here we are, having lived through it. My phone lit up earlier today with a video message from my mom that made my heart stop for a second.
I wasn’t prepared for what I saw, and now, hours later, I’m still trying to process the whole thing.
Let me back up a second and give you some context on how everything went down. My dad is what you’d call “old school.” He has this grumpy exterior, like he came straight out of the 1970s and never quite adapted to life in the present.
He’s not a bad guy, but he can be ridiculously difficult to get along with. He doesn’t do heart-to-hearts or deep conversations. Instead, he sheds part of his grumpiness off when he’s at home and leans into his pranking nature. They are harmless, annoying little pranks that he thinks are hilarious but leave my mom rolling her eyes and sighing.
Most of the time, Dad does really stupid stuff like hiding Mom’s glasses when she’s looking for them or misplacing her keys right when she’s about to leave. These pranks have always been annoying, but nothing too wild.
Except today.
Today, Dad decided to really outdo himself.
I was in my little apartment about 20 minutes from my parents’ house. I was minding my own business, sipping on a soft drink and scrolling through TikTok, when my phone pinged with a message from my mother.
A video message.
The thumbnail was black, and all I could hear was her voice, which was muffled and kind of shaky. Like she was afraid of something.
That’s when I got a bit panicked. Mom wasn’t the type to send video messages. To be honest, I didn’t think she knew how to do it. Immediately, I knew that something was off.
I tapped play, and there she was. The camera was all shaky, and she was crouched in a corner, whispering like she was about to be caught by someone or something.
“Annie,” she breathed into the phone. “Sweetheart, your dad… he locked me in the basement. Can you come help me? He thinks this is funny. All because he wanted to eat in peace. I think there are rats or mice in the basement, Annie. Come quickly.”
What. The. Hell.
I was so shocked, I nearly dropped my phone onto the floor. Locked in the basement? He locked her in the basement? And it was supposed to be funny?
My dad, in all his “wisdom,” had apparently decided that the best way to enjoy his dinner in peace was to lock my mother in the basement. Just so that she wouldn’t remind him to eat his veggies during a precious football game? He truly didn’t care about his cholesterol.
I called her back immediately, but it went straight to voicemail.
“Pick up, pick up, pick up!” I muttered.
My brain went straight into overdrive. My mom never asked for help unless things were way beyond something she could do for herself. She was a woman who could handle herself. I mean, she’s lived with my father for years, so that had to count for something. But she was also a woman who was deeply afraid of the dark and confined places.
So now, she was locked in the basement and not answering her phone. Dad had really crossed a line with this one.
I texted her, but there was no response.
“Maybe her phone died, Annie,” I told myself. “She must be so afraid… and livid.”
I knew I had to get to her as soon as possible.
I grabbed my keys and bolted out of my apartment. I live about twenty minutes away from my parents, but I swear, I made it in twelve.
The entire drive, I was fuming, and I already knew how this was going to end. My dad thought he was clever, but if there’s one thing I inherited from him, other than his eye color, it’s the ability to come up with a solid revenge plan.
“I can’t believe the nerve of this man,” I said to myself as I turned into our street.
When I got to the house, I didn’t even bother knocking. I had my spare key, so I let myself in. As soon as I stepped inside, I could hear the muffled sound of the TV blaring from the living room.
Classic Dad.
He was probably sitting there, stuffing his face with steak. It was a home routine—Saturdays meant steak for dinner. Little did he know, I was about to teach him a lesson, too.
I headed straight for the basement. Sure enough, the door was locked, but the key hung from the hook next to the door.
I knocked softly, and Mom’s relieved voice came through the wood.
“Honey, is that you?” she whispered.
“Yeah, it’s me, Mom,” I said. “Hang tight, we’re getting you out of there.”
I unlocked the door, and when my mother stepped out, she didn’t even look mad. She just looked tired. But there was a glint in her eye, like she wanted to get revenge on my father, too.
“Dad’s still in the living room,” I said. “He didn’t even hear me come in.”
“Oh? He’s still enjoying his victory, then?”
“Yeah, well, that’s going to be short-lived, Mom,” I said.
There’s one thing about my father: he loves his “throne.” It’s a ridiculous electric recliner that he spent way too much money on a few years ago. He loves it more than any person in the world, which is sad and pathetic, but true.
The chair has heated seats, a massage feature, and even USB ports. He treats it like it’s something sacred in our home.
Naturally, I aimed my revenge at it.
I told my mom the plan, and she laughed nervously. We crept toward the living room where Dad was zoned out, still glued to his game, digging into his dinner.
I quietly unplugged his precious chair from the wall. And the best part? This man didn’t even notice a thing. Then, with my mom watching, I pulled a little tube of super glue that I had taken from the kitchen.
I smeared it over the chair’s buttons, still absolutely perplexed that my father didn’t register that I was in the room, right next to him.
After that, Mom and I went back to the kitchen. We sat on the bar stools in silence as Mom opened a tub of cookies for us to nibble on.
Ten minutes later, the game went to half-time. We could hear Dad shift in his chair and he tried to press the recline button. Nothing happened. He frowned and pressed it again, harder this time.
Still nothing.
“What the heck?” he grumbled, fiddling with the controls. Then, I saw it. The moment when the realization hit him.
He started pulling at the armrests, trying to get up, but his hands were stuck. His face turned from confusion to full-on panic.
“What’s wrong, Frank?” Mom asked, strolling into the living room.
“The darn chair is broken!” he complained.
“Oh, really? Maybe because you overuse it. But wasn’t it fine before you locked me in the basement?” Mom asked.
My father’s eyes widened.
“You didn’t… Wait! How did you get out?” he asked.
“Annie,” Mom said simply.
I stepped out from my spot in the kitchen, where I had been recording their conversation.
“Smile for the camera, Dad,” I said. “This is going in the family group chat!”
“You wouldn’t dare, Annie!” he barked at me, tugging helplessly at his stuck hands.
“Oh, but I would,” I said.
I pressed send, and the replies started rolling in soon. If there was one thing my father hated, it was being seen beyond his usual façade. He didn’t want people to see the real him. And this was him, an ugly person.
“I’m taking Mom home with me for the rest of the weekend,” I said. “You can figure out how to get yourself off your throne.”
Mom went upstairs to pack herself an overnight bag. I didn’t want to leave her with Dad. But I doubt he’ll be locking anyone in the basement anytime soon.
What would you have done?
We Cut the Cake at Our Gender Reveal Party, and It Turned Out Black, My MIL, Dressed in Black, Stood Aside and Cried
As Misha and Jerry sliced into the cake at their gender reveal party, expecting to see a telltale blue or pink sponge, they were shocked to find the cake was black inside. As they recovered from the surprise, they finally understood why Jerry’s mother, Nancy, had made such an odd choice—though the reason was even more absurd than they could have imagined.
This was supposed to be one of the happiest moments of our lives. After two years of trying, endless doctor visits, and more tears than I could count, we were finally pregnant. It felt like everything was falling into place, like the universe had finally decided to give us our happily ever after.
“This is it, Misha,” Jerry said to me the night before the party. “We’re finally going to complete our family.”
“I know,” I said, smiling. “I can’t wait for our little one to come and turn our world upside down.”
We wanted to make the gender reveal special, so we decided on a big party. We invited family from both sides, hired a bakery for the cake, and handed the ultrasound results to Jerry’s mom, Nancy. She was thrilled to be in charge.
“I’ve got everything under control, Misha,” Nancy promised. “I’ll take care of the cake and get a special gift for my grandbaby. I just know it’s going to be a girl—I’m ready to spoil her rotten!”
Nancy had been eager to be involved ever since we announced the pregnancy, so it felt good to let her handle the cake. I was grateful she felt included.
As my mom and I set up for the party, the house was transformed into a Pinterest-perfect setting—pink and blue balloons tied to every chair, platters of food arranged on the table, and a banner that read, “He or She? Let’s See!” It was everything I had ever dreamed of.
The final touch was the beautiful white cake at the center of the room, ready for the big reveal. Jerry’s whole family was there—his cousins, brother, aunt—filling the house with excitement and chatter.
When Nancy arrived, I noticed she was dressed all in black. It struck me as strange, but I didn’t think much of it. Maybe she thought black was slimming or elegant. Who knew?
As everyone gathered around the cake, the energy in the room buzzed with anticipation. Phones were out, cameras ready to capture the big moment.
Jerry put his arm around me. “Ready?” he whispered.
“Let’s do this,” I grinned.
The countdown began.
“Three… two… one!”
We cut into the cake, expecting to see pink or blue inside. But when we pulled out the first slice, the room went silent. The cake was pitch black.
Not a hint of pink. Not a touch of blue. Just black.
My heart sank. Was this some kind of joke? No one was laughing. Everyone stood frozen, unsure whether to keep recording or put their phones down.
I glanced at Jerry, who looked just as confused as I felt. Then my eyes landed on Nancy, standing off to the side. She was dressed head to toe in black—black dress, black scarf, black shoes—and now she looked like she was… crying?
“Nancy?” I called out, frowning.
She wiped her eyes with a tissue, her makeup smudging. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, my voice rising. “Why would you order a black cake?”
Jerry stepped in, his confusion turning to frustration. “Mom, what’s going on?”
Nancy dabbed at her eyes, trembling. “It’s not about the cake. It’s what I was told… I couldn’t risk it.”
“What are you talking about?” Jerry asked, his patience wearing thin.
Nancy took a deep breath. “Ten years ago, I visited a fortune teller with my sister. She told me something terrifying—that if my first grandchild was a boy, it would destroy your family, Jerry. And I’d be struck with a terrible illness.”
The room gasped. Jerry’s jaw dropped. “You’ve believed that nonsense for ten years?”
Nancy nodded, wringing her hands. “I know it sounds crazy, but I couldn’t ignore it. She was famous in our town—everyone said her predictions were always right.”
I stared at her, stunned. “So you sabotaged our gender reveal because of a fortune teller?”
Nancy hung her head. “I thought if it was a boy, maybe the black cake would… stop the curse. I even put bay leaves in it, hoping it would change something.”
I pressed my fingers to my temple, trying to process the absurdity. I knew Nancy could be a bit eccentric, but this? This was beyond anything I’d imagined.
Jerry let out a sharp breath. “Mom, you let a con artist control your decisions for ten years?”
Nancy’s lip quivered as she crumbled under the weight of her fear. “I was terrified of losing you. I couldn’t bear the thought that something bad would happen to your family because of me.”
Before anyone could respond, Jerry’s cousin Megan, who had been scrolling through her phone, chimed in.
“Wait, was it J. Morris? That fortune teller?”
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