Some kids are wonderful. Some kids...are not. When kids are especially bratty, it's so satisfying to see them get just what they have coming.
The people in the following stories know this all too well, as they explained in great detail. After reading each of these tales, it's easy to see that justice has no age limit. All posts have been edited for clarity.
Look Before You Leap
“I used to work in a shop and we had fake display furniture, so the beds we used to display our sheets and pillows were actually just wooden boxes with headboards attached. Some kid was annoying me, shouting and running around, dropping pastries all over the floor, knocking things over, and then he spots one of the fake beds. He takes a running jump to land on it. Man, the look on his face when he realized it was wooden was hilarious. I felt a little bad when he started to cry, but there were signs saying not to touch the displays, so I guess he got what he deserved!”
“Back when I was a waitress, I worked at this BBQ joint that had really narrow, awkwardly arranged tables so I always had to lean a bit over to serve the food. There was this table with a really obnoxious 4-year-old that kept grabbing at everything, my hands, my clothes, the tray I was serving from, untied my apron and my pens and cash flew everywhere…this went on for the whole meal and the parents didn’t do a thing about it. The dad even said it served me right for taking a job in food service. Total prick, and I knew I wasn’t getting a decent tip out of them…
So, towards the end of their meal, they order dessert – peanut butter silk pie which is ooey-gooey sticky pie heaven. I make sure to cover it in an extra mound of whipped cream and balance it precariously on the side of my tray, counter-balanced with a couple of soda refills for the parents (HUGE plastic glasses). Sure enough, when I got to the table the little snot made a grab for the tray and everything conveniently capsized all over him and his parents. They were covered in Diet Coke, whipped cream, and the stickiest peanut butter pie you can imagine!
I looked appropriately chagrined and said, ‘I am SO sorry. Guess that’s what happens when you have kids.’ Even managed to make it back to the kitchen before I cracked up, along with most of the front of house staff.”
“One time we were on holiday in Wales, we being my sister, me and my grandmother. It was a holiday home park and as you entered the gate you saw the little club house where everyone went to have drinks at the weekend, walk a little further and there was a little park with a tire swing.
One day me and my sister were playing on the swing until these three younger male children came (they must have been 11 or 12) and we let them on the swing too. Then they started talking about my sister’s weight, that was not ok, because people’s comments like that led to her to develop an eating disorder.
Just before I was about to go over there and give them a fist, these kids went too high on the tire swing and went flying, crashing on the asphalt like floor and went running off, crying.
Karma is a beautiful thing.”
A Smelly Revenge
“A 10-year-old kid dumped a cup of water on my 18-year-old brother to show off for his friends. My brother responded by sticking the kid head first into an empty trash can. Except it wasn’t empty. It had a foot of rain water mixed with a decade of garbage drippings in the bottom. The can tipped, and the kid comes out soaked, wailing, and reeking of sewage. He ran home and never spoke to, nor messed with my brother again.
For the record, if he knew the can was full of water, he wouldn’t have dumped the kid in there.”
The Secret’s Out
“I worked at a Toys R Us twice doing seasonal work around the big holidays, Christmas and such. Anyway, you have to find ways to amuse yourself and keep from going insane with all the bratty kids and exasperated parents. So I did one pretty lame thing that I have no remorse for.
I was scheduled to work the first shift on Black Friday and they made me wear the Geoffrey the Giraffe costume. First rule is, don’t talk. Dance, pose for photos and keep your mouth shut, don’t ruin it for the kids.
One particularly bratty kid kept punching me in the balls while I was posing with him for the photo. I was in the suit, but it still hurt. He wouldn’t cut it out, so after the photo was taken, I knelt down got my giraffe head at his eye level, and whispered, ‘Your parents told me not to say anything, but you were adopted.’
That little prick started wailing so loud, crying his eyes out. Made everyone waiting in the rain outside at six in the morning on a cold day even more miserable. Best part was, the parents complained but since I was in costume and they had just hired a ton of new people, they had no idea who had done it.”
Once Bitten, Twice Shy
“I worked in a pet store when I was in high school and we had a real issue with this particular family letting their kids act like morons all over the store.
One day, the family walks in and daughter goes right to the puppy room. Kids can’t hold dogs without a parent and no one picks up a pup unless we are the ones to get them out of their little runs for them.
One of the kids reaches in and grabs a puppy by the leg and tries to pull it toward the wall of the run so she can lift it out. I see this on my security monitor by the register and run over to stop her from hurting the puppy. By the time I get in, she has hoisted this dog up by one leg and nearly has him over the wall of the run. The mom and dad are standing right there, doing nothing when I walk in. Before I can get a word out, the daughter sees me and drops the puppy back into the run and turns around like nothing happened. I yell at the girl and her parents obviously get defensive. I offer to play back the tape of their daughter hauling a puppy up by its leg then dropping it four feet onto a tile floor. I tell them they need to go and, of course, they refuse.
As I go back up front to inform the manager, I notice the kid poking her fingers into the feeder rat cage while shaking it. The rat in that cage was a jumbo feeder and was separated from the other feeders because she had just had a litter of pups.
Now, rat moms are good moms. They will protect their babies.
The stupid daughter has her finger in the cage and is banging on the opposite side when karma strikes. Mama rat is NOT having any of this nonsense and runs right up to this girl’s soft, pink finger and bites down HARD on the little brat’s finger. It gets wild because mama rat isn’t letting go and rat bites BLOW.
Parents freak, manager tries to calm the situation, and I get a bandaid for the little brat so she stops bleeding all over the floor.
In the end, this trashy family isn’t banned from the store, but stops coming soon after, because idiot mom insists that the giant blue and gold macaw is friendly even though he isn’t and gets her ear ripped up a good one. In the end, Mama rat and babies got promoted to pet rats instead of feeders for their brave part in helping exact vengeance on the demon spawn. The blue and gold macaw was also rewarded for his part with many, many french fries.”
Do The Crime, Do The Time
“I was working at a Pizza Hut at the time. Some kid around age 10 or so went into the men’s restroom and pooped in the urinal than proceeded to smear it all over the place.
We knew it was the kid because it wasn’t very busy that day and a coworker spotted the mess right after the kid left the bathroom.
We weren’t sure what to do, but the manager decided to tell the parents. The father was ANGRY. He made the boy clean it up. He stood over him, yelling at him and made him clean it ALL.
The boy was crying but, you know, forget that kid. He was old enough to know you don’t do that kid of thing. He wasn’t mentally impaired. He was just an idiot.
We were all glad the dad stepped up. Otherwise we would have had to clean it.”
A Bully Gets His
“Back in one of my first jobs, working retail, I was doing my thing when a quiet boy a couple of years below me in school was trying to pay for some candy. He looked scared from the beginning, like he was going was going to cry. Then this bunch of bullies, about his age, come up behind him started giving him grief. They started off saying offensive stuff to him for about 10 seconds, and I told them to knock it off or get out of the store. They laughed, and then started getting physical, pushing him around and threatening him. The other customers in the line just ignored it and let it happen.
Oh no, not on my watch. I cannot abide bullying, and I’m not going to let some dingleberries attack some poor kid right in front of me.
I tapped two keys to lock my register, ran around from my seat, grabbed the leader of their group by the back of his jacket and physically dragged him out of the store on his heels. I pinned him up against the wall outside with my arm and through gritted teeth told him to get out of my store, and to take his idiot friends with him.
He runs away, shouting about how he was ‘going to get me’ behind angry tears, with pricks 2 and 3 in quick pursuit. I took a breath as I watched them disappear, walked back in calmly. The quiet kid was still at my register; I asked him if he was okay, and that he was welcome to hang around a little longer to make sure they were gone. He actually smiled and thanked me, paid for his stuff and moved on. I later went to my manager to let them know that I had to physically eject someone from the store for starting a fight with another customer, because it is better if I get my story in before some said prick comes in with their parent and gives their own version of the story. She says that somebody had already commented to her about it, praising me for my action, no less and that nothing else should come of it.
I felt pretty good, defending this poor kid against a bunch of bullies, but it’s not even the end at this point.
A month or so later…
I’ve finished work and I’m going about my own business in town in my civvies. It’s the end of the day, and the sleepy little side street I’m walking down is virtually empty – I spot the same kid again ahead on his bike, with his same idiot friends. Whatever man, I’m not the type to start things, and it’s not a big town, so it’s not surprising I’d see him again. I keep on walking.
But then one of his friends points at me, stares at me, and gives me this toothy grin.
He starts cycling at me, pedaling as fast as he can, obviously trying to mess with me. I stare him down and keep walking, and wait for him to get closer, as he does so, he keeps pedaling, speeding up, he’s not just trying to mess with me, he’s actually going to ram me. I’ve never understood this mentality – bikes, whilst great for the environment and cheating in a footrace, are not exactly the most rugged or stable of vehicles, and even if he did ram me, he would almost certainly mess himself up in the process.
More importantly, they offer you virtually zero protection.
Just as he’s meters away, I sidestep, brace, and hold my arm out at his chest level. In one surprisingly fluid movement, I literally rip him off his bike, spin him around, and get him in a headlock, faced down, on the floor. His bike goes wobbling down the street at speed, riderless, and smashes into a post.
As he’s struggling and trying to get away, tears in his eyes. I pin him in the headlock, and talk quietly into his ear.
‘If you think I’d forgotten you, you’re sadly wrong. If you think that I’m going to go easier on you just because I’m not at work, then you’re even more wrong. I’m not at work, there’s nobody around, your idiot friends have peed themselves and run away, I could beat you senseless, right here, and nobody would know. If you ever, ever try to attack me, or anyone else in my presence again, then I assure you you’re not going to get off as easy as you are today. Now: Bugger. Off.’
I lift him up in the headlock slightly, and then drop him to the floor. Not enough to really hurt him, but enough to know that this could have been a lot worse if he’d messed with someone bigger and nastier than me. He picked himself up hurriedly and ran away, shouting that he was going to ‘get his brother on me.’ I guess some people don’t learn their lessons, but unsurprisingly, I didn’t see him again.”
“I once saw a kid terrorizing a dog at a park. The dog was tied to a pole and the kid was chasing the dog around on his bike. The owner came back and started yelling at the kid. As the kid rode off he popped a wheelie and the front wheel of his bike popped off mid air and he did a face plant in the parking lot.
I felt pretty bad for laughing, but couldn’t help it. It was so unexpected.”
See Ya Next Fall!
“I was in a restaurant and this kid was running around at high speed, making a loop. Around and around he went, yelling and knocking items off of people’s tables.
He zipped by my table one too many times and I tripped him. He did a long sliding face-plant. Jumped back up and started crying and yelling at me.
His parents grabbed him up and hauled him out of there and telling him to leave people alone.”
Shot In The Dark
“When I was working at an air-soft field, we had parties come in all the time.
One party, the birthday kid was being a total prick to his friends: shooting really close, not calling hits, and yelling that he hit people when he never did. My coworker and I had had enough of this kid being a prick, so we decided to let the boss’ son play (he’s really competitive, doesn’t really know how to take it easy) but on the opposite team.
We told him to be really tough on the birthday kid for a game or two to teach him a little lesson. However, the boss’ son just went nuts after the birthday kid shot him in the back of the head really close (typically, you tell someone to ‘surrender’ and they just go back to respawn).
Needless to say, the boss’ son got really ticked and just lit the kid up point-blank, full-auto. The birthday kid started bawling and the party left early. My boss just asked if he was being rude and when we said yes, he just shrugged. None of us gave a darn.”
“I went to see a monkey show in Thailand where the trained monkeys perform various circus tricks for tourists. Two 12-year-old kids were poking one of the monkeys with a stick through the cage and their parents weren’t taking any notice. During the show, the monkeys were performing a trick where they throw a ball to the audience and then catch it. The tormented monkey ran straight up to one of the kids and threw the ball point blank, straight into his face. The monkey had a pretty good arm on him, threw it hard enough to make the kids eyes water and leave a red mark.”
Well, Someone’s Gotta Say It!
“Our neighbors have five kids. They’re all brats, but the middle child (a boy) is the worst. He was in front of his house one day while I was outside doing some landscaping in my front yard. A shiny, new, red pickup truck drove by, then slammed on the brakes and started backing up. It stopped in front of the brat’s house.
I heard the lady in the passenger seat yell, ‘Did you just throw a rock at our car?’ Of course, the boy denied it, and started making up some ridiculous excuse – like he always does when people catch him making mischief. The woman cut him off and told him to go get his mom.
Apparently, the woman in the truck was from the neighborhood and was also fed up with their kids and their nonsense. The mom finally came out (holding the youngest brat), and the woman in the truck proceeded to give her the kind of verbal beatdown that the mom should have been giving her own kid all along. Watching that mom stand there and listen to some stranger rightfully criticize her parenting for 10 minutes straight was gratifying. The only thing better was watching the brat squirm the whole time.”
What Did You Learn?
“I was working the shoe department at Sears back when I was 18. One day, this little snotty kid is in there with his inattentive mother. He’s running around, knocking stuff over, making a mess. I ask her to keep him in check and she refuses.
The kid starts running circles around the register. Well, the register was on a little island in the middle of the department and had a slide-out shelf about waist high to an average person. I’m ringing up an actual customer, so I slide out the shelf and set this person’s shoebox on the shelf. Little snot comes flying around the corner and WHAM! Forehead connects with the shelf in a loud CRACK.
He immediately falls backward, blammo, right on the floor. And then starts wailing. The mother gives me a dirty look and gathers up her brat, making her way out of the store.
The customer and I both watch her go and then just sort of shrug it off.”
She Won’t Be Doing THAT Again
“I played soccer my freshman year of high school, and my team was one of the better ones in our division. There was a team from another school who we had heard would always try and cheat their way to a win (faking injuries, trying to injure you when the refs weren’t looking, etc.), and finally we got our chance to play them.
Their team was playing man to man defense, so the same girl was guarding me basically the entire game. Every time she would get close to me, she would dig her fingernails into my skin, so by the time we got to a break, my arms were completely shredded. I told my coach what was going on, and he went and mentioned it to the referees. They said they would watch out for it, but when play resumed, she kept right on doing it, and the refs continued to not notice it.
Finally, I was pretty fed up. At one point, she came and stood behind me, but also slightly to my right. As soon as she reached out to touch me, I popped her in the stomach with my elbow as hard as I could. She of course fell to the ground and pitched a big fit, and they ended up stopping the game. When the refs came over, she was being very dramatic, rolling around and writhing in pain, and she told them this whole sob story of what had happened. I’m sure it did hurt a little, because I meant it to, but it certainly didn’t hurt as much as she was making it seem. The refs went ahead and red carded me, though (despite our previous complaints about this girl), so I went and sat up in the stands with some of the parents.
By the time play resumed, she was magically feeling good enough to play again, except this time she was guarding my friend K, who is much more awesome and less patient than I am. This girl starts doing the same thing to K that she had been doing to me, but K only put up with this for about 45 seconds before she turned around and popped her one, right in the face. The girl ended up having to sit out the rest of the game because her nose was bleeding pretty badly, and K was red-carded as well and got to come hang out in the stands with me.
It was, of course, awesome watching K punch the girl in the face, but the aftermath was awesome as well:
1. We won the game (actually, we beat that team every subsequent year of high school as well).
2. It was found out, after the game, that one of the refs was actually related to one of the girls on the other team, so they actually downgraded our red cards to yellow cards.
3. The next year, when we played that same team, K managed to catch that girls’ eye before the game started, and give her a really menacing look. We saw the girl go talk to her coach right after that, and she ended up sitting out that entire game. We never saw her after that. Oh, and we won State that year as well.”
A Camel’s Got To Do, What A Camel’s Got To Do
“I was at a zoo. I have noticed when walking into a store or other public space that people walk about the same speed and, though they aren’t together, will be around each other for the duration.
That’s what happened at the zoo. We went in about the same time and were spending the day together, even if I didn’t want to. Their kid was wild with energy. He would throw things, like popcorn, at everything, me included and even though I asked his parents several times to get it under control, nothing much really changed.
I took a left when they went right and thought that was the end of it, but a bit later, we were next to each other again.
I was hoping the kid had settled down, but he was just as loud and obnoxious as ever.
We were in front of the camels and I said to him, ‘Hey kid, come here and look at this.’
For those that don’t know, camels spit. And this kid started throwing popcorn at the camel and yelling at it. Suddenly, the camel had enough and let out a huge loogie. It covered the side of the kid’s face and was running down onto his shirt and he started crying and yelling.
He ran over to his parents and told them I made the camel spit on him. His dad started yelling at him and said, ‘Are you bothering that man again?’
He then got a swat on the seat of the pants and they left the zoo.”
That’s Harsh, Man
“I used to volunteer as a coach for youth lacrosse in Georgia through my college. I once had a kid whose name, I kid you not, was Harsh.
Anyways, I had the elementary school age kids for practice one night, with Harsh. He went through a drill with a weaker kid who ended up costing his team the point. They get to the end of the line for the drill and Harsh, a 5th grader, hits this 2nd grader in the helmet with his stick.
I stop the practice, line all the kids up, and make them do 30 yard down-and-back sprints. I make Harsh call out every sprint, and every kid has to call out, ‘Thank you Harsh,’ instead of whatever number sprint they were on. After ten of them, I restarted the practice.
The other kids beat him to a pulp. Beat. The. Snot. Out. Of. Him.
It was awesome.”