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prorevenge · 5 years

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Don't tell mom the dog-sitter's dead.

TL;DR at the bottom.

This didn't happen to me, it happened to my sister.

My sister moved up to SC from FL about a year ago, but she still visits us periodically. We're a big and close family. Shortly after Thanksgiving, she flew down with her husband and son for one such visit. She has 3 geriatric dogs, so she got a house/dog sitter.

MS (my sister) went through the basics of how they can only be fed at certain times. They get let out at certain times. They need to be in their crates from X hour to Z hour. Most importantly, they don't get treats. They get vitamins in place of treats, but those vitamins have to be given only twice a day. No people food. Very strict diets. They're all happy and healthy, but only because MS is so strict with their regime.

This lady she got to watch her dogs had stellar reviews on the site she was found through. She's a stay-at-home mom who does this as a side thing for extra cash. I feel like I can end it here, you all can guess where this is going.

MS left for Florida for a week. The first 5 days, everything is going well. DS (dog sitter) texts MS regularly or video calls. She shows MS pictures and gives her regular updates of when she comes and goes to MS's house. MS just bought that house, btw. She's been working her butt off to finally be able to afford it. She puts so much into making that a nice home for her family.

MS has some health problems herself. She's got a ton of prescription medication in her medicine cabinet. She brought enough for the week, but left the rest at home. Stuff for epilepsy, asthma, and allergies. But she's also got a ton of pain killers from when she had my nephew not that long ago. She's paranoid about becoming addicted, so she kept the pills for safety, but never used them. It's a full bottle.

On top of that, she's been a collector of rare beer for about 15 years now. Beer that's not even sold anymore because they were promotional from micro breweries. Beer she can't get anymore because she doesn't live in Florida. Those bottles, she keeps as mostly decoration in her kitchen.

On the 6th day of her vacation, DS stops all communication altogether. MS texts, calls, emails. Nothing. Radio silence. She's got a bad feeling, but she doesn't want to kill the mood because she doesn't get to see her family very often anymore.

Day 7, she gets on a late flight back to SC. The plane gets there around 2 in the morning. They drive an hour to their rural town. They get home. The front door is wide open. The lawn looks like someone in a truck (which DS happened to drive) just tried to go drifting over grass and a tree before vacating the premises super quick.

MS goes to handle my nephew who is groggy and screaming. It's been a rough day. She's thinking the worst. That someone robbed the house while this poor lady was there. MS's husband (BiL) goes inside to survey the damages. It's all clear, MS and Nephew go inside too.

The back door is wide open. The couch looks like it exploded. The rug in the living room and the couch, and pretty much every square foot on the bottom floor is covered in the kind of pee and poop that can only be made from 3 geriatric furry buttholes.

The dogs are, thankfully, still in the backyard. But they're shivering and filthy. There are broken beer bottles everywhere. Some have been stuffed deep in the trash to hide the evidence. Some have been refilled with water and put back with their tops precariously situated on top so they might look like they haven't been touched.

82 bottles, each growler sized (roughly 64 oz) - gone. The medicine cabinet is like one of those Western ghost town's with a tumbleweed bouncing through. MS is already thinking this DS threw herself a party. No way in heck could someone 5'6'', 170 lbs, drink that much beer and take that many pills and not be dead.

MS called the cops. Obviously. The police get there to figure this must be a break in. They take a bunch of pictures, take an account of all the bottles and drugs that were missing. MS cleans what she can, but gets to sleep because thankfully the upstairs hasn't been touched.

One day later, the police find DS. MS has assumed she's dead and abducted, so the police were looking for her and her car. They found the truck run off the side of a highway, with this lady about two miles up, tweaking OUT OF HER MIND walking along the side of the road, screaming at nothing.

They take her in for whatever charges. Idk. Her husband bails her out and picks her up. According to her husband, this has happened before. DS has a drug and alcohol problem.

At first, she's messaging my sister, super apologetic, saying she'll reimburse MS and please don't press charges. MS quotes her the price of the rug, a new couch, and the vet bills because her dogs had somehow gained access to 9 containers of doggie vitamins and one of them was having liver failure. (The dog is fine now, but she's an old yorkie so who knows. Also, MS buys in bulk from a wholesaler, hence 9 containers). The total was somewhere around $800. MS didn't bother with the beers, the meds, the lawn, cleaning the house. She could have. Heck, I would have.

On top of that, MS demanded DS never dog sit again and she had to refund MS for her dog sitting. MS works in advertising. I won't say what kind, but basically if she saw/sees DS advertising herself as a dog sitter ever again, she has the means to drag this lady until all she sees is mud for the rest of her life.

DS insists she'd gonna pay it back, but that MS has to wait until they get their taxes back. Ok. So MS waits. Late February, she texts DS asking where her money is. DS immediately starts saying how she didn't do anything wrong, MS is a bad dog owner and her dogs are miserable, none of the stuff MS says DS did was actually done. MS has all the old texts of DS admitting to all of it sooo....?

This goes on for a while. Eventually, DS starts saying how "as a courtesy" she has a friend who owns a furniture store, she will give MS a credit of $200 for a new couch. And she has an old rug she doesn't want anymore that MS can have.

Erm... what?

She payed MS about $500, but and insists she'll get the coupon to MS soon. March goes by. Nothing.

Around March 20th, MS marches her happy butt to the small claims court and files. Then she snaps pictures of everything. Then she sends DS the message. "As a courtesy, I'm letting you know that I just filed this at the small claims court."

Then the fun starts. This lady goes OFF on MS. She says she's going to sue for slander and undue distress and harassment and blah blah blah blah blah. MS saves all of it, including the fun bits where DS threatens her family and calls her the C-word 20-dozen times.

Today is what? April 6th? Tuesday was the court date. Things move fast in a small town, idk. This lady shows up looking like she just got run through by a garbage disposal. She gives the judge her sob-story, talking about how she did nothing but give MS and her animals the best care, that MS is making all this up.

Yeah. MS has the OG cop with her. She's got pictures of all the damage, the vet bills, the bottles, proof that she was out of town, police reports of both the "break-in" as well as DS's DWI the following day. DS tries to spin it with that one law about how you can't serve alcohol to a known alcoholic. That obviously gets thrown right tf out.

DS then tries to appeal to Judge and MS's sense of humanity. She tells them how her husband just left her and is suing her for full custody (good!) and that if she can't dog-sit how is she supposed to support herself or ever get her kids back (tough cookies!). The judge takes my sister's side, for obvious reason, come tf on.

DS is homeless now, living with her parents. She can't see her kids, who btw don't want to see her. Apparently she was a drunk who ran her hubby's credit all the way down, she was abusive to her kids, and because of her heavy alcohol abuse - one of her kids has FAS. DS has 60 days to pay the remaining $300 or she faces jail time (idk how much time, sorry). Her husband filed for divorce already. Oh, and she lost her license thanks to that DWI.

As a former addict myself and someone who's been through a DWI, I want to sympathize. That's a lot of stuff to go through. MS gave her chance after chance, but at some point, you have to take responsibility for your actions. It really seems like this lady has just been using her husband as a crutch while she tries to get better, only to backslide hard. It's rough, I know. I hope she gets the help she needs.

MS's dogs are doing well. She got a replacement couch on Amazon for like $75 and a nice fluffy rug for even less. DS eventually coughed up that coupon. It didn't even work. It was for something like 20% off with a purchase of $500 or more, so um...no thanks.

TL;DR: World's poopiest dog-sitter trashes my sister's house after going on a bender. Claims she didn't do that, while also promising to pay for the damages. Never pays. Gets taken to court. Loses her home, job, kids, and marriage.

(source) story by (/u/anoukdaae)

#prorevenge #by /u/anoukdaae #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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journalproject · 6 years

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Chapter 1

"It's been 5 days since Sarah Hensen, a 13 year old girl from Athens, Indiana, went missing. The Amber Alert is still out for her. Sarah has brown hair, green eyes, is five foot one. and was last seen walking home from school with two neighbors. Her parents and two younger sisters were found dead in their home the night Sarah went missing. If you have any information on Sarah's disappearance or location, or you have information on the murder of her family, please contact the police at..."

"Emma," My mom called up the stairs. "The bus is going to be here soon!" Her feet tapped up the stairs.

"Just a second!" I responded. I shoved my binder into my bag and looked around the room for anything I forgot.

Mom knocked and opened my door, a smile splitting her face. "Excited for your first day?"

I grasped my necklace. "I'm ready for it." My stomach flipped over.

Mom surveyed my room. "Your room certainly looks ready. There's not a thing out of place! Why can't you do this to the rest of the house?" She playfully nudged my shoulder.

I shrugged. "Okay, okay. I should go."

"Sure you don't want me to drive you?"

"Yeah. It's the same route as middle school, after all. Not a big deal."

We walked downstairs together. "You be careful today. Say please and thank you, be nice to your teachers, listen in class, make friends--"

"I have friends already mom."

"You can always have more."

I shrugged again.

"Fine, go." She gently pushed me at the door. "I love you!"

"I love you too." I closed the door. Despite the warm day outside, I felt very cold. I grasped the straps of my bag and rounded the corner to the bus stop. There was already a mass of seven or so students on the driveway of some poor person's house. I stood a distance away from the rest of them. A couple of small groups hummed with conversation while another couple loners stood quiet like me. I stared at my feet until I could hear the metal groaning of the bus coming to rest in front of us.

I followed the line shuffling onto the bus and swung into a seat. My teeth smacked together over bumps on the short ride to the school. The sunbeams came over the hulking structure right into my eyes. Rodchester High. The throngs of students chattered as they followed each other into the modern looking glass paned structure.

I pushed myself through the conglomerates of students blocking the paths in the hall to get to the locker given to me the week before. As I struggled with the lock, a dark brown haired boy slid in the spot next to me and opened his lock without a problem.

I bit my lip and looked at the floor before asking, "Hey do you think you could help me with mine?" I raised my head to look back at him.

He turned to look at me, then looked around him. "Me?" He asked softly.

I nodded. "I can't get it to open." I motioned at the locker in front of me and handed him the small slip of paper that had my combination on it. He glanced at it for a moment before twirling the lock, hitting the locker in several places. It popped open easy for him. I stared at him, eyebrows raised. "T-thank you."

He dismissed my gratitude with a flick of his wrist and went back into his locker.

I busied myself with unloading my backpack and weighing myself down with various journals and supplies I needed. First and second hour were both terrifying. New people, new teachers, new place. So many new faces that didn't come over from my middle school.

Third hour I sat down next to a semi-familiar face. His hair was swept off to the side to stay out of his face while his head was pointed down to his notebook, eyebrows drawn in concentration. I peeked over his shoulder to get an eyeful of what he was looking at. I could only make out a lot of line drawings and some scribbles in the margins before he caught me looking.

He snapped the book shut and bit his lip, face blushing.

"Hey, I didn't get your name earlier. When you helped me open my lock—thanks again by the way. I'm Emma." I stuck out my hand and smiled at him, hoping he didn't see how hard it was shaking. He glanced at my hand then back to me before shaking it tentatively.

"Andy." He pulled away.

Eager to keep the conversation rolling, I asked, "Are you new here? I don't think I've seen you before."

His eyes darted away from mine. "I-I was homeschooled before this. This school is so big. So much bigger than I expected.." He trailed off.

I smiled softly. "It's even big for me and I've been going to public school my whole life. I can't imagine what this must be like for you. Do you know anyone here? Play sports or participate in clubs with any of the people?"

He shook his head slowly. "No. We don't—didn't—live close. Close to anything really. Middle of nowhere."

"Did you just move here over the summer then?"

"Yeah, something like that."

Before I could inquire farther, the teacher got everyone's attention and started class. Not like there was anything important mentioned. We went over the syllabus like every other class had done so far. When she decided she was finished repeating everything we've heard the other two hours, she let us talk for the rest of the hour.

I turned to Andy who was in his notebook doodling in whatever he didn't want me to see. I cleared my throat this time to get his attention.

"What's your schedule look like for the rest of the day?"

He scrambled around in a black binder for a second before pulling out a sheet of paper. "After this I have Spanish, lunch, gym, then physical science."

I tried to hold back the laughter that bubbled up.

"What?" He eyed me warily.

I handed him my schedule. "Nothing, just, looks like we'll be seeing a lot of each other." His head nodded as the realization dawned on him. "Lockers next to each other and everything except first and second hour with each other. Hope we don't end up hating each other."

He let out a shaky laugh to match my stronger one.

"If you don't know anyone, you can feel free to sit next to me and my friends during lunch. All three of us. We aren't a large intimidating crowd."

He smiled weakly at my joke. "I might just do that. I don't really know where we go to eat anyways."

"I've only been there like once so it'll be an adventure. Did you bring a lunch with you?"

"Yes...? Why would I not?"

I blinked rapidly in confusion. "Um, there's lunch you can buy at the school. Some people prefer that, or they get free lunch or something."

He cocked his head. "So they just.. Make you food. Do you get to request anything you want?"

"Have you not been in public like ever? It works not to dissimilar to fast food. There's options to choose from, most of the time they're edible, if you're lucky it won't be cold or way too hot."

"This sounds horrible. Why would you get the food there if its so bad?" His face contorted in disgust.

I shrugged. "You forget food, some of it's good, more convenient. There's reasons."

"I'll stick to my food from home."

"Whatever floats your boat, man. I'd recommend having some money on your account for those fuck-up days that you might forget a lunch, but the lunch ladies are pretty forgiving. They will negative charge your account and then you can pay them back. At least that’s how it worked in middle school."

His eyes widened when I cussed.

"What?" I raised an eyebrow at him.

"I-I'm not used to very liberal swearing."

I patted his arm, noting how he went rigid when I touched him. "You'll get used to that real quick around here."

We both jumped when the bell rung to signify the end of class.

I eyed him as he scrambled to gather his things. I picked-up my singular binder and followed him into the crowd of people in the hall. I quickly lost sight of his brown hair in the mass of people. Shrugging, I went to my locker and grabbed my journal to draw in and hopefully pass some of the time of the next class.

Andy was assigned to sit in front of me, so I spent most of the class staring at the pattern of his blue plaid shirt. His fingers continually drummed on the desktop while he sketched in his notebook. Every cough in the classroom made him jump nearly out of his seat. Despite what he likely wanted, he was drawing a lot of attention to himself. Several people were glancing over with disgruntled expressions with his constant noise.

As the bell rang this time, I grabbed his arm so he didn't run off and disappear again.

"Kid, you coming to lunch with me?"

He pulled his arm out of my grasp with a sharp tug. "As long as you don't touch me."

His words felt like a kick in the gut, but I forced a smile and laugh. "No problem. Come on, let's grab our bags, and I'll introduce you to everyone."

#Chosen #My writing #kidnapping #story #high school

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blessedarethebinarybreakers · 7 years

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(1/2) Hello lately I have been confused and cowardly, Recently I was in a car with my parents and holding some money. A homeless man knocked on the window and even though I could've easily helped him, I didn't for I was afraid of judgement and i was greedy ( my parents and their friend were talking about how homeless people don't use the money in good ways anyway) I felt TERRIBLE as we drove away, and still do. Now I am again confused and cowardly regarding the incident in Charolettesville.(1/2)

(2/2) I’ve always had the philosophy not to fight hate with hate, but I believe you are right in one of your recent posts regarding the matter. I’m not very brave and I’m pretty weak, as seen with the homeless man, so this leads me to wonder how I can be brave enough to stand up for justice. How can I be brave and do what God wants by helping people. I am so afraid in this world, and I want to help but my fear gets in the way but things that are going on is too much not to help even in small way

Hello there, thanks for reaching out. You are asking some really important questions and you’re definitely not alone in having them or feeling confused or cowardly. I’m going to start by addressing your story about the homeless man and then move on to Charlottesville and how to stand up for justice.

I’ve had multiple encounters with people asking for money on the sidewalk or by walking up to my car, and some of them haunt me. There’s guilt to my memories of them, yes, but I try to focus not on that guilt but on how I can do better next time. The past is the past and we can’t change it, but we can do better in the future.

I moved to Louisville last year from a suburb, and the people walking up to your car at a red light to ask for cash was something new to me. The first time it happened, I had nothing to give, and the rest of the day that person haunted me. I let them haunt me, because the memory inspired me to act – the next time I went driving, I put some ones and fives in my car so that I’d be ready for the next person.

The next person to knock on my window was a woman in early December, her breath coming out as fog in the cold. I gave her some money and wished her the best in the short time before the light turned green, and a few minutes after I’d driven away I thought crap. Her hands must be freezing, and I doubt she’ll use the little money she has to get gloves. I should have given her the gloves I was wearing. She and her frozen hands haunt me still, even now that it’s mid-August. And I am glad for the haunting – there’s the occasional twinge of guilt but I transform it into a resolve to be better.

The most recent person to ask me for some money was on the sidewalk of Charlotte, North Carolina. I was recovering from top surgery that week and had been praying for small opportunities to pay back how I’d been blessed – this could have been the perfect chance but I only had a credit card, no cash, on me. So that man haunts me too; and only just this morning I thought of how I should have, could have helped him, what I should have said: “Hello, I’m sorry I don’t have any cash on me, but my girlfriend and I are walking to a restaurant right now. If you like, you can either tell us what you’d want from their and we’ll bring it back to you here, or you can come with us and eat with us.”

So he haunts me and will continue to haunt me and again, I thank God for these ghosts in my memory, reminding me that I have so much to do to become a better follower of Jesus in the world. You had you past moment and it haunts you – how will you be ready for future moments?

So that addresses the guilt about the moments you’ve missed the chance to help someone. But what about the question of whether you should give homeless people money at all? Because I’m sure it’s true that some of them spend the money in ways you wouldn’t want. I have several responses to that.

1) Give them something instead of money. I have some classmates who carry granola bars in their car so that when someone comes to their window, they can offer food instead of cash. I’ve heard of people who make care packages in ziplock bags with things like bandaids and toothbrushes and quarters that they hand out too.You can also do the whole “I’m about to go in X store / restaurant, is there something I can buy you” or if it’s cold, have gloves or a hat ready to give them. And I wish to God I could get over my anxiety and shyness and give them some conversation, because that’s a gift too and one a lot of people who sit/stand on the sidewalk all day sorely want.

2) Give them money and know it might not go towards what you want but hey, once it’s their money it’s out of your hands. And if it’s cold and they buy whiskey or some cigarettes, they may just be trying to survive the cold buy ingesting something warm. We are called to help how we can, not to judge. I suppose you might also talk to them, be like “I’m hoping you’ll use this cash to buy some food, but I understand it’s out of my control.” They may listen!

3) Because yeah, the argument many people give that “all” or “most” people asking for money spend it on bad things, or that they got themselves into this mess through addiction so why help them …. are pretty loveless arguments. Statistically, a good number of “panhandlers” are supporting children or others.

Now, it’s also important to keep yourself safe. Don’t stop your car and pull down your window on a dark / deserted street to talk to someone, or invite someone to eat with you if you’re alone and don’t think you could defend yourself against them if needed. Be loving, but be smart too.

And it sounds like you still live with your parents – it may be hard sometimes to help folks when they’re around. I was the same way, when my parents and I would go into the city and there’d be people on the sidewalks asking for money – my parents always said something if I stopped to give them even just loose change. So often I wouldn’t, just to avoid those comments. It’s up to you whether you have the money to spare as well as whether you’re able to give it around your parents without harm to you. Giving a smile, acknowledging the person exists, is a good thing too. And you’ve got time to help, and other ways to help – such as volunteering at a food pantry or giving money to such a place, if you can.

Now on to the next topic.

To expand a little on my opposition to the “don’t fight hate with hate” comments many people make, my main frustration with such comments (or “there’s been violence on both sides!” etc.) is that they derail the conversation. We need to be focusing on how to help the side that, like, doesn’t have nazis and white supremacists on it, rather than policing their tactics.

It’s not that I’m a fan of hate or anything, but too often the frustration and fear of the oppressed is raised up to be “just as bad” as what the oppressors or doing – despite the fact that the oppressors have way more power to actually act on hatred, to be violent without consequence. In Charlottesville, for example, some counter-protestors maced nazis and pushed nazis around. Meanwhile, the nazis waved torches in people’s faces, also used mace and pushed people around, and got multiple people hospitalized, beat at least one Black man near to death, and killed a person. And yet there are people on Facebook who don’t talk about that, about the ideologies of the nazis that want everyone who’s not white to disappear from our country….they talk about how “both sides” had some violence and spread the platitude of fighting hate with love. It doesn’t help, it doesn’t do anything but make the oppressed feel unheard.

And on to your desire to fight for justice but worry that fear will stop you. It’s okay to be scared. Seriously. It doesn’t make you a coward. So many of us are terrified right now for various reasons. Don’t be ashamed of your fear, but bring it to God and pray for courage to work through the fear. Brainstorm ways to work past the fear in advance, because in the heat of the moment the fear will probably win out if you don’t have a plan to combat it.

If you’re a white person, it is our job to confront racism when we see or hear it among other white people. This is hard. It’s not fun. Especially when it’s racism from our parents or siblings or friends. If speaking out would put you in real danger -- such as if your parents would hurt you for doing so (emotional abuse counts) -- then it’s okay not to talk to them. Keep safe!! But when you have the emotional energy and it’s safe to do so, find ways to call people out. Comment on someone’s racist status on Facebook that no, their view is not okay. Or make your own posts sharing people of color’s tweets or articles about what’s going on -- even if it means a lot of people are going to comment obnoxious crap on them. Even if you don’t have the words or the answers when people try to argue with you, you saying something will show people of color and other marginalized groups who see your comment that there are people on their side.

Another great thing to do that’s more private is to message individuals. Reach out to any friends of color, Jewish folks, LGBTQ folks you know and let them know that if they need someone to vent to you’re there, or to know that you’re thinking of them and they’re not alone. This takes courage in its own way. Some of them may not respond at all, some may respond with a quick thanks or looking for real conversation. Whatever they answer, it will help at least some of them. We all need reminders that we’re not alone right now.

If you are old enough to vote, vote! Not just in the big elections. And call or write your representatives; if you google for information on how to do so in your state you’ll find lots of resources, including scripts you can read from.

It’s really important to be listening to people of color right now and raising their voices; to listen to Jewish people and raise their voices, to LGBTQ people and disabled people and so on and raise their voices. So listen, share. Educate yourself. You’ll hear ways to help.

And when the fear keeps you from doing something you know you should do, it’s okay. Acknowledge the guilt you feel and bring it to God with prayers to transform it into future action. How can you learn from past mistakes to do better now?

To close this long thing, I’ve got a prayer for you.

God of Justice,This person has glimpsed your call to support the oppressed and to lift them up, but they are enwrapped in so much fear. Be with them. Let them know their fear is human, that it’s okay. Ease their guilt, their anxiety, and transform them, God. Let them learn to focus not on human judgment and arguments but on the need to fight for justice. As they begin to make small steps towards that, may it get easier for them. Send your Spirit of courage to inspire and motivate them, and your Spirit of understanding and right judgment to help them realize that love is often loud. As they seek to do your will, may this prayer sing in their heart: Make me your instrument of justice, God. Make me your instrument of justice. Amen.

If anyone has more to add to this, please do!

#anon #queerly christian asks #homelessness #activism #social justice #nazism mention #white supremacy #nazis #long post

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