Jeff, my stepdad, loved playing the “man of the house.” Every chance he got, he’d remind us how lucky we were to have a roof over our heads because of him. He had this favorite saying: “I keep this house running, you know!” He’d say it over dinner, lounging in his old recliner, like he was the king of the castle. It drove us crazy, but we all kept quiet—Mom, especially, because she hated conflict.
Mom was a kind woman, always choosing peace over fighting. But we could see how Jeff treated her, like she wasn’t his equal. He would belittle her in front of us, and we hated it. My siblings—Chloe, Lily, Anthony, and I—didn’t care that Jeff paid the bills. That didn’t excuse how he acted. We begged Mom to leave him, but she always refused.
After a while, we all moved out. Anthony ended up living across the country, but the rest of us stayed nearby, visiting Mom often to make sure she was okay. We still worried about her. And then, things with Jeff went too far.
In the days before Mom’s birthday, Jeff wouldn’t stop talking about the “special gift” he had gotten for her. He bragged about it like it was the greatest thing ever. “This one’s going to blow her mind!” he said, grinning like he was the smartest person alive. Chloe and I exchanged looks. We knew Jeff—this “gift” was probably going to be something ridiculous.
The day finally came, and we all gathered in the living room, ready to celebrate. Jeff looked more pleased with himself than ever as he handed Mom a large, beautifully wrapped box. “Go ahead, open it!” he urged, his grin almost smug.
Mom’s face lit up as she untied the ribbon and peeled away the paper, but when she saw what was inside, her smile faded. It was a 12-pack of toilet paper. Not just any toilet paper—a pack of jumbo, four-ply rolls. “It’s soft, just like you!” Jeff laughed loudly, slapping his knee. “And look, four-ply—one for each of your kids. Perfect, right?”
Mom let out a nervous laugh, but I could see the tears in her eyes. We were all stunned. This wasn’t just a bad joke—it was cruel. Jeff had turned her birthday into a mockery. That was it. We couldn’t let him get away with this anymore.
Two days later, we set our plan in motion. We knew Jeff loved free food, so we invited him to his favorite Chinese restaurant for a “family dinner.” Chloe, being the youngest and most devious of us, came up with the idea. “We’ll lure him in with his favorite food,” she said, grinning. “He’ll never see it coming.”
Jeff arrived at the restaurant, acting like he was doing us a favor by showing up. “It’s about time someone else treated me,” he grumbled as he took his seat. Chloe kept her cool, smiling sweetly. She started ordering: Szechuan beef, Kung Pao chicken, and mapo tofu—the spiciest, most fiery dishes on the menu.
“You can handle spicy, right, Jeff?” Chloe asked, batting her eyelashes with fake concern.
“Of course,” he said, puffing out his chest like a rooster. “Nothing’s too spicy for a real man.”
The food arrived, each dish loaded with enough chili to burn a hole in your mouth. Jeff dove in, eager to prove his “manliness.” At first, he exaggerated his enjoyment, moaning in pleasure like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted. But soon, his face turned a deep shade of red, and sweat started pouring down his forehead. He gulped down glass after glass of Coke, but nothing helped.
“How’s it going?” Chloe asked innocently, her voice sweet as sugar.
“Just clearing the sinuses,” Jeff managed to say through gritted teeth, his voice strained.
We tried not to laugh, knowing the worst was yet to come.
Meanwhile, back at the house, Mom and Lily were busy with a rented U-Haul and a team of movers. They packed up all of Mom’s belongings—her clothes, her favorite chair, and all the things Jeff had never cared about. Chloe insisted they take everything Mom had bought for Jeff over the years, including his beloved recliner. But the real kicker? Every single roll of toilet paper in the house.
When Jeff and I returned home, his stomach was already grumbling. The moment he stepped inside, he noticed something was off. “Where’s my recliner?” he barked, looking around. “Gone,” Chloe replied, her tone casual. “Mom took what’s hers.”
Jeff’s face turned crimson as he spun around, about to yell, but before he could, his stomach betrayed him. He groaned and clutched his gut, bolting toward the bathroom.
“WHERE’S THE TOILET PAPER?!” he shouted, his voice rising in panic.
We couldn’t hold it in anymore. Laughter erupted from us, and we couldn’t stop. “Mom took that too!” I called out from the hallway, trying not to double over with laughter. “After all, it’s hers!”
From behind the bathroom door, we heard Jeff groan in misery. “You can’t leave me like this!” he yelled, sounding desperate.
That’s when Mom stepped forward. Her voice was steady, firm, and unshakable. “Watch me,” she said calmly. “I’m leaving you, Jeff. I’m taking my things—and my dignity.”
Jeff’s calls and fake apologies flooded Mom’s voicemail in the following days, but she didn’t answer. Instead, Chloe had a brilliant idea. On Jeff’s birthday, we sent him a gift—a jumbo pack of toilet paper, wrapped carefully with a handwritten note attached: “For a real man.”
Mom moved in with Lily while she figured out her next steps. Anthony, hearing about the prank, called us and told us how proud he was of us. Meanwhile, Jeff is still going around complaining to anyone who will listen. But for the first time, Mom is free—and we couldn’t be happier.
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