"After my mom passed away, her elderly friend came to visit. She asked me for some 'liquid courage.' She pounded back four glasses of it. Then she whipped out a handful of sleeping pills and downed those. I freaked out. She said she did it 'all the time.' She then proceeded to fall off the chair. She tried going upstairs and started to fall. I caught her and half carried her to bed. I heard her fall hard on the floor. She was laughing and delirious (she was 74). I wanted to call an ambulance, but she flat out refused. I put her back to bed. Rinse and repeat three times. The next morning, I asked if she had other friends she could stay with and I drove her to them."
"My brother-in-law came to stay at my flat, and brought his friend, who didn't like dogs and was allergic to them. No problem, although I told him that was the dog's home, and he'd have to live with it, but I'd try and keep the dog away from him as much as I could. I was in the kitchen and I heard him saying, 'Screw off, no, go away,' so I guessed the dog was doing that thing that dogs do when faced with someone who doesn't like dogs - not leave them alone. I started to go into the front room to grab the dog when I heard a heavy 'THUNK' sound. My dog yelped and scooted past me. The sucker had kicked my dog! I grabbed him by the front of his shirt, dragged him to the front door, threw him out, and told him that he wasn't welcome in my home."
"Years ago, my old housemate's mum came to visit. I'd just finished a 14-hour shift in the pub I was working in at the time. I came home to find her in the kitchen off her face, in her tights, surrounded by broken glass on the floor and eating my cereal from the bag. She'd smashed all the glasses. She was a councilor for the Tory party, too. My housemate had passed out, so I had to deal with this wreck of a woman who I'd never met before."
"When my boys were young, they had a sleepover. There were about four to five boys from the neighborhood. One of the boys was...weird. Know how you sometimes get that hair-on-the-neck feeling about some people? So I didn't like this kid. I tried not to have him in my house, but he had to be included in this sleepover.
The original idea was a tent in the backyard, but the weather wasn't good, so the tent ended up in the middle of the den.
It's a two-story house. Upstairs were bedrooms and a bathroom. Downstairs was the tent in the den and a guest bathroom.
After all the kids went to sleep, I went upstairs to my bedroom. There was NO reason for any kid to be upstairs during the night.
When I woke up in the morning, there was water coming from under the upstairs bathroom door. And the door was locked. I pounded on the door. No answer.
I ran downstairs to check on the boys. All still in the tent, but there was water raining down through the ceiling and onto the tent.
I grabbed a screwdriver, ran back upstairs, and pried open the bathroom door.
The water was running in the bathtub. And there was our new kitten floating in it, dead.
I turned off the water, laid down some towels to absorb the water, and shut and lock the bathroom door.
I ran back downstairs to check the kids again, but they were all still asleep. I woke them up, told them there'd been an accident with the plumbing. I got them out of the water-soaked den, into their clothes, and sent them home.
Except for this weird kid. He refused to leave.
I settled my boys and the weird kid, who would not leave, down in front of the TV with some breakfast.
I went back upstairs to sort out the bathroom and the dead kitten. I had no idea what happened, but I didn't like what was running through my mind.
I locked myself in the bathroom so the boys couldn't wander in. I was mopping water and wondering what I was going to do with a dead kitten and how I would explain this to my kids when the weird kid started knocking on the bathroom door. Conversation through the door:
Him: 'I need to use the bathroom.'
Me: 'Use the one downstairs.'
Him: 'I want to use this one.'
Me: 'Go downstairs.'
Him: 'What's wrong in there?'
Him: 'Do you need some help?'
Him: 'Is something wrong? I can help you.'
Me: 'No. Use the bathroom downstairs.'
Him: 'Oh. Have you seen the kitten? I can't find him.'
Me: 'I'm sure the kitten is around someplace. Go downstairs.'
Him: 'Can I come in the bathroom and look for the kitten?'
I freaked out. Creepy, sadistic little sucker. I don't care if he was only 8 years old.
Me: 'You need to go home.'
Him: 'My parents can't come get me yet. It's too early.'
Me: 'Then WALK! It's only half a block. I'll call your mom and tell her you're coming.'
I unlocked the bathroom door to get that weird, crazy kid downstairs and to call his parents.
I had to body-check that kid to keep him out of the bathroom. He tried to run around me.
I can't prove anything, but I think that kid drowned the kitten in the bathtub in the middle of the night. Then he left the water running because he wanted one of the other kids to wake up with the water coming down through the ceiling and find the dead kitten. When that didn't work, he tried to 'discover' the dead kitten himself.
I cleaned everything up. Told my kids that the kitten had gotten trapped in the bathroom and accidentally hurt himself. Thank goodness they were young enough to buy it. We had a kitten funeral later that day.
I never let that kid in my house again. I didn't tell his parents anything about what happened because, frankly, his parents were just as weird. I'm still waiting for the day I hear his name on the news and find out he's a serial killer."
"I love this friend of mine to death and I miss hanging out with him, but I think his girlfriend is the worst, and she's no longer welcome in my house. I'm the kind of person that feels someone's home is sacred; you show them respect when you're in their home and expect respect from those who come into your home.
They came over for game night. Mind you, this is my second time meeting this hussy, and I already did not care for her, but he was happy to be seeing someone, and I wanted to give her another chance. I should preface; there are two bathrooms in my house. One is the 'public' bathroom, middle of the hall, for everyone. My roommates are in charge of keeping this bathroom clean and generally do a good job. The second one is my private bathroom in my bedroom, which is the master bedroom. No one uses that bathroom but me. Now I will admit, my bathroom is gross, but again, it's my private bathroom nobody should be seeing. Also, I close my bedroom door when I have guests over.
So this hussy got up and said she had to use the bathroom. She was gone an awfully long time, then when she came back, she went, 'Your bathroom is disgusting, just so you know.'
I thought my roommates had cleaned the main bathroom, but I could be wrong? So I apologized and said, 'Well, my roommates are usually good about keeping it clean, but you know we all work a lot and don't always have time to-'
'No, no, the hallway bathroom is fine. Your bathroom. I wanted to see what your room was like, so I walked in and looked around. Your bathroom is gross. There is no excuse for that.'
Respect for my friend, who I've known for 18 years, is the only reason I didn't kick this bimbo out of my house. MY BEDROOM DOOR WAS CLOSED. Who does that? As a guest in someone's house, going through and giving themselves a private tour without asking the host, then criticizing them for their own private areas that they'd closed off? I'm not easily offended, but this nonsense just ticked me off hard.
I miss my buddy a lot, but they've been together for a year now and there's no getting rid of her. I refuse to hang out with him with her around."
"Years ago, I lived in a mobile home with my significant other. To help with bills and rent, we took in a guy as a roommate short term. It was supposed to be a week.
The guy was my neighbor's father. I should've figured out right there when he didn't let his dad stay with him.
Day 1: He set up a computer in his room. That's cool, play World of Warcraft or whatever you do. Nope, he was watching cam girls. At a high volume.
Day 2: I came home to my door locked. My key wasn't working. This dude had the audacity to change my locks while I was at work! He said he didn't feel safe.
Day 3: I had friends over for a BBQ. We all worked at the same fast food restaurant. The store manager closed on Tuesdays, so we were off as a group. Every Tuesday, we'd eat, drink, and hang out. It's a family affair.
He brought some chick home, without giving us a heads up. And they got busy. In his room. With the bedroom door open.
I was walking my buddy's 3-year-old son to the bathroom as he didn't want to go alone.
That is when we saw him.
Seriously, now I don't even invite people to my house. Meet me somewhere. Nobody is coming over."
"I was 15, having a bad period, and attempting to eat soup at the dinner table while holding a heating pad. This lady friend of my uncle, who no one, including my mother, had met either before, walked in. Even before saying hi to the hostess, she asked me if I was pregnant.
Cue shocked silence, her laughingly saying, 'Well, I had to ask.'
I replied, 'No, no you didn't.' My mother stood up for me when the woman called me rude. I was rude?"
"He brought two perturbed trash pandas (raccoons) inside my house. They went nuts and made a nest in my attic. This guy was always pulling that stuff when he came to visit. This wasn't the worst example. He also once tried staging a Youtube animal fight between a badger and a pack of ferrets in my bedroom."
"I was hosting a party. A roommate invited a guy she wanted to mount. Guy brought his brother, his brother brought his ex-cellmate. The ex-cellmate used my other roommate's toothbrush to make white lines in our bathroom. After the brother was told to get the guy out of there, the cellmate punched a girl in the face. I dragged him to the end of the driveway just in time for cops to show up. I yelled, 'Get off my property!' I got a call from the cops the next day. The cellmate was charged with violating parole, possession with intent to sell, resisting arrest, and apparently, he had a weapon on him."
"I have an 11-year-old cousin, we'll call her Jane, who came to my house (along with my aunt and uncle) for the Fourth of July last year to celebrate with us. Around 11 p.m., my aunt and uncle got tired and decided to head to bed. Jane, my mom, some friends, and I stayed up a while longer and watched Jane play with what was left of the sparklers.
Jane was a little brat the whole day. She was constantly screaming at her mom and my little sister, and tearing up our house. She kept demanding we give in to her every want, whether it was the music being played or the food being cooked. She was being awful and no matter what my aunt or uncle or even my own parents did, she wouldn't calm down.
A little later, about midnight, Jane went into the kitchen, which leads directly to the backyard where we were shooting fireworks. There's a bay window that looks out on the yard, but if the kitchen lights are on it while it's dark out, the window glares so bad you can't see out, you can only see in. Well, Jane grabbed some orange juice out of the fridge. No big deal, but then my little sister walked into the kitchen and Jane froze until she left, which prompted my mom to watch her a little more closely. After my little sister left, we watched Jane grab a big bottle and fills half the cup with it and the other half with orange juice.
My mom burst into the kitchen and, after Jane denied she just poured herself a nightcap, my mother cop-locked the girl's arms behind her and pushed her to the guest room. She woke up Jane's parents to let them know what happened. My uncle patted her down to find she also stole three smokes and a lighter from my dad. They left the next morning."
"We had a house guest staying for a week while he interviewed for jobs in our area. He was told that there was just one major house rule:
'Do NOT let our cat outside. He's an indoor cat only, and has never been outdoors on his own.'
Well, we came home from work one day that week and found that he had left the sliding glass door and screen to the deck open while he went for a walk.
The cat was gone, nowhere to be seen. We searched the neighborhood and enlisted our friends to help. Our beloved pet was missing and the house guest couldn't understand why it was 'such a big deal.'
At that point, I told him that our cat meant more to us by far than his so-called friendship and out he went, not to return.
Miraculously, long after we had given up hope, one day Mr. Kitty returned. He was sitting on the deck, meowing through the screen door!"
"Almost every time my mom came to my house, she did something messed up. She would break things, or decide something needed fixing and call up whatever repair or service person was, then just present me with the bill when I came home from work. She flooded my kitchen once, which leaked out all over my living room and warped my hardwood floors. I came home once and she had repainted my kitchen. But the worst was when she left candles burning and we woke up to my living room in flames. Almost killed us both.
I live in Asia now in a small studio apartment. So even when she comes to Asia, she can't stay in my home."
"When my friend and I were roughly 17, we came across some young transients in Philly. Being fresh from a youth group retreat and generally idealistic, we decided to buy them dinner. Then we decided to give them shelter for the night. We snuck them into my friend's gated community, and then into the clubhouse. When we came to bring them breakfast the next morning, the place was trashed. Like, chandelier ripped down from the ceiling, trashed.
While I am still more than happy to give whatever help I can to the homeless, I am less likely to give to the crust punks who are clearly homeless by choice."
"A friend, who was living in Europe, came to the US to visit family. Her husband was here for a couple of weeks while they visited family, but he went back to Europe for work while she stayed with us for the rest of the summer. Unbeknownst to us, she had stopped taking her medications and started racking up long distance phone calls to Europe in the middle of the night/early morning to talk to her husband. If she called his office and he wasn't there, she would just ask to be put on hold until he returned to the office.
We received a $3,000 phone bill and realized what had happened. Thankfully, our phone company at the time listened to my story and agreed not only to set us up with an international plan to call Europe cheaply, but they made it retroactive to when she started staying with us. $3,000 became less than $200."
"My two bonehead friends were at a party at my house this past Halloween. This was a brand new house. I noticed them go missing for a while and went to go check to make sure they were OK. I went to the room where we were keeping all the jackets and I noticed the door was locked. I heard two people giggling, so normally, I would think someone was hooking up or something, but all the women were accounted for. So I got the keys out to open the door and the giggling got louder. The second I unlocked the door, it quickly locked again.
Then it happened. The ground started rumbling and I heard, 'FOR THE SHIRE!' Kaboom. These two idiots broke down my door in my brand new house. I was on the other side and I got crushed. I was also holding a glass bottle, which got smashed. These guys are going to be at my wedding party this year. They bought me a new door and trim and installed it all. My fiancée didn't talk to them for weeks, and she was mad at me too!"
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"Someone at my house tried to increase the water pressure in the shower by twisting the little knob under the sink, which MAKES NO SENSE. So she did that and water started leaking inside the walls. She caused serious water damage to the paint and wood in three rooms and two stories of our house. She knew it happened, too. She just said, 'Whoops,' and never apologized either."
"This all happened when we were 14. I had one of those hanging chairs in my room. One time, a friend decided to climb onto it and swing like Miley Cyrus until I had to physically pull her off. She also went through my closet while I was in the bathroom, found a bunch of my old journals from elementary/middle school, and tried to read them. Then she started fighting me when I tried to take them away. I practically had to tackle her.
Also, every time she came over, she'd spend the entire time playing games on my iPad and ignoring me. One time, I hid the iPad and she spent the entire time laying on my couch looking depressed.
She was not a great friend."
"There are two categories of houseguests in this world: those who are grateful to see you and those who think you should be grateful for getting to see them. This brood counted themselves amongst the latter.
They were my ex-girlfriend's family, consisting of a mother, a grandmother, an aunt, an uncle, and a demonic child who may have finally ended up murdering all those idiots like I imagined he probably would someday. They whirled into town because my ex-girlfriend had an event and, whenever she had an event, some massive section of her clan would descend upon the city to offer all of the moral support.
They arrived while I was still at work. My girlfriend texted me and I cringed, knowing the results would probably be bad.
The living room was already destroyed. Completely destroyed. Furniture had been dragged away from the walls and repositioned to offer a better view of the television set. The coffee table was covered in debris: food wrappers, water bottles, glasses. The books I kept stacked there had been knocked over onto the floor, where they remained in a pile of chaotic mockery. Blankets had been pulled from every cranny and draped carelessly over whatever could hold them. The demon was sitting on one of the armrests of my easy chair and had subsequently pulled the armrest from the rest of the body.
Someone said hello to me and I couldn't handle it. I smiled as politely as I could and retreated to my office for the remainder of the evening. No one noticed me go and later on, I could hear the yelling and panic from the other room as someone knocked over a bottle of red juice and spilled its contents across my living room floor. Then they loaded up a movie and proceeded to argue about whether-or-not it was appropriate for the Demon. It was 'Bridget Jones's Diary.'
I spent the entire evening in that office, listening to them annihilate small pieces of my apartment through a mixture of hubris and strange entitlement, not leaving until I could be absolutely certain they were on their way out.
When I finally emerged, the room looked as though it had been ransacked by a gang of teenagers. Someone had ordered Chinese at some point, so now my kitchen was stacked full of filthy plates and leftovers. The trash can was overflowing, but no one had bothered to replace it. There were noodles on everything--the furniture, the tables, the sink. EVERYTHING.
The guests, upon witnessing this carnage, were content to simply leave. My ex's mother leaned in close, still wasted, and whispered, 'It looks like we made a mess. Sorry,' before escorting the grandmother from the door.
I was livid, but the ex wasn't prone to taking my side of these things. So I took photos of the whole thing and emailed them to my friends so I could at least share my contempt with friends."
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