When Jeremy and his wife, Nina, get home from a vacation, they are horrified to find Ted, Jeremy’s slob of a brother, in their home. After a confrontation which leads to angry parents and Nina moving out, Jeremy forces Ted’s hand, making him move out…
When I came home from vacation, I was expecting to relax, maybe pop open a bottle of wine with my wife, and enjoy the peace of our home. Instead, we walked into a living room that looked like a complete frat house after a party from Hell.
A couple on vacation | Source: Midjourney
There were beer cans everywhere, dirty clothes tossed in random piles, and the smell, my goodness, the smell. And there, sprawled out on my couch like he owned the place, was my older brother, Theodore, or Ted, as everyone called him.
“Ted, what the hell? What is this? Why are you in my house?” I asked, trying to stay calm, though my blood pressure was rising by the second.
Nina, my wife, looked around our living room and rolled her eyes. In that moment, I knew that I had to fix it or I’d have to deal with a very upset wife.
A messy living room | Source: Midjourney
My brother looked up, casually, like I hadn’t just caught him red-handed.
“Oh, hey, Jeremy,” he said. “Mom and Dad figured that it would be easier if I just moved in while you were gone. You’ve got all this space, and it’s not like you’re using it, you know? You and Nina are either working or on vacation.”
I blinked, trying to process the audacity of his words.
A man sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
“You moved in? You moved into my house? Without asking? Ted, are you insane?”
He rolled his eyes, lifting his feet onto the couch and crossing them like he was about to watch a movie.
“Yeah, so what?” he said. “I needed a place to stay, and it’s not like you’d say yes. So, we decided to skip that part. Quit being so uptight, Jeremy. Just help a brother out.”
A man sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
It was like a switch flipped inside me, the years of watching him leech off my parents, his life one big excuse after another, and somehow, he was the victim here.
Now, he’d taken over my house. Really?
Just as I opened my mouth to speak, my phone rang. Mom. Of course.
I answered, trying to keep my voice as calm as possible.
A man holding his phone | Source: Midjourney
“Mom, did you and Dad seriously let Theodore move into my house while I was away?”
“Why are you using my full name?” Ted chimed in from the background.
I ignored him.
“Jeremy, don’t be so dramatic,” my mother said, not even a hint of apology in her voice. “Ted needed a place to stay, and you’ve got all that room. You don’t even have kids yet. So what’s the harm in helping out your brother?”
An annoyed woman | Source: Midjourney
I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath.
“Mom, he is 42 years old. He isn’t a kid. You’ve let him mooch off you for years, and you want to dump him on me? Are you being serious? Why do you want to treat him like he’s a kid just out of college?”
My mother’s tone shifted, and she immediately went on the defense.
“Oh, mooching, huh?” she said. “I’m disappointed in you, Jeremy. He’s been through a lot. You don’t understand what it’s like to be him. You’ve always had everything together. Ted needs a little more help. And as family, you owe it to him.”
A frowning man | Source: Midjourney
Been through a lot? My brother had two children under the age of five, with two different women. And he didn’t bother to support either of them. How was I supposed to feel sorry for this man?
Before I could respond, my father took the phone, his voice taking over my ear, sounding even more irritated.
“Jeremy, stop being selfish. You’ve got the money, the house, the wife. What’s the big deal? It’s your job to take care of your family. Ted is your brother. He is staying.”
Two young children | Source: Midjourney
I almost lost my mind. I almost let my anger take over me. But then I remembered that it just wasn’t my style. Ted might’ve thought that he had won this time, but I had a plan.
“It’s not about the space, Dad,” I said. “It’s about respect. Ted can’t just live here without my permission. Nina and I have worked hard for our home. And what’s even worse? My wife just has to deal with this, too.”
From the couch, Ted snorted.
A man sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
“Oh, come on. Don’t act like you’re all high and mighty. It’s just a house,” he said.
“But you’ve been freeloading off Mom and Dad for years. Why should I trust that you’d do anything differently here? Why can’t you stay with one of your kids and their mom?”
I thought that was the card that would have frustrated him. But he didn’t even flinch.
A frowning man | Source: Midjourney
“Because I’m family, that’s why. Why do you always act like I’m a stranger? It’s my right to stay here. Mom and Dad said that you’d be like this, but I didn’t think you’d be this bad.”
I was done.
“Fine, Ted,” I said. “You want to stay? Sure. Let’s see how that works out.”
I was fine with being horrible to my brother, I mean, someone had to teach him a lesson. But when I went upstairs to tell Nina about everything that had happened on the phone, she was highly frustrated.
A disgruntled man | Source: Midjourney
“Jer, you can’t be serious,” she said as I sat down on the bed across her.
“I’m going to fix it. I promise you, Nina. I’ll make this right. But I’m going to teach him a lesson first.”
“Well, I don’t want to be here for it. You have a week. Get him out, or I’ll stay gone,” she said.
“What do you mean by that?” I asked.
An annoyed woman | Source: Midjourney
“I’m going to my sister’s house, Jeremy. I can’t stand your brother, and I will not stay here while he’s here,” she said, packing a suitcase as she spoke.
“I’ll make this right, my love,” I promised her.
For the next week, I made Ted’s life a waking nightmare without ever raising my voice. And with Nina gone, I had a bigger incentive to get him out.
A woman packing a suitcase | Source: Midjourney
The first thing I did was disconnect the Wi-Fi. Ted, who spent most of his days glued to his phone or binge-watching shows on the TV, was completely lost.
He complained, but I just smiled.
“Oh, the internet? Yeah, it’s been spotty.”
Next, I shut off the hot water. Ted loved his long, lazy showers, but now he was greeted with ice-cold water every morning.
Water running in a shower | Source: Midjourney
“Must be something wrong with the plumbing,” I’d say innocently when he whined about it.
Then, there was the food.
I stocked the fridge with nothing but tofu, vegetables, and the healthiest food I could find. Ted hated anything that wasn’t greasy or fried. And now, every time he opened the fridge, he groaned like I was starving him.
“You’re family, right?” I’d say. “I’m sure you can deal with a little inconvenience. But it’s for my health, so you’ll be fine.”
An array of healthy food | Source: Midjourney
To top it all off, I started blasting music at 6 a.m. every day while I had my treadmill session in the gym room. I figured if Ted wasn’t going to contribute to the household, the least he could do was get up early.
He hated it all, of course. And by day five, he looked like he was on the verge of losing his mind.
“Jeremy, man, this is BS,” Ted said one morning, his voice filled with frustration. “I can’t stay here. How do you live like this? No Wi-Fi, no hot water, and no food I enjoy. This is torture.”
A man on a treadmill | Source: Midjourney
I raised an eyebrow.
“I thought you’d be grateful to stay, Ted. It’s not like you’re paying rent or contributing anything. What’s the problem?”
He grumbled something under his breath, clearly fuming.
“Forget it, I’m going back to Mom and Dad’s.”
An annoyed man | Source: Midjourney
As he stormed out, dragging his junk with him, I couldn’t help but smile.
But I wasn’t done yet. I cleaned the house top to bottom, went out to get proper groceries, and cooked Nina a good meal. I had already called her during the day and told her that Ted was gone.
“Come home, honey,” I said.
“I’ll see you later,” she said, and I could hear the smile in her voice.
A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
While waiting for Nina to shower, I knew that there was just one more thing to do.
“Mom, Dad,” I said on the phone. “Ted’s out of my house. And he won’t be coming back again. He’s your problem again.”
My mother was furious.
“Jeremy, you can’t just kick him out! Where will he go?”
“That’s up to Ted, Mom. He’s 42. If you guys want to keep coddling him, go ahead. But I’m done.”
A man talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
After that, I heard that Ted moved back into my parents’ house, but they demanded that he transform the garage into his own space. They forced him to get a job.
Ted was upset, of course, so they blamed it all on me. But I was fine with that. Nina and I had our home back, and we were at peace.
A garage converted into a bedroom | Source: Midjourney
What would you have done?
If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |
My Husband ‘Accidentally’ Locked Me in the Basement to Watch Basketball with His Friends at Our House
Dani cannot stand her husband’s friends. So when Ethan brings up the possibility of having them over to watch a basketball game, she shuts down the idea. On the evening of the game, Dani finds herself going into the basement to get a pack of beer, but before she knows it, she’s locked inside. What happens next?…
I should have just said no from the start. Not just when Ethan brought up the idea of his friends coming over for dinner. I mean way before that, like when I first realized how awful they were. I never outright said that I didn’t hate them, but let me be honest with you: I think I made it pretty clear.
An annoyed woman | Source: Midjourney
But my husband, Ethan?
He’s so different from these guys. At 35, he’s a successful manager at a tech company, and for reasons that I will never understand, he’s still friends with the same guys he went to high school with.
They’re loud, rude, and completely unlike Ethan. They’re everything he left behind when he made something of himself.
Except, apparently, his loyalty to them.
A man sitting in his office | Source: Midjourney
“Dani, it’s just one game,” he said that night, sitting in the kitchen with a hopeful grin. “The guys really want to watch the game here. They’re dying to see our new TV setup. It’ll be fun!”
I sighed, trying to stay calm. I could almost see the dreadful evening unfolding. I knew that Ethan’s friends would take over the house, inappropriate comments getting into every conversation.
“Ethan, you know how I feel about them. Every single time they come over, it’s like our house gets turned into a frat house. I’m not cleaning up after them again. It’s not happening.”
A man sitting at a kitchen counter | Source: Midjourney
My husband’s face dropped, a look of wounded pride flashing in his eyes.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
After I restored the motorcycle my father had gifted me, he took it back — so I found a way to get my revenge
I caught them effortlessly, but I was confused.
“What’s this for?” I asked. They didn’t look like car keys, and I already had my mom’s old car anyway.
My dad nodded toward a dusty tarp in the corner of the garage. It had been there for as long as I could remember, covering up something that I was told not to touch.
When I pulled the tarp off, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. It was my dad’s old Harley, a ’73 Shovelhead. It was the stuff of my childhood dreams, the bike that had always seemed just out of reach.
All I had wanted to do when I was younger was steal my dad’s leather jacket and sit on the motorcycle. But he always shouted at me whenever I tried to touch it.
“If there’s one scratch on it, Seth,” he would say, “I’ll take all your spending money away.”
That was enough to keep me away from the dream bike.
“You’re giving me the Harley?” I asked, my voice a mix of disbelief and excitement.
My father shrugged it off like it was nothing.
“Yeah, why not, son?” he declared. “It hasn’t run in years, to be honest, so good luck with that. Consider it a late birthday gift, Seth.”
I could barely believe it.
I was finally going to ride that bike, and feel the engine roaring beneath me, the wind in my hair. It was going to be everything I had dreamt of and more. I was finally going to be like my dad.
I ran my hand over the cracked leather seat, taking in the gift.
“Thanks, Dad,” I said. “I promise I’ll take good care of her.”
The moment those keys were in my hand, that motorcycle became my new obsession.
“Jeez, son,” the mechanic said when I took the Harley over in a friend’s old pickup truck. “There’s a lot to be done here. But I can do the big things for you, and you’ll be able to sort out the smaller things if you’re confident enough.”
I saved every penny from my barista role at the café. I was extra polite to all my customers, hoping for large tips, ready to go straight into the motorcycle restoration fund.
Soon, my nights, weekends, and any and all free time I had were spent outside with the motorcycle. I tore it down and put it back together, better than ever, restoring old parts. I watched countless YouTube tutorials and read every manual I could find.
“What are you doing now?” my roommate, Brett, asked when I was hunched over my laptop on the couch.
“I’m looking at forums online for tips about the motorcycle,” I said.
“That’s all you do these days, buddy,” he said, chuckling.
Fourteen months later, the day finally came. I polished the last piece of chrome, stood back, and admired my work. The Harley gleamed under the garage lights, looking like it had just rolled off the assembly line.
“Good job, Seth,” I muttered to myself.
I could hardly contain my excitement as I thought about showing it to my parents, especially my dad. I imagined the pride on his face, the way his eyes would light up when he saw what I’d done.
I hoped that he would finally be proud of something I had done. But nothing prepared me for what was to come next.
I rode it over to my parents’ house, the engine purring beneath my legs like a big cat. As I parked in the driveway, I felt a rush of nerves. I hadn’t felt this anxious since I was waiting for my acceptance letter for college.
“Mom? Dad?” I called, walking into the hallway.
“We’re in the kitchen,” my mom called.
I walked into the kitchen, and there they were. My dad was drinking a cup of tea, and Mom was busy putting together a lasagna.
“I’ve got something to show you!” I said. “It’s outside.”
They followed me outside, their eyes going wide when they saw the motorcycle.
“Oh my gosh, Seth,” my dad exclaimed. “Is that the Harley? My old Harley? She looks beautiful!”
“Yes,” I said, grinning. “I’ve spent the last year working on it. What do you think?”
Before they could answer, my dad moved closer to the motorcycle. His eyes narrowed as he took it in. He ran his hands along the chrome as though he couldn’t believe his own eyes.
“You did all this?” he asked, his voice tight.
“I did!” I said, beaming proudly. “Every spare moment and extra cash went into this project. And now she’s perfect.”
For a second, I thought I saw pride flicker in his eyes, but then his expression changed. His face darkened, and I felt something change in me.
“You know, Seth,” he said slowly, “this bike is worth a hell of a lot more now. I think I was too generous when I gave it to you.”
I blinked, not understanding.
“What do you mean, Dad?”
My father cleared his throat, not meeting my eyes.
“I’m going to take it back,” he said, his tone final. “And I’ll give you $1,000 for your trouble.”
“Are you serious?” I asked, barely containing my anger.
He nodded.
“It’s only fair, Seth.”
I wanted to yell, to tell him how unfair he was being, how much time and money I’d poured into that bike. But I knew that arguing wouldn’t get me anywhere. My father was too stubborn.
“Sure,” I said. “Whatever you think is fair.”
He looked surprised that I didn’t fight him on it, but I wasn’t done with my revenge. If he wanted to play dirty, then fine. I could play that game too. I just needed to be smarter about it.
A few days later, I saw my father posting on social media about his “newly restored” motorcycle and that he was taking the Harley to an upcoming bike meet with his old biking buddies.
“Now it’s on,” I said to myself.
When the day of the meet arrived, I watched from a distance as my father rolled up on the Harley, looking every bit the proud owner of a beautiful bike. He revved the engine, drawing the attention of everyone in the parking lot.
But what he didn’t know was that I’d made a little modification of my own.
Under the seat, I’d installed a small switch—it was nothing fancy. But it was a precaution in case the Harley was ever stolen. The switch, when accessed, would cut off the fuel line with a quick flick of the remote, which was firmly planted in my hand.
I waited until he was right in the middle of the crowd, basking in the admiration, and then, from a distance, I pressed the button.
The Harley sputtered, the engine dying with a weak cough. Soon, my father’s smug grin disappeared as he tried to restart it, but the engine wouldn’t give.
The murmurs began, making their way through the crowd, and a few of his buddies laughed under their breath.
“Need a hand, Dad?” I asked when I made my way over to him.
He glared at me, but I could see the desperation in his eyes. He nodded, too embarrassed to say anything. I knelt down, pretending to fiddle with the bike for a moment before “fixing” the problem by turning off the switch.
The engine roared back to life, but by then, the damage was done.
The look of embarrassment on my dad’s face was worth every second of the work I had put into the Harley.
He handed me the keys, his jaw clenched tightly.
“It’s yours,” he said, walking away.
I smiled, knowing the Harley was mine, and so was my father’s respect, even if he couldn’t say it.
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