 This kid kept to himself who he saw killing his father, yet he secretly plotted his revenge and grew stronger for 12 years for the ultimate revenge. Some call it family, some call it chaos, but if someone harms your family, you might feel more hurt than receiving it yourself. This motivates some to not go to bed angry, they stay awake and plot nuclear revenge. Here we go. A child witnesses the murder of his father, stays silent for 12 years to grow strong and plot in darkness. An abusive husband loses his family, house, visa and more. A family's incompetence threatens the health of the neighborhood children. A not-so-family man A-hole loses his most prized possession due to being an A-hole. Naturally, viewer discretion is advised. These revenge acts might be disturbing to snowflakes. When Khan was just 12 years old, he witnessed the gruesome murder of his father by a family friend in 2003. He waited 12 full years for a shot at revenge. He didn't say who he saw killing his father, yet he secretly plotted his revenge and grew stronger. At 24, he saw an opportunity and invited the killer over to his house for a refreshing beverage and to help Khan with house repair work. The old family friend he used to be. After getting the family friend killer drunk, Khan attacked him with a knife and cut him in 12 pieces, one for every year he had to wait, while playing loud music. He was captured by police later. He told them, I'm happy it's done now. My Australian cousin has just met a wonderful person, he cared for her, loved her, and really treated her in a special caring way. Or so we thought. One day she came in the middle of the night to my house, and then I saw her, with her son, both had bruises on their face. As it turns out, he just married her for her privileges as an Australian. So when they got a son, she got pressured to handle the abuse and stay with him just so that she can see her son. And now this guy is gonna pay. Important side note, this story happened in Lebanon, Australia, Lebanon, in that order, bear with me. My family and I devised an elaborate plan to send the cousin and her son to Australia, where she has more custody rights over there, but we also had to make her get some money to start of her business there as well. First we went to the police, who said that they can't arrest him because the cousin didn't report him, so we took the opportunity to take sweet care of him. So later that night one of my cousins and I attacked him with bars of soap wrapped in a towel, no bruises or wounds, and we slapped him until they broke. And after he went to the police station to report us, they laughed at him. After he got out we warned him to leave Lebanon before we seriously hurt him. After this confrontation he got his wife, son, and $100,000. Here came the tricky part, we had to have incriminating evidence of his abuse to black mail him and we can't attack him in Australia, so after my aunt helped them get a house, she rigged a camera, and after she captured the abuse and timed the recordings, my cousin took her son and $100,000. When the guy tried to confront her and take his son and money back to Lebanon, he was shown the incriminating footage and given an ultimatum. He either leaves Australia without divorcing the wife with the son and he might get killed, we beat him up for beating the son, where he leaves Australia penniless, and he chose the latter. When he made back to Lebanon he slipped into alcoholism, he lost his family and his house due to his temper issues, lost his visa since his ex-wife reported him anyway, and is currently a homeless man. I saw him while I was in the car in Lebanon, I'm currently stuck there due to COVID. And he looked so empty, even when he saw me and recognized me, but he didn't react. And then I realized that I made him lose everything, even his Australian visa got revoked, but then you realized that this man deserved it. My cousin is currently running a restaurant with her new husband and is a truly amazing guy. A few years ago, at the age of 22, I was diagnosed with epilepsy, which came out of the blue. In my appointments with the epilepsy nurse and my neurologist, I was informed, by way of informing those who were looking for a cause for my epilepsy, that I had suffered from measles when I was around 13 months old, and was not yet fully vaccinated against it. Upon returning home, I spoke with my sister and remarked that I had never heard of this before. In private, my sister decided that, as it was me who was involved, I had the right to know what she knew of the story. However, she was only eight years old at the time and was unsure of the true extent of what had transpired. The story that she told me was as follows. Shortly after I was born, a family moved onto our street, and they had a son who was around my sister's age. My sister wasn't fond of him. He was a bit pushy, but not in an unkind way. He likely just wanted to make friends and pushed his way into playing with the other children. My sister, however, has an anxiety disorder, and has had it for a long time, and she didn't really appreciate his behavior, finding him quite intimidating. She knew very little about his parents, and has never actually spoken to them. About a year later, I came down with the measles and was rushed to the hospital with severe complications. My sister explained that, as far as she was aware, the family was opposed to vaccinations and believed that the only way to build a natural immunity was to be infected with a virus. As such, when their unvaccinated son contracted the measles, the first thing that they thought of was to do the other families on the street a favor and send their infectious son out to play with the other children without warning anybody. My sister inadvertently brought the virus into the house, and we were both infected. She shrugged it off, but I wasn't so lucky. Twenty-one years later, I would find out that this virus and the seizures that it caused at the time cause scarring in my brain that has left me with epilepsy and all of the joys that come with that. Lovely stuff. I returned from the hospital after an anti-climactic recovery, and a month later, the family disappeared. Until recently, that was all that I knew of the situation. My parents were understandably traumatized by the whole thing, and they didn't like to talk about it, so I dropped it into conversation with an elderly neighbor who was not in any way affiliated with what happened at the time. I was informed that, while I was in the hospital, my grandmother, who has passed away, had confronted the family over what they had done during a time when it was still possible that I might have died. Their response had made my grandmother live it, and she had gone around telling everyone what they had said, which was essentially something to the effect of, you should be thanking us. She'll be much safer now that she's had it. She'll have a more natural immunity, now. To my neighbor's knowledge, nobody liked that, and for good reason. On top of that, parents didn't feel safe with them around, and there were other infants on the street who were my age or younger. People hurtled abuse at them, he recalled, and they ended up leaving to stay with relatives before the house could even be sold. It was only recently that the extent of the abuse was relayed to me by another neighbor who may or may not have taken part in it all. Their tires were slashed multiple times, almost as soon as they were replaced. Their car was keyed. When people weren't hurtling abuse at them in the street, they wrote handwritten letters calling them every obscene name under the sun and reminding them that they could be responsible for my death, posting them through their mailbox and sticking them to their windows and doors. The resident baseball boy, with the blessing of everybody present, tore their letterbox off their wall and smashed it in with a baseball bat. One of the residents on the street had a pair of cats, and when they brought any little presents home, she would scoop up the unfortunate prey with a shovel and leave them on their doorstep. This evolved to include the waste of the cats too, and another neighbor who had a dog decided to do the same with his dog's droppings. This would be done primarily when they were out of the house, and this was being done in the heat of summer, so you can only imagine the smell and the cloud of flies that would be wafting around their porch when they returned hours later. The owner of the dog even went as far as to smear the droppings all over their door handle in as much of their front window as he could, though people found this just a bit too disgusting, so he stopped. While the abuse and letters kept up, people very quickly stopped leaving droppings and such on their porch, or sticking the letters to their windows because, unfortunately, their young lad, who was about seven to eight, got caught in the crossfire. Some of the older children caught on to the fact that their parents didn't like his family and began to bully him without really ever knowing why his family was hated so much, and this ended up reaching him at school. To their credit, they realized that he likely didn't understand what was going on, and it wasn't his fault, so they dialed it back a bit and kept the abuse to where only the parents could see. This family was so distressed that they took their son and ran to the sibling of one of the parents after the sibling of the other told them quite frankly that they didn't want their unvaccinated son around their children. The house was sold in their absence. I wondered aloud why the police weren't called, because some of the perpetrators were very obvious, at which point I was informed that these people had an inherent distrust of any and all authority figures and held the belief that the system was against them, they were being oppressed, and that the police would sweep it all under the rug. So they just left instead of exposing their son to the biased police, which is really baffling to me, because in my country, their community is a majority, and they'd be more likely to receive support. So, the moral of the story is to vaccinate your children folks. This happened back in 1989. The story involves my stepdad, who I call my dad, my biological dad I call Donald Duck, and my sister. The person who exacted their revenge has passed now, so it should be safe to tell. I was living outside the country when this happened, so my sister relayed all of this information to me about a year after it happened. We recently got together again and went over the events. My biological parents married when they were very young and Donald Duck was still in law school. The marriage lasted long enough to produce two children, my sister who is 14 months my elder and myself. They were divorced before I was born. Donald was a serial cheater, a pathological liar, and a total A-hole. He still is, at least a liar and A-hole. He's in his mid-70s now so maybe not so much with the cheating. The fact that he is still working as a lawyer I think is indicative that he was never a good one, as he evidently doesn't have enough to retire. I've looked up reviews on him online and it's funny to see that most reviewers say that he is not only a terrible lawyer, but a horrible person. When Sis was 22 she was a single mother and my nephew, her son, was around 3. Her company transferred her to another state. She discovered that Donald Duck lived in a town near her new work location and thought that he might be able to help her get her bearings in a new place. For a short time when we were teenagers, he has some sporadic involvement in our lives after moving to a neighboring city, it was mostly him trying to impress us with how cool and rich he thought we should think he was. So, though it had been a few years since she had seen him it's not like they were complete strangers. In any case, Donald Duck agreed to let Sis move into his apartment with him, his way younger girlfriend at that time, and her 9-month-old child, which is not his, until she was able to find her own place. He also offered to allow her to keep her belongings in his storage unit. Sis took him up on his offer. Never did Donald Duck make any reference to being paid for the use of the storage unit or paying for utilities at the apartment. Sis stayed 3 months and did her best to get out as quickly as she could in as far as she could once she became more familiar with the area. Living with him was hard, did I mention he is an A-hole? Her young son would find his pregnant lady porno mags around the apartment, this was pre-internet. Mr. Duck's young girlfriend was able to help with babysitting, something Sis paid her for. So Sis gets her own apartment, but all of her things, her son's toys, her furniture, household items, everything but her own bed was still in the storage unit. So she called him to figure out how she could get her things back, but he seemed to want to hang on to them for some reason. He said, you owe girlfriend money for babysitting and you can't get your things back until you pay her. She said, have you talked to her? I have paid her everything I owed her. He puts down the phone and talks to girlfriend and she confirms that she has been paid. He then says, well you owe a third of the utilities for the time you were here. She reminded him that he had never said anything about that. He gets a little heated and she's feeling desperate and angry and shouts an accusation of something he did to her when she was very young, but that's a different story. He asked her if she ever told it to anybody else, she didn't. And he said, if you ever do, I will snap your freaking neck. And the conversation ends. She had given up and thought she would never see her things again. About 20 minutes later she gets a call from an acquaintance who had actually gone on one or two dates with Donald before she met my sister. He tells Cis that Mr Duck had just called her asking if Cis had ever told her anything that he might have done to Cis. Hinting at the accusation Cis had made. Cis had never told anyone and the acquaintance told Donald as much. Cis later calls my stepdad whom we have always considered to be our dad. He is the only father we knew growing up and he was in the picture since before we were old enough to remember. He married my mom when I was an infant and my sister a toddler. They were married 40 years until my mom's death. He passed on in 2017. The guy absolutely had faults, and we often felt better when he wasn't around, but he tried and it's not easy raising someone else's kids, and he was our dad as far as we were concerned, he actually legally adopted us. He absolutely hated to see someone be taken advantage of because they were in a weaker position, in other words he hated a bully and Donald Duck was being a bully. When I was in the first grade I rode a school bus with middle and high school students. There were a couple of kids who would bully me. When he found out he confronted the bully's dads and it ended. Another time, I was in the third grade and driving somewhere with him in his pickup around town and he saw two young teenagers destroying a bicycle that he assumed they had stolen. He stopped and confronted them with his big framing hammer, this was a big Von 16, I have one like it in his honor. Years later he broke my mom out of a mental institution by threatening the director with that same hammer. Yes, we were a fun family. Anyway, when sis calls him explaining that Donald Duck is holding all of her possessions hostage and she doesn't know what to do, he tells her that he knows several crips who would be happy to rough him up and wouldn't even want to be paid, they would do it for pleasure. Dad was very bothered that Donald was keeping his grandsons things from him and wanted to hurt Mr Duck. Sis declines this offer. He then asks her, what is the thing that he values most in this world? She responds, his car. His car at that point was a Porsche he had purchased knew just a few years before. It wasn't quite the absolute entry level model, but pretty close. Of course he had all kinds of arguments about why it was actually better than the more expensive ones. Obviously it was red. Dad was trying to come up with a way not only to get revenge, but to scare Mr Duck enough to force him to give sis back her things. Sis said she was fine with whatever he wanted to do if it got her belongings back, but wanted to make sure none of it could be traced back to her. Nothing happens until about a month later and Donald Duck calls sis out of the blue as if nothing had ever happened and asks, hey, when would you like to come get your things? How about this Saturday? Evidently, he had some change of heart that is unexplained to this day. She didn't trust him so she didn't want to go alone. She was able to get a male friend to go with her. She gets a u-haul and just picks up her stuff and gets out. That very evening she tried several times to call Dad to let him know that she got her things back and all was well, no need for any drastic measures. But it was too late, the wheels had been set in motion. He never answers the phone. Remember this is pre-cell phone days so when you're not at home, you don't answer. At 11.30 p.m. sis gets a call from Donald's girlfriend who asks her, what are you doing? Sis replies I'm at home in bed, why? She responds, someone just blew up Donald's car. Sis's heart drops. She obviously knows who did it. The police ask Donald Duck who would want to do this to him and he answers sis's name, so she becomes suspect number one. Donald was scared and they were spending the night in a hotel. Fortunately the call from girlfriend to sis just a few minutes after the explosion gave sis her alibi, sis lived over 30 minutes away and could not have answered her home phone if she had been the one to ignite the bomb. The bomb did its job well. It turned the Porsche into an unrecognizable wreck, took out the adjacent car, the Porsche was parked at the end of the carport so there was only one car parked next to it and destroyed many feet of the carport above both cars. I'm guessing the tank in the Porsche was near full. Just after sis gets off the phone she calls mom telling her that someone blew up Mr. Duck's car and she thinks it was dad. While she is on the phone with mom, another call comes in, it's dad. He says mysteriously, there is a box outside your door. Bring it in. You never talk to me tonight. Sis is a little afraid to open the box but it turns out to be just some of her son's items that he had left with his grandpa, clothes and toys. Months later at Christmas sis asked dad about it and he confessed. Turns out he really was physically sick when he pulled that stunt. Sis was touched that he would go to so much effort and risk jail time for her, all while being ill. She asked him if he was scared driving back, he said yes and that every headlight behind him he took to be a cop until he reached the state line. Sis found out from girlfriend that the cop said the job was very amateur, certainly not the work of professional. But hey, it did the job. Dad told sis he had asked a co-worker who was once a member of the aforementioned crypts about how to make a car bomb and she instructed him. He always did love blowing things up. When I was 13 we bonded over crumbling up the old colored sparklers into powder, funneling the powder into a spent CO2 cartridge, using another sparkler as a fuse and making bombs powerful enough to blow up those old metal milk cans that hold a few gallons. Anyway, sis says it was some sort of Molotov cocktail stuffed into the tailpipe, but I'm not sure how that would work. I truly regret not discussing it with him personally, but we weren't close since I left home. If you didn't need him, he had a hard time having a relationship with you. One hilarious detail, Donald Duck continued to father off spring and date very young women. His current wife is my age exactly and he has a daughter many years younger than my youngest child. A couple of years ago, I had a conversation with one of these half sisters, a marvelous person despite half her DNA. Her mother was never married to Donald and this sister is the age of my youngest daughter. I told her the story of the exploded Porsche. She found it very amusing because she says Donald loves to tell a story about how he was prosecuting some mob bosses and a couple of thugs came to his door trying to threaten him. Of course, being the big bad brave man he is, he did not back down. And what was his reward? Those thugs blew up his car. I think it's hilarious that he tells this story to his children, but now they know the truth. He is the biggest bullshitter I have ever met. Also, due to Donald's allegation that it was my sister who blew up his car, not actual mobsters, but a 22 year old girl, the condo association or whatever tried to sue my sister for the damage to the carport. It came to naught. They were grasping at straws because there was no evidence of course, but it did scare her and cause some anxiety. Thank you for enjoying this episode, which was made with artificial love. Subscribe or give me some sugar by smashing the like button. Royal AI would love to hear your experience or what you think of these stories in the comment section.