 Inside the bag were 7 tiny puppies, which he threw from the bridge into the river, and fled the scene. If you like true revenge stories, you found the best place for your vengeful needs. Some are willing to use vengeful acts, such as nuclear revenge, to avenge their faithful companions. Grab your furry friend and enjoy these true stories. Before we start, be sure to let your puppy hit that like cookie for Uncle Royal AI. In this episode, we start off with a man throwing a bag of puppies into a river, but meets his demise shortly after. Followed by a aggressive man who punches a fish, but the fish gets the chance to punch back. Lastly, Philip the Duck is avenged by a loving owner. Let's dive in. Naturally, viewer discretion is advised. These revenge acts might be disturbing to snowflakes. This is my uncle's story, not mine. My uncle, Mike, used to have a friend that will call Jim. Jim owned a quiet mechanic shop, at the beginning of a dead-end dirt road. Many people would drive down the road, dump things, and drive back by the shop. Jim and Mike would often sit in front of the shop and keep an eye on people driving by, as there would be some shady characters out there sometimes. In front of the shop, the road had a bridge that went over a river. One day, a family driving by stopped on the bridge. Jim and Mike's attention was alerted by children absolutely screaming from inside the car. They watched as the father, who was also the driver, threw a sack from the bridge into the river, then sped off down the dirt road. They saw that the bag was moving and immediately sprung into action, climbed down the embankment and grabbed it. Inside the bag were seven tiny, living puppies. Jim was a dog lover and was not having this. He knew that since the road was a dead end, the family would have to drive back by. He grabbed his shotgun and stood in the middle of the road, waiting. They pulled up and he had the gun drawn. They stopped and he ordered the father out of the car. The mother and two small children were terrified. He then marched the father down to the river bank, out of sight of his family. He then screamed at the father for a good 10 minutes about his treatment of the animals, his poor parenting skills, and some other not so nice words. Then, for good measure, fired a shot into the ground. This shot was heard by the family waiting in the car. Their eyes went wide and the kids started screaming again. The mother started crying and shrieking. It was another two to three minutes before the father walked back up to the car, completely fine and uninjured. I am not agreeing with the actions here, but that sure was some revenge. Also Frick Puppy murderers. Fun update, he found homes for six of them and kept one dog. I worked at a marine biology center in Florida. It was sometime in June, and I was with some other employees, and a couple of visitors. We were exhibiting some of the animals we recently rescued. There was a turtle who had been hit by a propeller, a shark who had been cut by another animal, and I was taking care of a stingray who was recovering from being beached in a storm. Enter our animal abuser. This man is about in his 30s. He was in the center visiting with his wife and kids. He was yelling at them about some toy, and at the wife about being strict with the kids. He had a typical wife beater look. So they let their kids look around at the turtle, and the mom is on her phone. The guy walks up to me and says, whatcha got there? I say, we rescued a stingray who was beached during a storm, which is followed by a laugh as he says. How dumb does a fish gotta be to beach itself? I didn't really respond to the comment and just said that her name's Lucy. He takes a look at Lucy, and starts calling her ugly. I don't get what this guy's problem is, but I just keep my comments to myself. He gets too close to the ray though, and touches its face, bad move. The stingray jumps and splashes the guy with water. I laugh, which is stopped by his death stare. You stupid Pokemon, the man says as he punches Lucy right in the face. She is obviously startled by this, and swims to the other side of the container. I was furious by now, and said, hey, what's the matter with you, punching an innocent animal? He replies with, that stupid frequent had it coming. Instead of security taking him out, I figured I'd take matters into my own hands. Now I know this wasn't the best decision, but as I was battling my conscience, I glance over at the man as he's yelling at his kids again. I figure he deserves this. Okay, so this revenge has a lot of factors, luck, deviousness, and my unexperienced coworker. My coworker was new, and he helped me with the stingray. He didn't realize some stingrays have not one, but two spines to sting with, so today he was greeted by me scolding him. I figured I was gonna remove the second spine soon, but then I was distracted by the poophole who was yelling at the kids. I didn't really forget at this point, it was my key to revenge. I told the man to come over for a second and he came walking towards me. I pointed at something on the ceiling as a distraction, then got Lucy to come over closer to the guy. With one swift movement, I tripped and pushed the guy into the container, causing water to go everywhere and Lucy to freak out. As all the pieces miraculously fell into place, Lucy whipped her tail at the man and sliced him right across his back. For those who don't know, a stingray can easily slice right through clothes. She did, and the man was instantly screaming. The wife looked over from her phone, and the kids' eyes darted over as well. There was a bloody panic as the man was on the floor wincing with pain, blood all over, a screaming wife, bawling kids in panic from the employees. The paramedics were called, and the guy jumped up and charged me for bumping into him. People were holding him back and I was doing my best act to be frightened by the incident. He was rushed off, I was questioned by my boss, he believed me, and that was that. The man was in the hospital for a week, he had to get the poison out, and needed stitches for his back. You may not see this as nuclear, but it was. If there were complications with the paramedics arriving, he could have bled out. And he tried to sue us for almost killing him. But easily lost and was countersued for thousands of dollars. Tag on the week in the hospital, and this escalated into a great revenge. Be kind to nature kids. So, here is my story. Back in May of 1990, there was an unseasonably late snowstorm. A few days after it snowed, I was riding my bike, and found a baby duckling all by itself near a river. There was no mother duck around, so I put it inside my shirt to keep it warm and brought it home on my bike. My mother thought it would die, because it was so small, cold and wet and shivering, but I put it under a light, and after a while it dried off and started hopping around and peeping. It was so cute, it followed me like a puppy. I called it Philip, because it sounded like it was saying that whenever it peeped. So, after a few weeks, I figured I ought to teach it to swim and eat stuff in the lakes, so I started bringing it to a small local beach. Philip did well, he swam around, ate weeds and snails and everyone at the beach loved him. Now my troubles started. After I had brought Philip to the beach several times, the lifeguard told me that his boss, the director of parks and recreation, who will be known a stuffed shirt, had told him that there was a city ordinance against bringing pets to city parks. I tried to explain to the lifeguard that it was only for a few weeks, and then the duck would be grown up and able to live on its own, but he didn't care. I was bothered by this. How was I going to teach the duck to live on its own? I went to the library and got out the large blue books of city ordinances and looked up the relative ordinance and discovered something interesting. There was one ordinance that prohibited bringing dogs into city parks, and another that prohibited bringing horses into city parks, both of which I see happening fairly often. But no ordinance against bringing ducks into city parks. So, I went home and called stuffed shirt. However, it being a weekend, he wasn't in, so his secretary answered the phone. I told her what had happened and what the ordinance is actually said, and told her to tell stuffed shirt, that I would be bringing my duck to the beach anytime I felt like it. Well, apparently when stuffed shirt heard this, his head exploded. He called me back and told me that he had had a conference with the city attorney about my duck. And according to him, the city attorney had decided that the law should be interpreted to refer to all domestic or pet animals, not merely dogs or horses. Then he said he had called the DNR, because I was not supposed to have a duck. Now, please note the following at this point, attorneys are not privileged to interpret the law. Only judges are supposed to do that. And the law was not ambiguous such that it required interpretation. One specifically said dogs, the other specifically said horses. Note that at this point, my duck was referred to as a domestic animal. Anyway, a few days later the DNR agent shows up at my house, and marches right into my backyard, without ringing the doorbell, and without a warrant. We will call him but buddy, because I suspect that was his relation to stuffed shirt, as he wasn't even from my city. Stuffed shirt had gotten him to come over from another city. I was in my backyard at the time feeding Philip, and but buddy proceeds to read me the riot act. First he tells me that my duck was a wood duck, which is a wild animal, after stuffed shirt had previously referred to it as a domestic animal, and this was a lie. I learned later my duck was a mallard, which can be considered either wild or domestic, depending on the circumstances. Then he tells me, that I can't have a wood duck, which my duck wasn't, without a game farm license, and that I couldn't get a game farm license unless I had 40 acres of land. He then told me that I either had to let my duck go by the end of the day, or he would confiscate it and take it to a lake in another town, where I would never see it again. I told him my duck was too little to let go, and I was going to let it go in a month, but he wouldn't hear it. I was crying as I let my poor little duckling Philip go on the lake. I went back that evening to check on him, and he was cowering, terrified, under a boardwalk. The next day, I couldn't find him at all, he probably got eaten by something, because he was way too little to let go. Then, would you believe, the next week, but buddy the game warden, came back onto my property, without permission, again, to make sure the duck was not still there. Now, on to the revenge part. After losing my duck, I went to the library and spent hours looking up the laws about wildlife and game farms. And I found out something very interesting. But buddy the game warden had lied to me. As it turned out, you only needed 40 acres of land to get a game farm license on land where hunting, trapping, or killing of animals was going on. Otherwise, there was no land requirement to get a game farm license, only a pen size requirement, which my pen for my duckling more than met. If I was devastated and crying my eyes out before, now I was so furious that my head felt like exploding. They killed my duck, not because it was the law, but just for an ego trip. So I got even. I was the town eccentric, so I didn't have any reputation to lose, and didn't care what people thought of me. I spent the next several weeks walking around downtown and telling everyone who would stop and listen about my duck, and how stuffed shirt and butt buddy had lied to me and made me condemn my own pet to death. Maybe people thought I was nuts, but I didn't care. Everyone was finding out what happened. And stuffed shirt was getting scared. I had a friend from work, who also worked part-time in his office, and she told me he was so frightened, that he had gone to a lawyer to try to pursue a slander charge against me, to get to stop telling people what had happened. Only the lawyer told him, there was absolutely nothing that could be done, because the truth was an absolute defense against slander. And if he didn't like the truth, whose fault was that? Stuffed shirt's critical mistake, of course, was actually filing a complaint with the DNR, so that he could get butt buddy game warden to legitimately intimidate me into releasing my baby duckling way too soon. The DNR, like all government agencies, keeps records. If he tried to claim I was lying and slandering him, there was documented proof of what had happened. So the outcome? Stuffed shirt lost his cushy city bureaucrat job as the director of Parks and Recreation, and the last I heard of him, about 10 years after this happened, had lost two other jobs, his house, he couldn't make the payments when he had no job, his wife, who didn't want to stick around when he had no job, and was somewhere in a trailer park, drinking himself to death. I hope he did too. Thank you for enjoying this episode, which was made with artificial love. Subscribe or give royal ASMR sugar by avenging the like button. Could you imagine doing one of these acts yourself? Share your experience below. 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