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\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\nAfter 14 hours of bedpans, vomit, and a guy who insisted his \u201cfriend\u201d was the one who \u201caccidentally\u201d sat on a remote control, I dragged my scrub-wearing, caffeine-depleted body home. All I wanted was a hot shower, half a frozen pizza, and blessed silence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Instead, I found myself standing in thirty-degree weather, staring at my front door like it had just slapped me\u2026 because my key wouldn\u2019t go in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I tried again. Nothing. Wiggled it. Nope. I turned it upside down because sometimes keys are just moody like that. Still nothing worked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cCome on,\u201d I muttered, jiggling harder. \u201cI\u2019ve had patients at the ER less difficult than you today.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That\u2019s when I noticed something small wedged deep in the keyhole. I squinted, using my phone flashlight to get a better look.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
There was a toothpick jammed in the lock.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou\u2019ve got to be kidding me,\u201d I groaned, poking at it helplessly with my car key. I jiggled, cursed, even tried poking it out with a bobby pin. Nothing worked.
Fifteen minutes later, I was still standing there with frozen toes and a colorful vocabulary that would make my patients blush.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I gave up and called my brother.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cDanny? It\u2019s me. I\u2019m locked out.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAgain? Did you lose your keys at the hospital? Because last time\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNo, there\u2019s a toothpick stuck in my lock.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat the hell? I\u2019ll be right over.\u201d
Ten minutes later, Danny\u2019s rusted pickup rolled into my driveway. He hopped out wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt that read \u201cI PAUSED MY GAME TO BE HERE.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cShouldn\u2019t you be wearing a coat?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cShouldn\u2019t you be inside your house?\u201d he countered, brandishing a miniature toolkit like he was about to defuse a bomb.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I watched as he examined the lock, his breath forming little clouds in the cold air.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYep! That\u2019s a toothpick in there,\u201d he said, fishing a pair of tweezers from his kit. \u201cAnd it didn\u2019t get there by accident.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSomeone put it there\u2026 on purpose.\u201d He worked silently for a few minutes, then triumphantly held up a tiny wooden splinter. \u201cThere we go. Try it now.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The key slid in smoothly and I sighed with relief.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou think it was just kids?\u201d I asked hopefully.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Danny shook his head. \u201cKids don\u2019t have this kind of patience. Call me if it happens again, okay?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIt won\u2019t!\u201d I said confidently.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cFamous last words,\u201d he called over his shoulder as he headed back to his truck.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And yup! It happened again. Exactly 24 hours later.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou\u2019re kidding me,\u201d Danny said when I FaceTimed him. I could hear the clinking of beer bottles in the background.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMaybe I have a really dedicated enemy at the homeowners\u2019 association? I did put up those Christmas lights in February.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Danny showed up looking mildly insulted at the universe. \u201cAlright,\u201d he said, brushing past me, \u201cnow I\u2019m interested.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThis is targeted. Want to catch them?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWith what? A mousetrap?\u201d I said, rolling my eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cBetter. I\u2019ve got a security camera. Used it to catch the raccoons that kept knocking over my garbage cans. I\u2019ll set it up tomorrow.\u201d
The next morning, Danny arrived with a camera that looked like it had survived several wars and a fall from a cliff.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThis thing still works?\u201d I asked dubiously.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cOf course it works. It\u2019s built like a Nokia phone.\u201d He climbed the maple tree in my front yard with surprising agility for someone whose exercise regimen consisted mainly of walking to the fridge.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cPerfect angle. It\u2019ll catch anyone coming up to your door, and you\u2019ll get the footage straight to your phone.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That evening, I sat in my car, hunched over my phone like a teenager waiting for a text back from their crush. At 7:14 p.m., my phone buzzed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
One new video popped up, and my stomach did a somersault when I watched the footage.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cJOSH??\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Yup! My ex-boyfriend. The one I\u2019d caught sending late-night texts to his \u201cwork friend\u201d Amber while I was pulling double shifts at the hospital. The one who\u2019d been \u201cworking late\u201d at the office when his credit card was busy buying dinner for two at restaurants I\u2019d been begging him to take me to for months.
I watched the video three times, not believing my eyes. There he was, in his stupid puffy jacket, carefully inserting a toothpick into my lock with the precision of someone performing microsurgery.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat the hell?\u201d I gasped.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I\u2019d broken up with him six months ago. No screaming, no dramatic scene\u2026 just a quiet conversation where I laid out the evidence and walked away. I thought we\u2019d parted civilly. Apparently not.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I was fuming. But I didn\u2019t call the cops. I called Connor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHe did what?\u201d he barked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Connor is six-foot-four with tattoos and bad decisions that somehow always work out. He runs a custom auto shop with my brother, rides a motorcycle that sounds like a dragon with indigestion, and looks like he could bench-press a small car.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
We dated for about three weeks five years ago before mutually deciding we made better friends than lovers\u2026 though the \u201cfriend\u201d label occasionally blurred after particularly lonely holidays or wedding receptions.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHe put a toothpick in my lock. Twice,\u201d I repeated, still staring at the paused video of Josh\u2019s face, illuminated by my porch light.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThat\u2019s\u2026 creative. Want me to talk to him?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cBy \u2018talk,\u2019 do you mean threaten him with bodily harm? Because I\u2019m not bailing you out of jail again.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThat was one time, Reggie. And I didn\u2019t actually hit anyone.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou threw a man\u2019s toupee into a fountain.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIt attacked me first. But no, I\u2019ve got a different idea. Does Josh still drive by your place sometimes?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cProbably. He lives three streets over.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cPerfect. Here\u2019s what we\u2019re going to do\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The next evening, I made a show of leaving my house at 6:45 p.m. I even called someone loudly on my phone as I walked to my car: \u201cYeah, I\u2019ll be there in twenty minutes! Save me a seat!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then I parked around the corner, sneaked back through my neighbor\u2019s yard, and entered through my back door. Connor was already inside, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWait\u2026 Is that my bathrobe?\u201d I asked, eyeing the pink monstrosity that barely covered his chest, let alone anything else.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYep. And I\u2019m not wearing much underneath, so let\u2019s hope this works.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou\u2019re enjoying this way too much, Connor!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou bet I am. Now shh\u2026 your creepy ex should be here any minute.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
At precisely 7:11 p.m., my phone buzzed. I pulled up the camera feed to see Josh tiptoeing up my front walk, toothpick in hand like a tiny wooden dagger.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Connor grabbed a wrench from his toolbox and positioned himself by the door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWait for it,\u201d he whispered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Josh reached for the lock, toothpick poised\u2026 and Connor flung the door open.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I peered through the crack in the curtains, watching as Josh\u2019s face transformed from focused concentration to absolute horror.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou must be the toothpick fairy!\u201d Connor said, stepping onto the porch. The bathrobe gaped open, revealing far more tattooed torso than a PG-13 movie would allow. \u201cGot a message for you from the lady of the house, pal.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Josh\u2019s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Then he turned and ran\u2026 full sprint down the driveway, arms pumping like he was qualifying for the Olympics.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I burst out the door behind Connor. \u201cJOSH! STOP!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Miracle of miracles, he actually did. He turned around, pale as a ghost, hands raised like I was pointing a gun instead of just my finger.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWHY? Why mess with my lock?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI just\u2026 I thought maybe you\u2019d call me for help. If you couldn\u2019t get in, you\u2019d need someone, and I\u2019d be right there. Then maybe we could talk and\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSo you sabotaged my lock\u2026 to play hero?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIt sounds dumb when you say it like that, Reggie.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThat\u2019s because IT IS dumb!\u201d Connor interjected.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Josh looked like someone had deflated him. \u201cI messed up, okay? I thought if I could just help you again\u2026 you\u2019d remember the good times.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThe good times?\u201d I laughed. \u201cYou mean before or after you were taking Amber to Vincenzo\u2019s while telling me you were seeing a therapist?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIt was a mistake. I\u2019ve been trying to tell you that for months.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYeah, well,\u201d Connor said, flexing unnecessarily, \u201cmission failed, buddy. Leave before I call the cops.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Josh turned and slunk off into the night, his shoulders hunched like a scolded child.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Connor closed the door behind us, grinning. \u201cThat was fun.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But I wasn\u2019t done.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat are you doing?\u201d Connor asked the next morning, peering over my shoulder at my phone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cCreating a TikTok account,\u201d I said, uploading the video footage.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSavage! I didn\u2019t know you had it in you, Reggie.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThere\u2019s a lot you don\u2019t know about me,\u201d I replied, typing out a caption: \u201cMy ex keeps jamming my door lock with toothpicks. Here\u2019s what happened when we introduced him to my new man. \u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNew man, huh?\u201d Connor raised an eyebrow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cArtistic license,\u201d I said, hitting post. \u201cFor dramatic effect.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Two days later, the video had 2.1 million views and counting. Josh sent me a rambling email about privacy and how I\u2019d ruined his life. I didn\u2019t respond.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Instead, I forwarded the video to his boss\u2014who happened to be Amber\u2019s father. Turns out Amber didn\u2019t know about me either. The plot thickened, then quickly thinned again when Josh was suddenly \u201cpursuing other opportunities\u201d according to the company website.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Two weeks later, Danny helped me change my locks\u2026 not because I needed to, but because it felt symbolic like closing a chapter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou know,\u201d he said, tightening the final screw, \u201cyou could have just called the police.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAnd miss all this?\u201d I gestured vaguely at the chaos of the past week. \u201cWhere\u2019s the fun in that?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That afternoon, Connor brought over pizza and coke to celebrate what he called \u201cThe Great Toothpick Revenge.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cTo small victories,\u201d he said, clinking his can against mine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAnd to idiots who think tampering with locks is a good flirting strategy!\u201d I added.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou know,\u201d Connor said, leaning back on my couch, \u201cI\u2019m still waiting for my cut of the TikTok fame.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHow about I don\u2019t tell anyone you wore my bathrobe? That\u2019s payment enough.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He grinned. \u201cDeal!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My phone buzzed with another notification. The video had just hit three million views.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Turns out revenge doesn\u2019t always need a sledgehammer\u2026 sometimes a toothpick and a viral post work just fine.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
After 14 hours of bedpans, vomit, and a guy who insisted his \u201cfriend\u201d was the one who \u201caccidentally\u201d sat on a remote control, I dragged my scrub-wearing, caffeine-depleted body home. All I…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":5447,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-5423","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-interesting-stories"],"yoast_head":"\n