My stepdad, Jeff, loved playing the “man of the house.” He’d always remind us how lucky we were to have a roof over our heads, all because of him. It was like his favorite speech. But when his “special gift” for my mom’s birthday turned out to be a pack of toilet paper, my siblings and I decided we’d had enough. That toilet paper did end up being useful—just not in the way Jeff thought.
Jeff had been in our lives for as long as I could remember. Every dinner, he’d sit in his worn-out recliner and deliver his favorite speech: “You’re all lucky I’m here, keeping this house running.” Mom, Jane, would nod along, trying to keep the peace. She was a woman who hated arguments, a skill she’d learned from years of trying to avoid Jeff’s giant ego.
My siblings—Chloe, Lily, Anthony, and I—never bought into Jeff’s “king of the castle” act. Sure, he paid the bills, but his arrogance and the way he treated Mom made it hard to respect him. We tried to convince her to leave him, but she never did. Eventually, we all moved out.
Anthony lived on the other side of the country, but the rest of us stayed close, visiting Mom often to check on her. Even so, we couldn’t stop worrying about her.
Then, Jeff went too far. In the days leading up to Mom’s birthday, he couldn’t stop talking about the “special gift” he’d picked out for her. “This one’s going to blow her mind,” he said, grinning smugly during one of our visits. My sisters and I exchanged skeptical looks. Knowing Jeff, it was hard to imagine this gift being anything other than a bad joke.
When Mom’s birthday finally arrived, we all gathered in the living room, ready to celebrate. Jeff, looking unusually pleased with himself, handed her a large, beautifully wrapped box. “Go on,” he urged. “Open it!”
Mom’s face lit up with cautious excitement as she untied the ribbon and peeled back the paper. But when she saw what was inside, her smile vanished. It was a 12-pack of toilet paper. Four-ply. Jumbo rolls. “It’s soft, just like you!” Jeff declared, slapping his knee and laughing. “And look—four-ply, one for each of your kids.
Perfect, right?” Mom let out a nervous laugh, but her eyes glistened with unshed tears. My sisters and I just stared, stunned. This wasn’t just a bad joke—it was cruel. This was supposed to be a day about celebrating her, but Jeff had turned it into a mockery. That was when we decided enough was enough. Jeff’s reign as “king of the castle” was over.
Two days later, we set our plan into motion. Knowing Jeff couldn’t resist free food, we invited him to his favorite Chinese restaurant for a “family dinner.” Chloe, the youngest and most mischievous of us, came up with the idea. “We’ll set the stage at his happy place,” she said, grinning. “He’ll never see it coming.”
Jeff arrived, puffing out his chest, complaining about how it was “about time” someone else treated him. We exchanged sweet smiles, holding back our eye rolls as we sat down. The restaurant was bustling, the air rich with the smell of spices and sizzling dishes.
Chloe, playing innocent, started ordering: Szechuan beef, Kung Pao chicken, and the spiciest mapo tofu on the menu. Each dish was loaded with enough chili to make a grown man cry. “You can handle spicy, right, Jeff?” she asked, her voice dripping with fake concern. “Of course,” Jeff scoffed, puffing out his chest. “Nothing’s too spicy for a real man.”
The dishes arrived, steaming and fiery red, their smells rich and bold. Jeff dove in, determined to prove his “manliness.” At first, he exaggerated his enjoyment, letting out an over-the-top moan of satisfaction. But soon, his face turned redder than the lanterns hanging overhead. Sweat poured down his face as he chugged glass after glass of Coke.
“How’s it going?” Chloe asked sweetly, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Just clearing the sinuses,” Jeff grunted, his voice strained. We barely held back our laughter. This was just the beginning.
Meanwhile, back at the house, Mom and Lily were busy with a rented U-Haul and a team of movers. They packed up Mom’s things—her clothes, keepsakes, and her favorite chair. Chloe had insisted they take everything she’d ever bought Jeff, including his beloved recliner. But the best part? Every single roll of toilet paper in the house.
When Jeff and I returned home, his stomach was already groaning ominously. He barely stepped inside before noticing something was off. “Where’s my recliner?” he barked, looking around the living room. “Gone,” Chloe replied casually. “Mom took what’s hers.”
Jeff spun around, his face turning beet red, but before he could say anything, his stomach let out a loud growl. He grabbed his stomach and rushed down the hallway, and we could hear the bathroom door slam shut.
“WHERE’S THE TOILET PAPER?!” Jeff screamed from behind the door. We couldn’t hold it in any longer. Laughter burst out as we stood in the hallway. “Mom took that too!” I yelled. “After all, it’s hers!” From behind the door, we heard Jeff groan in agony. “You can’t leave me like this!” he shouted.
Mom walked calmly into the hallway, her voice steady and firm. “Watch me,” she said. “I’m leaving you, Jeff. I’m taking my things—and my dignity.”
For days after that, Jeff bombarded Mom with endless phone calls, leaving voicemails filled with fake apologies. But Mom didn’t answer. Instead, Chloe came up with a brilliant idea. On Jeff’s birthday, we sent him a carefully wrapped gift: a jumbo pack of toilet paper, with a handwritten note: For a real man.
Mom moved in with Lily while she figured out her next steps. Anthony, hearing about the prank, called us to tell us how proud he was of us. Jeff, on the other hand, is still complaining to anyone who’ll listen. But for the first time, Mom is free—and we couldn’t be happier.
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