adjusterjack
Super Moderator
- Jurisdiction
- US Federal Law
This story appeared over on Reddit. Written by user name General-Hunter1753, which is about as close as I can come to crediting the story. Anyway, I got a good laugh out of it. Hope you do too.
_________________
I am a PhD candidate in Mycology (the study of fungi). I speak 5 languages fluently, including Latin and Mandarin. However, I also suffer from acute Selective Mutism triggered by confrontation. Essentially, I can defend a 300-page dissertation in front of an academic board, but if a middle-aged woman yells at me on my own porch, I physically lose the ability to speak English. I am using ChatGPT to help me write this because my hands are still shaking too much to type without typos.
The Cast To protect everyone's privacy, I have changed their names. Then I got paranoid that the first fake names were too obvious, so I changed them a second time.
Me: I am a 32-year-old doctoral candidate specializing in Bryophyte Aggression Dynamics (Moss warfare). I have self-diagnosed misophonia and crippling social anxiety that prevents me from confrontation, but allows me to plot complex revenge fantasies for 12 hours a day. I am basically a weaponized introvert.
My Wife: Her real name is Sarah. I changed it to Jessica to be safe. But I have an ex named Jessica, so let's call her Balthazar. Balthazar is a saint who bakes artisanal sourdough bread for orphans and is the only reason I am not currently living in a cave. She tries to keep me grounded, but she knows that once I enter "The Zone," there is no stopping me.
The HOA President: Her real name is Karen (ironic, I know). I changed it to Susan. But Susan sounds too nice. Let's call her Dolores. Dolores is 65, drives a pristine white SUV that has never seen dirt, and measures grass height with a laser ruler. She has the energy of a woman who sues Girl Scouts for selling cookies without a permit.
The Lawyer Friend: His real name is Mike. I changed it to Dave. But Dave owes me money. Let's call him Thorn. Thorn is a high-powered litigator who specializes in Bird Law and Tree Law. He costs $800 an hour but works for me in exchange for Balthazar's sourdough starter. He is always awake, always angry, and always looking for a reason to sue a baby boomer.
The Cousin: His real name is Tim. I changed it to Bob. But Bob is too short. Let's call him Agent Smith. Agent Smith works for the Department of the Interior in the Endangered Micro-Flora division. This is a very real and very serious government department, I promise. He has a badge and a deep hatred for suburban development.
The Background I live in a neighborhood that is technically a "community," but practically a war zone. I have 16 Ring cameras and a parabolic microphone installed on my roof. Not because I'm paranoid, but because I need 4K footage of the squirrels for my research. But they also happen to cover Dolores's entire property line. I keep my head down. Last Tuesday, I had a panic attack because the doorbell rang, so I didn't bring my trash can in until 6:01 PM. The limit is 6:00 PM.
The Incident The next morning, Dolores was on my porch. My anxiety spiked to level 10. I opened the door, shaking. She handed me a $50 fine and said, "Rules are rules, sweetie. Maybe if you spent less time staring at moss and more time looking at a clock, you'd know that." She displayed classic signs of Narcissistic Personality Disorder with a side of Main Character Syndrome. I recognized the behavior immediately from a subreddit I doom-scroll at 4 AM.
I didn't say anything because my throat closed up. I just nodded. However, I pulled out my phone and recorded the interaction. Note: I live in a One-Party Consent state, so this recording is completely legal and admissible in court, which is important later.
She smirked—that specific smirk that says "I own you"—and walked away. I didn't sleep that night. I plotted.
The Revenge I remembered that Dolores had recently re-paved her driveway. It was pristine asphalt. But, being a Moss Doctor, I noticed it had high porosity—perfect for colonization.
I went to my lab (the basement) and retrieved a cryo-frozen sample of Lichenous Federale Maximus. This is an extremely rare, extremely endangered form of slime-moss that is federally protected under the "Migratory Spore Act of 1996."
At 3:00 AM, dressed in full tactical gear (Amazon basics), I army-crawled across the street. I sprayed her entire driveway with a nutrient-dense slurry containing the spores.
The Climax Three days later, the moss bloomed. Her driveway was covered in a thick, pulsating green sludge. It was beautiful.
I saw Dolores outside screaming. She had a pressure washer hooked up.
This was the moment. I texted Thorn (The Lawyer) and Agent Smith (The Cousin). They were waiting in a van around the corner.
As soon as she pulled the trigger on the pressure washer, Thorn jumped out of the bushes in a bespoke suit. "STOP!" he screamed. "You are about to commit a Class C Felony under the Environmental Protection Act!"
Dolores froze. "Who are you?"
"I represent the moss," Thorn said. He handed her a cease and desist letter. Then Agent Smith stepped up, flashed his badge, and took a sample.
"Confirmed," Smith said, looking at a device that wasn't turned on. "This is Lichenous Federale Maximus. Ma'am, this driveway is now a designated wetland sanctuary."
The Fallout It has been two weeks.
_________________
I am a PhD candidate in Mycology (the study of fungi). I speak 5 languages fluently, including Latin and Mandarin. However, I also suffer from acute Selective Mutism triggered by confrontation. Essentially, I can defend a 300-page dissertation in front of an academic board, but if a middle-aged woman yells at me on my own porch, I physically lose the ability to speak English. I am using ChatGPT to help me write this because my hands are still shaking too much to type without typos.
The Cast To protect everyone's privacy, I have changed their names. Then I got paranoid that the first fake names were too obvious, so I changed them a second time.
Me: I am a 32-year-old doctoral candidate specializing in Bryophyte Aggression Dynamics (Moss warfare). I have self-diagnosed misophonia and crippling social anxiety that prevents me from confrontation, but allows me to plot complex revenge fantasies for 12 hours a day. I am basically a weaponized introvert.
My Wife: Her real name is Sarah. I changed it to Jessica to be safe. But I have an ex named Jessica, so let's call her Balthazar. Balthazar is a saint who bakes artisanal sourdough bread for orphans and is the only reason I am not currently living in a cave. She tries to keep me grounded, but she knows that once I enter "The Zone," there is no stopping me.
The HOA President: Her real name is Karen (ironic, I know). I changed it to Susan. But Susan sounds too nice. Let's call her Dolores. Dolores is 65, drives a pristine white SUV that has never seen dirt, and measures grass height with a laser ruler. She has the energy of a woman who sues Girl Scouts for selling cookies without a permit.
The Lawyer Friend: His real name is Mike. I changed it to Dave. But Dave owes me money. Let's call him Thorn. Thorn is a high-powered litigator who specializes in Bird Law and Tree Law. He costs $800 an hour but works for me in exchange for Balthazar's sourdough starter. He is always awake, always angry, and always looking for a reason to sue a baby boomer.
The Cousin: His real name is Tim. I changed it to Bob. But Bob is too short. Let's call him Agent Smith. Agent Smith works for the Department of the Interior in the Endangered Micro-Flora division. This is a very real and very serious government department, I promise. He has a badge and a deep hatred for suburban development.
The Background I live in a neighborhood that is technically a "community," but practically a war zone. I have 16 Ring cameras and a parabolic microphone installed on my roof. Not because I'm paranoid, but because I need 4K footage of the squirrels for my research. But they also happen to cover Dolores's entire property line. I keep my head down. Last Tuesday, I had a panic attack because the doorbell rang, so I didn't bring my trash can in until 6:01 PM. The limit is 6:00 PM.
The Incident The next morning, Dolores was on my porch. My anxiety spiked to level 10. I opened the door, shaking. She handed me a $50 fine and said, "Rules are rules, sweetie. Maybe if you spent less time staring at moss and more time looking at a clock, you'd know that." She displayed classic signs of Narcissistic Personality Disorder with a side of Main Character Syndrome. I recognized the behavior immediately from a subreddit I doom-scroll at 4 AM.
I didn't say anything because my throat closed up. I just nodded. However, I pulled out my phone and recorded the interaction. Note: I live in a One-Party Consent state, so this recording is completely legal and admissible in court, which is important later.
She smirked—that specific smirk that says "I own you"—and walked away. I didn't sleep that night. I plotted.
The Revenge I remembered that Dolores had recently re-paved her driveway. It was pristine asphalt. But, being a Moss Doctor, I noticed it had high porosity—perfect for colonization.
I went to my lab (the basement) and retrieved a cryo-frozen sample of Lichenous Federale Maximus. This is an extremely rare, extremely endangered form of slime-moss that is federally protected under the "Migratory Spore Act of 1996."
At 3:00 AM, dressed in full tactical gear (Amazon basics), I army-crawled across the street. I sprayed her entire driveway with a nutrient-dense slurry containing the spores.
The Climax Three days later, the moss bloomed. Her driveway was covered in a thick, pulsating green sludge. It was beautiful.
I saw Dolores outside screaming. She had a pressure washer hooked up.
This was the moment. I texted Thorn (The Lawyer) and Agent Smith (The Cousin). They were waiting in a van around the corner.
As soon as she pulled the trigger on the pressure washer, Thorn jumped out of the bushes in a bespoke suit. "STOP!" he screamed. "You are about to commit a Class C Felony under the Environmental Protection Act!"
Dolores froze. "Who are you?"
"I represent the moss," Thorn said. He handed her a cease and desist letter. Then Agent Smith stepped up, flashed his badge, and took a sample.
"Confirmed," Smith said, looking at a device that wasn't turned on. "This is Lichenous Federale Maximus. Ma'am, this driveway is now a designated wetland sanctuary."
The Fallout It has been two weeks.
- Dolores is legally prohibited from disturbing the moss. She cannot drive on her driveway. She cannot walk on it.
- She has to park her white SUV three blocks away in the guest lot.
- Because of the "Wetland Designation," her property value has plummeted, but the local frog population is thriving.
- I sit on my porch with Balthazar, eating sourdough, watching Dolores trudge through the rain to get to her car.
