I don’t want to give too much away, but all I can say is that this person’s brother got what was coming to him…

In a major way!

Check out what went down in this story from Reddit!

My brother ransacked my room. I cost him a job, prevented him from sleeping, and jacked up his phone bill.

“It’s 2010, I had just turned 18 and spent a long summer week away from home enjoying my new freedom to come and go from my parents’ house as I pleased.

During the week I crashed at friends’ houses, went camping with other friends, video games, and all the cigarettes and tobacco products and snacks me and my friends could afford.

This guy was a piece of work…

My drug addicted brother (27), I’ll be referring to him as Mack, who thought he was going to make it big in the music scene because of of all the different drugs he was willing to do.

He thought being on acid made him play as well as Jimi Hendrix because Hendrix did acid.

This is relevant because in one of his many drug induced rampages, Mack was convinced his USB microphone was in my room.

So Mack knocks on the door while I’m away, convinces my dad that he was recording in my room and left it in there.

It was never in there. He was never there.

My dad was so wrapped around Mack’s manipulative finger that he never questioned anything he did.

I kept careful inventory of my room because my parents and siblings would steal from me all the time and try to use my bedroom as a storage room for all sorts of things.

Thinking back, his excuse was likely just to steal from me like the rest of my family did.

Hmmm…

Mack goes into my room, tosses the place like out of movie scene during one of his notorious benders. He flips the mattress.

Empties out every dresser drawer onto the floor.

Nothing was left the way I had left it.

After all was said and done I had to spend 3 days cleaning and reorganizing my room because of how badly this tweaker destroyed everything of mine.

Things were broken, clothes everywhere, bins and boxes dumped on the floor. It was like a tornado had rampaged through a trailer park in Iowa.

My dad had heard all of this going on and did nothing.

This was a ridiculous situation.

I showed my dad the mess. Dad just shrugs at me and says “He’s in his 20s, what do you expect me to do?”

“How about stop his strung out *** from tossing the place? How about at least calling him to have him clean up his mess?” I replied.

He practically ignored me and before walking off says “He was looking for his microphone and you need to just deal with it.” Going to my mom was no different.

Mom was so terrorized by him that she wanted no part of anything involving him because she felt unsafe. I can’t blame her.

He became aggressive when challenged on anything he did wrong.

It was time to deal with this joker.

Realizing nothing was going to be done by my parents and this was no matter to call the police over since Dad let him in the house, I did exactly what my dad said and dealt with it.

I tried to be ‘diplomatic’ at first and asked him to come clean up my room.

He laughs, makes fun of me, then says “I needed my microphone.” I asked if he found it, I know he didn’t because I knew where it was.

Over in my dad’s garage.

He never answered. I scooped up the microphone to hide it even better.

Stuffed into the rafters of an old shed on the outskirts of the property, inside of a large PVC pipe stacked up with other pipes.

It’s where he went to smoke his drugs sometimes so I knew he wouldn’t be looking for it there due to the paranoia of being caught by any of us.

I gave Mack one final warning text to ‘Clean it up or else’. He again made fun of me, “Crybaby! How difficult is it to clean your own room? You’re just a lazy piece of ****!”

The last one really torqued me because he was a thief and did everything he could to get out of work.

Later that night I decided to do my best Tom Petty impression.

I leave my parents’ house to sit around a campfire at a friend’s house. I waited until I left because then Mack couldn’t find me, neither could my dad.

I knew my dad was going to simp for him and defend him yet again.

I waited until Mack would’ve been nice and comfortable at home. I lit my first cigarette of the night and promised myself that nothing would stop my ensuing plan until I smoked the whole pack.

It was time to have some fun.

I had recently learned how to SMS bomb. At the time, you could add the same contact into your SMS app multiple times for a group chat.

I believe it was up to 30 on the phone I had.

For every one SMS/MMS I sent him, he received 30 in total. I spent hours sending messages to Mack. If I had a smoke in my mouth, I was text bombing him.

I spent from 9 pm until 4 am sending Mack thousands upon of thousands of text and picture messages.

I have now dropped a Hiroshima sized text bomb on the fancy Blackberry he was so proud of buying a week or two before this.

For anyone wondering, it was simply a copy and pasted text that said “This stops when my room is clean” and a picture of the mess he had made. I alternated back and fourth.

This took very little effort and left him inundated with notifications every 1-3 seconds.

This effectively DDoSed his phone into oblivion. It was locked up tighter than New York subway car.

He could not call, text, or even open anything on his phone other than my text messages.

Dad starts frantically calling me around 1 am. I ignored it. Then my mom calls me and leaves a voicemail for me to call him.

Worried it’s an emergency, I call dad back.

Funny how that works…

Dad picks up the phone, screaming at me “His phone is locked up and he can’t use it! You need to stop this RIGHT NOW!”

I replied “He needs to go and clean up the mess he made of my room RIGHT NOW or just deal with it like I have to.”

The argument continues for a while longer, the entire time he’s defending Mack tooth and nail.

Eventually I broke it to my dad that there was nothing I could do to stop the flow of messages and notifications.

He hung up and never brought it up again.

After the smoke had cleared (pun intended) I found out Mack had his Blackberry locked up for 10 days.

He wasn’t able to respond to a job offer and wasn’t smart enough to leave an alternate contact means.

Oops!

The job went to someone else by the time Mack was able to return their call. He was still going to be stuck at the job he loathed for a while longer.

His phone plan had a monthly SMS/MMS and data limit that I absolutely destroyed.

The month’s bill was over $300, I wanna say closer to $400.

His live-in girlfriend was also mad because they had to leave the phone on and plugged into a charger to let it process the messages from my mass messaging campaign the night before.

The notifications made the phone unusable and they were stuck listening to the notification sounds for those 10 days.

They tried stuffing it inside of a blanket but the phone would get too hot and they were worried it would start on fire.

On the counter, plugged in to an outlet it sat. Keeping them awake and annoyed constantly.

Another 2 months roll past, I finally decided he could have his microphone back… Kind of. I took it out of hiding and stuffed it in his keyboard box that was also stored at my parent’s house.

He found it there not too long after and never even apologized for what he did, not that I ever expected him to. He even bragged about finally finding it.

He never went into my room again without my permission out of fear of his phone being locked up again.”

Reddit users spoke up.

This person offered some advice.

Another reader weighed in.

This individual feels bad for them…

Another Reddit user spoke up.

And this person shared their thoughts.

That Blackberry was never the same…

RIP.

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