My last roommate wasn’t as bad as most of these, but I did get decent revenge.
Shortly after high school, my roommate and I decided that parents blew so we’d get an apartment. He found us a house. Excellent I thought, the rent was cheaper than most apartments and we don’t have to put up with our neighbors being on the other side of the wall.
He and I both worked at the same place and went to the same college. Though we rarely saw each other. After a while, of course, the relationship grew sour. He had a fetish for police encounters. We were playing paintball near the river where we lived. He thought it a good idea to shoot a police car. Well being that I was better camouflaged, and had some experience hiding (hunting), I found a well covered spot and hung out there, I knew he would run and that would draw the “Fuzz” away from me, I let him go. He got away from them by swimming across a river just down-stream from a sewage treatment plant and hiding in a junkyard. I have no idea how he got away, as he had to keep shooting a junk yard dog to keep it off him. After the police gave up, I searched him out, shot him in the calf muscle from 6 feet away and helped him hobble back home.
1:30 AM on a Saturday night:
The police came looking for me (don’t ask) and he let them in the house and he decided it would be fun to let them in and see what they would do to me (again, his affinity for encounters with the authorities). Much to his dismay, and previously unbeknownst to him, the officer that showed up was a personal friend of mine that played in the same hockey league as me. He was disappointed.
He had a tendency to ignore his girlfriend. She was a friend of mine as well as my sister, so she would talk to me instead of his cranky bitch ass. He used to brag on how he got to see her boobs, which I doubt actually ever occurred.
He had a couple of cats. Cats are usually easy to potty train, but when you don’t change their litter, they tend to do as they please, where they please. This occurred frequently on my couch or in the laundry room. After a period of caring for the cats myself, I decided to let them use his piles of dirty clothing for relief. I stopped doing my laundry there as it began to develop a smell something akin to ammonia. I don’t know what chemical reactions occur when urine is cooked in a sunbathed room, but I’m sure you could clean windows or strip paint with it.
Like other roommates, he routinely ate my food, used my dishes and such. He would never clean the microwave that I purchased and kept in my bedroom. I removed it. I didn’t like stale over-cooked cheddar stench in my sleeping quarters.
Vengeance is mine sayeth the roommate. The final straw was when he bought a brand new car. I finally figured it out. No person paying for college and rent can buy a brand new Saturn on $8.50/hr with only a $500 down payment and no savings. I did a little investigating and found that his parents owned the house we were living in. I went directly there, brought a friend, packed my shit up and left. I took all of my dishes, which he had dirtied, along with his. I took the outside and had my friend shoot them from a small clay pigeon thrower and shot skeet with his dishes until he returned home. He said that what I was doing wasn’t very cool. I responded with my shotgun in hand, fully loaded “Good? Bad? I'm the guy with the gun.”
The only roommate I have had since, I married. My former roommate is in the business of dating underage girls and stalking the above mention, and now ex-girlfriend when he is in town.