rSlash - r/Nuclearrevenge I Broke a Man's Skull

Episode Date: October 8, 2025

0:00 Intro 0:07 Grandma 4:49 Awful person 10:32 Bike Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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Our next Reddit post is from Remote Sylvob. I was visiting my grandma and grandpa to celebrate a bunch of summer birthdays together, but when I pulled up to their house, the plot to the right was completely empty. As in, no stones, no base, no debris, just slightly overgrown grass. Grass where there used to be a house. When the hellos were said and the party started, I absolutely had to know what happened. So I went to ask my grandparents, and goodness gracious, I was not expecting the roller coaster of a story they told me. A couple of years ago, my grandparents had some very unpleasant neighbors.

Loud at all hours, trash in the yard, arguing with other people on the street, just absolute nuisances. It was a husband and wife and their adult son who would come and go irregularly. The wife would get into arguments with anyone about anything, and the husband would physically intimidate the people who spoke up for themselves. My grandparents weren't sure what exactly was the deal with the son, but it couldn't have been anything good, as it was well known that he had been in county jail more than a few times. The house apparently reflected the tenants, as it looked awful.

It was sagging and dilapidated, loose beams and peeling paint, but nothing was ever done about it due to the guy who rented out the place being a slum lord. We'll get to him later. It all came to a breaking point one night when my grandparents returned home to find their back door smashed in and some of my grandpa's guitar is missing. Now, Grandpa loves his music, and he's been singing and playing his whole life. So it's safe to say that those guitars are not only very memorable to him, but damned expensive too. They, of course, went to the police, and after some digging, they found that the guitars had been sold at a pawn shop or someplace by the sun. They couldn't get the guitars back, unfortunately, but I believe my grandparents were fairly compensated

since the guitars were insured. Given how expensive the guitars were, the theft was absolutely a felony, and the son, once again, ended up in jail. After that, the neighbors would harass my grandparents through the fence or on their porch, meaning it was difficult for them to even sit outside. They would call them foul names, throw trash over the fence, and the husband would still try to get physical. Now, while my grandpa is a very chill and mellow guy, my grandma won't take flack from anyone, especially not jerks like these. So, what did she do?

She got the house condemned. It was easy for her to do, really. She called the local authorities, like the general attorney or the property manager, I don't know, and they came a didn't inspection, though it was clear by the outside of the house that it hadn't been properly maintained for a long time. One call led to more calls,

and the property was deemed unfit to live in, which forced the rude neighbors to move out. I'm not sure what happened to them or where they went, but supposedly they were put up in a nearby hotel by the slum lord until the house could be fixed. Now enter the slum lord. Of course, his tenants told him who had reported the house, so of course he's upset with my grandparents. Rather than fix the house, though, he gets aggressive the first day he's there, yelling at my grandparents about how they're idiots for reporting him and how they've cost him a bunch of money, and he's going to sue them and on and on. It gets to the point where the across-the-street neighbors called the local police to come defuse a situation, which they do. A few weeks pass,

and my grandma hasn't seen the slum lord or anyone around to fix the house. Not being one to let things go easily, grandma starts making frequent calls to a bunch of services, reporting the house and its lack of progress. Each time, the slumlord's truck would appear for a day, and then leave without changing a thing. Finally, my grandma had complained enough that officials came out and condemned the house for demolition. This had two major effects. First, the rude neighbors were now practically homeless, since as soon as they and the slum lord ran out of money to pay for the hotel, they'd be stranded. Second, the slum lord still had to pay a ton of fines for the state of the house. The rest is more his fault than my grandma's actions, but he would refuse to pay and refuse to show up in

court, leading to a warrant being put out for his arrest. A few months ago, the demolition teams came and tore down the place, leaving the lot perfectly barren. They even removed the driveway, so now it looks like an extension of the side yard. My grandparents weren't sure of the final state of the neighbors and slumlord, but my grandma looked very pleased with herself as she finished the story. I love her so much. Our next Reddit post is from same thing else. In my country, high school starts at the age of 15 and last three years. I was a year early, so I was 14. During the first weeks of school, a guy in my class, Connor, approached me and we started getting along to the point that we quickly started dating. Little did I know, Connor would become my worst nightmare

for the next three years. He was 17 when we met, and just like a lot of guys this age, he was obsessed with doing it. He pressured me into having my first time with him, and he broke up with me right after I eventually gave in. After that, none of our next intercourses were consensual. He was very manipulative and gaslit me into believing I wanted everything that was happening to me. It took me a while to understand what he was actually doing. In fact, I only got it after hooking up with another person at the age of 17. Before it finally hit me, he had his way with me more than 50 times. During our second year of high school, he made the mistake of forcing himself violently on my best friend. She ended up getting an abortion because of him, and I started

plotting my revenge. Originally, it was supposed to avenge her, but it ended up working for me as well. I noticed that not only he would only approach the first years, even if he was 20 when I graduated, but he would also target the youngest girls among them too. He kept telling me how much much more attractive I was at 14 than 17. So knowing that it was pointless to tell the police because in my country only 0.4% of all complaints of R word, where victims are less than 15 end up in a sentence. I ruined his reputation instead. I told every single one of his acquaintances that he was an R-wordist. And to protect my best friend, I told everyone I was the one that he had violated, which wasn't really a lie. The rumor spread like wildfire.

and after a few days, even the teachers were looking at him with disgust. He was isolated, and the only reason why he wasn't bullied was because he was like six foot three. I could have stopped there, but I didn't. When we were in our third year, I knew exactly which universities he applied for. By snooping in Conner's bag, I found his application numbers. So, using those, I contacted every single university he applied for and explained the situation, providing screenshots of his conversation with my best friend where he was threatening her with a defamation case if she attempted to press charges against him. All of them thanked me, and he ended up not being able to get into any university.

He had to repeat his third year because of that, in an establishment where everyone knew what he had done, and all the first years would know that they had to avoid him at all costs. The next year, since I wasn't there to foil his applications, Connor was accepted into a university that I hadn't contacted the previous year. Unfortunately for him, I ended up learning which university he was going into and repeated the same process. There were former students of our high school in the university he was going to, who spoke up to the university's mental health center about the inappropriate behavior he had with them and told them what kind of rumors there were against him.

Since I'd provided proof that the rumors were true, Connor was permanently expelled for the safety of the female students attending that university. So now he doesn't have a degree and nowhere else to go study, with no social life. His situation couldn't get worse. Could it? Well, yes, I made it worse. Connor tried to move to another region where no one would know him and gain a diploma to work with kids. However, Connor is a phone addict and couldn't help but share on social media that he had gained his diploma and started working as an educator for troubled kids and pre-teens. Little did he know, I had created an account pretending to be one of his only remaining high school

acquaintances, who I knew was chronically offline. With a bit of searching, I ended up finding his workplace and started the same process all over again. I also added a message he had left on my voicemail, where he was panting while telling me how hot I was at the age of 14, and how he would have loved to go back in time, just to do me again. Needless to say, they got rid of him really quickly, fearing for the safety of the kids. I was planning on continuing to report him to all the places he was planning to work at, but his previous workplace took care of that for me. I don't know how, but according to Connor's social media, they managed to get him blacklisted on a national level, technically invalidating

his diploma. Due to this, he couldn't pay rent anymore and ended up being homeless for a while before his mother accepted him back in. I'm friends with his older sister who knows everything about it and told the rest of the family what happened. From what she's told me, everyone cut off ties with Connor and his mother, including her. I still occasionally stalk his social media to see if he's trying to get back on his feet. The last time I checked was today, right before writing all this.

So, forcing yourself on two people ended up isolating him both socially and from his family. And as long as I'm alive, he has no chance of ever getting a girlfriend. He lives in the region where he spent his high school years, so no one would hire him even as a cleaner. And he even spent some nights on the street. Honestly, at this point, it's impressive that no one's tried to harm him physically, make him go through what he made me and my best friend go through, or even end his life.

Go to hell, Connor. And trust me when I tell you that you'll have to wait for me to die before even thinking about starting to have a normal life. Our next Reddit post is from No Way. This story took place in the summer of 1969 when I was about 12. I had an early morning paper route in my neighborhood. One of the first things that I bought with my earnings was a brand new 10-speed bike. It was silver with red trim.

I was really proud of it, and I took very good care of it. I also used it to deliver my newspapers in the morning. One of my customers was often leaving for work around the time that I got there. I always made a point of parking my bike well off to the side while I went up to deliver his paper. That particular morning, he turned too soon and too sharply while backing out of his driveway and backed right over my bike, ruining the front sprocket and derailer. He stuck his head out the window and asked, is it okay? Not exactly, I said. Well, that's what you get for leaving it behind my car. Then he drove off. I walked at home, crushed and upset. I felt helpless

against this adult who clearly had no intention of doing anything about it, and I didn't know what to do. My hurt, frustration, and powerlessness gradually turned to anger. I stopped delivering his paper, and when he complained, I told my supervisor that I was delivering, but he just liked to complain. So ultimately, it wasn't held against me. But the real revenge was yet to come. He lived on the main route through the neighborhood that all the kids took to go to the local 7-Eleven and other places. His mailbox, sat on a steel fence post loosely set into the ground. That summer, I got into the habit of pulling it up and throwing it over the fence into the cemetery across the street, maybe once or twice a week.

It was fun and mischievous, but it still didn't satisfy my need for revenge. He had three large frond shrubs in his front yard that would grow to six or eight feet over the course of the summer and then began to die back. They were several feet apart, with nothing else closed by. One August evening, I threw a lit match into one on my way home from the 7-Eleven. I never heard anything else, but on my route the next morning, it was just a burnt husk in his front yard. Over the next couple of weeks, I did the same to the other two. I was beginning to feel satisfied. But one morning, on the way home from delivering papers, I had an inspiration. I saw that the side window of his garage was open. Now, I knew that what I was considering was taking it a bit far, but I was an

impulsive kid, and I thought tit for tat was fair. Back in the day, everyone carried road flares, as in emergency flares for their cars. So I climbed through the window, found two flares, lit them, and stuck one right under and behind each of his rare tires, then climbed out and high-tailed at home and went back to bed. I didn't go back to see what happened, and I stayed away from the area for several days. I knew that I'd ruined his tires. I never saw the result, but I didn't care, and I had never did another thing to him. Down in the comments, we have this story from Internet Hugs. This reminds me of a story my grandpa once told me.

He was telling me about how him and his brothers used to steal watermelons from a neighboring farmer. They lived across the river from him, so they would float the watermelons and push them as they swam. Apparently, the farmer was not pleased with a bunch of little redneck butthole stealing his watermelons, so he would shoot at them with a shotgun. My grandpa said he was so upset when the watermelon he was pushing exploded right in front of him. But it all turned out all right because him and his brothers burned down the farmer's shed.

Why does it seem like arson was the first response of all the kids back in the 70s? That was our slash nuclear revenge. And if you like this content, be sure to follow my podcast because I put out new Reddit podcast episodes every single day.