rSlash - r/Nuclearrevenge I Drove Nails into His "Hotdog"

Episode Date: August 7, 2025

0:00 Intro 0:08 Hammer and nails 3:14 Lost it all Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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My grandfather fought in World War II. He was part of a platoon that freed one of the concentration camps. He ended up working for my country's intelligence agencies for many years. In what capacity he never said, but I imagine it was some shady stuff. When we were in high school, my brother got caught groping one of the girls. But this was the 60s, and all he got was a slap on the wrist. He was 15, I was 14. He would brag about it to his friends.

To be fair, I also didn't see what the problem was at the time. Well, my mom didn't like that and told Grandpa. Grandpa had my brother and I over for dinner that night, just the three of us. Before Grandpa did anything, he asked if what he heard was true. But he asked it in such a jovial, almost proud way. My brother was all too proud of himself. Grandpa got out a hammer and three roofing nails. Then he told us a story that I will never forget.

So in World War II, Grandpa was part of a platoon that liberated a camp. One of the head honchos at this camp was still there. By this time, they had all seen or heard of the camps and what was being done to people there. During a sweep of the camp, my grandpa came across the head honcho's room. In this room was a child, badly beaten, naked, in chains, with a somewhat enlarged abdomen. It was obvious what had happened to her. My grandpa and his squadmates got a hold of the honcho, stripped him, and tied him to a wooden chair. Grandpa then asked everyone else to leave, to not let anyone down the corridor no matter what was heard.

My grandfather sat in front of this guy and stared at him for a good half an hour, never said a word to him. Then he took a hammer and three long nails, hammered one nail in each testicle and the third threw his dick and into the chair. He had to do this slowly and methodically to avoid making the testicles explode, or so he said. Grandpa left the room, leaving this guy bound and gagged. Grandpa then barred the door from the outside. His squad did as they were told, never went in the room. They all left together. Grandpa doesn't know if the guy survived or was found. Grandpa told this story, not with glee or sorrow, but with a very cold tone. He then spoke to us and said something along the lines of,

Monsters attract other monsters and tend to get what they deserve. Are you going to be monsters? My brother and I said, no, of course. We were terrified. Grandpa then drove one of the nails into the table, as if to drive the point home. See that you don't. Now go home. Grandpa never mentioned that story again, nor did he ever speak in such a cold way to us again. It was as if he had never told us anything. My brother actually apologized to the girl in question.

We both live pretty normal lives nowadays. Grandpa passed away some years back. We'll never forget him. Our next Reddit post is from Big Bad Beef. While I was in college, I made an inquiry about changing careers, and a state-sponsored program came out that let me become a welder for free. After completing the welding courses, I was quickly offered a job as a field worker. We're literally talking about a matter of days here, a refreshing change of pace from before

where it took months or more. This is where the subject of our story comes in. Rat Boss. Rat Boss ran a small field welding business with a six-man crew, traveling all over Europe doing field welding. He said that he would take me in, show me the ropes, teach me real welding, none of that school yard stuff. And let me tell you, the first six years were amazing. Yeah, there was hard work. Dawn till dusk seven days a week, sometimes gone from home for over a month. But the travel, the adventure, the camaraderie. We were complete strangers to each other in the start, but we became like brothers sticking together through thick and thin. Thinking back on it, I miss those days, even if they're behind me. And Rat Boss was back at that time, the kind of boss that puts all other bosses to

shame. I remember that one time where he took out a loan with a large interest just so that he could pay us our wages because he had an emergency expense that drained his account two weeks before customer was due payment. He would rather go into debt to pay us on time rather than ask if we could hang in there a couple of weeks. But everything changed by year seven. At that time, most of the court crew had left, missing their families too much to keep going. So did Rat Boss. He set me up as a foreman while he found himself work back home, and he sent people he interviewed over my way as I needed them. It didn't start off so bad at first, several jobs done successfully, but the people that worked with me, it just wasn't the same. They were all short-term workers, there to make a quick

buck, or settle some debts, or gain some experience to find better paid work back home. But then the pandemic struck, and I had to sit it out. It wasn't a big deal for me, since I was used to having cash reserves for rainy days from my teen years. But what came after is where things started to go seriously wrong. Nobody decent wanted to work abroad anymore. So the people that came to work with me were those that rap boss might have proverbially fished out of the sewers. Drunkards, thieves, drug addicts, destitutes, the kinds with nothing to lose and no will to do a good job. It all went downhill rather quickly. As the foreman, I made sure the job got done regardless and that the work was signed off, so the bill would get sent and wages paid. But there were constant incidents

outside of work, incidents unique to this demographic that worked with me. To top it all off, wages started coming late, travel costs weren't being refunded, and Rat Boss started doing some creative accounting when it came to the differences between everyone's net and gross wages. It all came to a boiling point when I received a phone call at 3 a.m. on the night that I was supposed to drive the boys back home in the morning. The customer called, and one of the boys had been arrested for drunken disorderly. He didn't have an ID on him, only the workplace identity card. So they phoned our customer in the middle of the night to help identify the foreman of that animal. So, yeah, I got called to pick him up. I ate a lot of trash that day. When I came back home, I had a good,

long sit-down with Rat Boss. I told him I was done with that BS, and that it was time to settle accounts. He sort of half-heartedly apologized. He also admitted he was having problems with his wife, who co-ran the business, and she was fighting with him over how the money was being spent. At that point, he owed me around a year's worth of travel expenses, and if you take into account that I traveled at least 2,000 miles monthly, that is a substantial sum of money. He apologetically asked me to wait a bit on that money, because his wife was cock-blocking him on any major expenditures.

He also asked me to stay on with him for just a few months on minimum wage, just until he could put a decent crew together. The idiot that I was accepted his proposal. There was no reason not to trust him. After all, we've known each other for almost seven years at that time. I didn't think that it was unreasonable to give him time to fix this. But I did have one condition, though. I needed half the money he owed me by the end of September because I was having some work done on my house. He said that shouldn't be a problem this far in advance.

I said, okay, we have a deal. But I remained suspicious. A couple of months went by. I worked for Ratboss locally on minimum wage. Except the problem is that even that minimum wage came in late. My hackles were raised. I was concerned that I would have to postpone work on my house, work for which craftsmen are so hard to come by.

You have to pay a deposit to prove you're serious about needing that work done. In the beginning of September, on the month his partial debt repayment was due, I confronted him again. He assured me that paying half of what he owed me for the travel costs wouldn't be a problem and that he's got the cash ready. As we parted ways and I went for home, he gave me the fakesest smile I've ever seen in my life. I stared him down. I gave him the kind of look that even a moron would recognize as having, I'm not fooling around anymore, written all over it. Rat Boss lost his fake smile almost immediately.

I said goodbye, got into my car, and drove home. That weekend, Rat Boss sent me a message about how he's got a crew lined up and that he's going abroad to talk with the potential customer to get his foot back in the fieldwork door. Alarm bell started instantly ringing. He's going to avoid me for the date that he was due to pay half his debt. He's going to screw me over. He was going to screw me over. That bastard!

After everything we've been through together. At that point, I decided if the money doesn't come in the due date, a 30-day resignation notice is going to wait for him when he gets back, filed on the exact day he was supposed to pay. But the thing is, when something has you this riled up, such as rat boss's probable betrayal, you kind of have a hard time focusing at work. So I slipped on a ramp.

I just didn't sprain my ankle or tear a ligament. I downright destroyed it. This happened about a week before his debt repayment was due. We're talking about emergency surgery here, two weeks minimum at the hospital, and I was unable to put proper weight on that foot for six months. What do you guys think happened to the money that he promised to pay me? It didn't come. Big surprise. Not only that, even my paycheck didn't get wired that month. It gets even worse. While I was in the hospital, heavily medicated, the work got done on my house. My mother, who had authorization to my account in case of emergency, used my savings to pay for the work on my house instead of canceling,

which means I had very little money left. She told me not to worry, I'll still get paid sick leave. I wasn't so sure. The thing about sick leave in my country is, in case of a work-related injury and a recovery period longer than a month, the employer is only required to pay the first month of sick leave. The rest is funded by the government, whereas the employer only pays for the Social Security and taxes. Then the government wires the sick leave money to him for him to forward to me, which, of course, didn't happen. I didn't receive a single cent from him. So here I was, broken, crippled,

bid-ridden, and unable to work. It gets worse. I ran out of money just as I had the last installment of an outstanding debt to pay. Banks were calling me weekly. I had to cash in an investment to pay it off and to subsist while I recovered. That was an investment that would have yielded me a modest amount of passive income for the rest of my life. So, I was ready for revenge. He lied to me, hid from me, failed to pay what was owed, stole from me, and pocketed money that was meant for me by the government. He'll cook in the fires of hell for what he's done. The revenge. Before I tell you what I did to him, I'd like to tell you a little bit of background about Rat Boss. He lives in a small apartment in our capital city, along with his wife and two children. The apartment is extremely

small, so small, in fact, that they all practically climb over on top of each other to pass each other by. But he did have a dream. He bought a plot of land where he was building a large house, so big in fact that a single one of the room was going to be bigger than his whole previous apartment. Over the course of those seven years, he slowly built it up, brick by brick. And he would almost done when we still talked. He told me that he was at most six months away from moving in. So the thing about me being his foreman is that it involves a lot of paperwork. Every decision, every purchase, every dirty little secret hidden away in the numbers. And I had it all. It was simply a matter of forwarding all that information to the appropriate authorities. And as soon as I was

able to walk, I went out to turn him into every government agency that had a shot of getting to him. The biggest hit came from the labor inspectorate. As the caseworker rummaged through the evidence I presented her, she mumbled to herself, wide-eyed, something along the lines of, My God, he broke half the labor laws in our country. The aftermath. When the government took action on Rat Boss, his fall was like being hit in the face by the same meteor that killed the dinosaurs.

His accounts were frozen, he was barred from traveling abroad, his business licenses were suspended, and he was required to dismiss all his current employees with severance, money which he didn't have. He filed for bankruptcy soon after. He was required to sell the house he dreamed about for his entire life to settle those fines. He's stuck now, like I was, even worse. He's trapped in that sardine can of his for an apartment,

unable to work, unable to support his family, unable to pay the bills until the legal proceedings from the government finish. Despite what he did to me, I was able to stay afloat. But for what I did to him, he's done. Broken, reduced to utter destitution. He called me when the government's gavel hit his face. He yelled over the phone, saying, how could I do this to him? And he yelled curse words at me.

In return, I called him out for lying to me about money after seven years, leaving me to rot in a hospital penniless. And I called him a rat. who betrayed his friend, and to never call me again, as we're now in a legal dispute, and he should forward all communication through the case office of the Labor Inspectorate and hung up. I made a claim on his bankruptcy proceedings. By the time he paid all the fines, all I was able to claim from him was a single month's worth of sick leave. No travel costs, no nothing else. But it's okay. I can live with that as long as he got ten times over the

grievance he inflicted on me. No eye for an eye, no tooth for a tooth, the whole face for an eye, the whole head for a tooth. I stand, both literally and figuratively, but Rat Boss is deep in the dirt. He used to dream about his big house, but now he dreams about how someday, maybe, just maybe, he'll be able to crawl all the way back up to rock bottom so he can start all over again. You know, I like to say on this channel, don't mess with the IT guy, and that's really, good advice. But also, maybe near the top of the list is don't mess with the guy who does all of your accounting and knows all the crimes you commit and can destroy your life with one simple email to the government. Maybe don't piss off that person, you know, just a thought. 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.