rSlash - r/Prorevenge I Destroyed Office Douche

Episode Date: April 8, 2026

0:00 Intro 0:08 Officer Douche Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Welcome to R-slash pro revenge, where O.P. systematically destroys a bully's life. Our next Reddit post is from Biking Tactical. My wife inherited a house and land and begged me to move there. It was somewhere that I knew wouldn't have anything in either of my fields of employment. But she did get a job offer in her field, which was wildlife management, at a salary that matched what we were currently making combined, along with an employment contract, which is rare in the U.S., as well as control of her own team and insanely good benefits. Since we have no children, and I'm the adaptable type, I could see this meant a lot to her, so I agreed. We put our house up for sale and we move there sight unseen. While I'm used to the house and even fond of it now, this place was the land that time forgot, literally horse and buggy

country, and it quickly became clear that for a while, she would have to be the sole income while I brought our new property into the modern era. The house literally had no plumbing. There was an outhouse and a manual well pump outside. We decided to buy a used house trailer, place it on the southernmost part of the property, and live in that while I worked on the house. I'm not from this area, and the culture shock was intense. My wife had family from there and would spend a few summers as a child with relatives, so she understood the people better than me, and being the same height and skin tone, she was quickly accepted. Meanwhile, me standing eight inches minimum above everyone else, and being so white I show up from outer space,

I had a bit of a harder time, but I managed to make some friends eventually. After some time getting everything updated, we came in way under budget, since I decided to learn the skills and do all the work myself. It quickly became clear that while our immediate area was lovely, with good people and trusting neighbors, the surrounding counties had developed a meth and pill problem. And with all the industries being strict on drug testing once heroin came onto the scene, people were starting to make their way to our areas for break-ins, carjackings, and even a few cases of kidnapping for ransom. A couple of senior citizens just outside of town were broken into and beaten and then shot to death just for maybe like 300 bucks worth of jewelry, a couple of old

guns, and their pain medication. Seeing a need in my community, I used the leftover money that we had to bought some land that was deemed unfit for development at a steel. And after getting permits and building it myself, I started a security, self-home defense and firearms training company. I created local jobs in the nearby counties by training armed guards beyond state standards. I helped people develop a neighborhood watch program, offered neighborhood security patrols at cost, made sure local shops had cameras, and had plans and training in place in case of a robbery. And I worked with individual households to develop their own defense strategies, along with offering concealed carry training, advanced firearm training,

OC spray, trauma, and first aid training, and other things. Somehow, without meaning to, I managed to wedge myself into a unique position where I not only trained everyday people, but I got certified to be the guy that all police agencies in the region send their officers to for state recertification and further training. Turns out, before I came along, they had to send their officers almost six hours north to a state facility, which meant they also had to pay for a hotel room for anyone that went up there, as well as two meals and mileage if they didn't drive a squad car. Not to mention that the tactics the other guys taught didn't always translate

well into our area. I offered to do it for a bit less, and given my location, no hotels or anything else were needed. For the first time in my life, I felt like my work really mattered, that I was making a positive difference for real people, and I looked forward to going to my job. In my line of work, I've gotten to know a lot of the police in my area pretty well, and I can even say that I consider a few of them to be friends. The departments I work with get quite a few officers who are new or transfers from other areas, as this region of my state has a pretty median average pay grade, and a lot of the officers use it as a stepping stone to get to the bigger paying areas or to get their first bit of experience and head to another state. Now, the ones who have made a life here and decided to stay

learned a long time ago that the locals do not take flack that isn't fair lightly. The people here demand justice, come hell or high water. In the past, corrupt officers have been hanged or beaten to when the courts failed the citizens, and they didn't punish officers for doing something heinous. Even one former judge who got a slap on the wrist after being convicted of molesting three children went missing and was later found bound to a tree and apparently was set on fire while still alive. So the officers tend to do a really good job of weeding out the bad apples and reminding newcomers that they're there to help the people and protect people, not harm or bully them, which in my experience, isn't the case at all. So I'm doing an armed guard gig during a night shift when a police car spotted me on a perimeter check and pulled into the lot to see who I was.

After the cop figured out who I was, they decided to sit around and chat with me for a bit. The officers mentioned a new hire who transferred from a larger city, and they just know this officer is going to cause trouble with the locals. They mentioned this officer has a, I know better than you, attitude and thinks that the badge on their chest means they're are the law. Apparently, this officer already raised a bit of a stink because he wrote citations for things that no other officer in the department has, like driving with one hand, a burnt-out fog light, plastic being taped over a broken back window in a car, head nights not on in the middle of the day, or when it's raining. He even tried to give a DUI to a guy who was sitting in a car that was on cinder blocks in his driveway and it had no rear axle.

Apparently, he speaks aggressively to anyone who dares interact with him if they aren't a police officer. And overall, he just acts like a power-tripping douche-nazzle. The other officers have noticed that the locals have changed their demeanor towards the officers in general. And they seem more distrusting since this guy started, and they were genuinely worried that he would turn everyone against them. Two weeks or so after having this chat and hearing similar things from other officers I know, I get my first interaction with Officer Douche. On my way to speak with a prospective client,

this douche nozzle pulled me over for waving at him when we passed each other on a two-lane highway. He slammed his brakes on, whips around in the middle of the road, and came flying up behind me so close I can't see his headlights with flashing lights on and siren blaring. After enduring his frankly insulting lines of questioning,

with his hand on his pistol grip about why I felt the need to carry a gun, and him sharing his doubts that 99% of people probably wouldn't even know how to be able to use it. This cock goblin wrote me a citation for reckless operation of a vehicle, stating that he was justified in doing so because he saw me remove my hand from the wheel. Trying to be diplomatic, I said, I just figured you'd appreciate a friendly gesture from someone today. I know I like it when someone gives me a friendly wave. This absolutely absolute insult to humanity blows a gasket, gets in my face yelling at me, threatening to haul your smart ass downtown, and see how friendly you are when you're hooked up to the back of his

car. He says that if he felt like it, he could cost you more in impound fees and lost wages than you would make in a month. He has no clue what I do or where I work. Then he asked, what do you think about that? At this point, I have an internal battle with myself, wanting to slam him to the ground and beat his skull open on the asphalt to see exactly how empty it was inside. But saner thoughts prevail and I simply handed him my lawyer's business card and stated that any further interactions we had would have to go through her. He looked at the card, called me a pussy, and told me to get out of his sight. Once I got moving, I realized exactly how angry he'd made me. I had spent years learning to keep my emotions to a minimum since it could cost someone

dearly in my line of work, and this grunt was able to boil my blood in just a few minutes. He wasn't a big guy, even for the area, and he didn't carry himself like someone who was confident of their skills. Being that aggressive and having his hand on his pistol grip for most of our interactions spoke volumes as to what kind of person this jizz stain was. What would happen if he pulled over someone who didn't have my level of control and acted like that, or worse? I decided that the officers I talked to were definitely not exaggerating, and this dick was going to end up getting himself or someone else killed or hurt, and something needed to be done about it. First, I went to court and showed my dash cam video, which got my citation dismissed. I took the rest of the audio and video to the sheriff of the county he works for and showed it to him. Then we had a long conversation. The sheriff agreed with my assessment of this guy, but said that he couldn't really do much but reprimand him.

for it and admitted that he would love to just toss him on his butt. However, he knew the union would fight to prevent that, and at best he would only be gone for a couple of days to get some training that would most likely go entirely ignored. He even cautioned me against filing against him because he figured the guy was the type to take it personally, and he didn't want to see anything happen to me. He promised he would do what he could to get rid of the grunt, but in most ways his hands were tied. I could tell the sheriff hoped that this officer would just move on and become someone else's problem when his two years were up. I couldn't help thinking that if this officer was causing this kind of trouble already, it's only a matter of time before

someone around here loses it on this douche and swings at him. Then, even though this grunt deserves to eat his own teeth, at least, some poor guy will end up with his life ruined or worse. All because Officer Douche has a badge and likes to wag his dick-beater. Feeling as though there was nothing more I could do, I went about my business as usual the next couple of days. Then, guess who came through my door to schedule with me for their recertification? The officer didn't know me from Adam and just swaggered about like he owned the place and complained about this being a waste of time and a bunch of bureaucratic BS. I had a real Kodak moment when I reminded him of our last interaction. He tried to excuse it as just being by the book and claimed that his hands were tied when it came to the citation,

And he only acted that way because I had a firearm. And he was nervous about that gun, so he needed to assert his authority over the situation. By now, I had a large portion of the people that live in my area come through for training, and most of them carried it daily. This guy just confirmed my fears for me, and I was going to do what only I could do to lay those fears to rest. Q Pro Revenge Mode. Already forming a plan, I told him I understood completely, and that I operate that way as well.

Not even processing how that could affect him, this moron seemed glad to hear that, and we sat down to get his paperwork started. The whole time we're doing this, he's bragging and talking about how good of a shot he is, and that I look forward to the day someone wants to F around and find out. After getting all the paperwork sorted and scheduling a time and date, he asked if he could shoot at my range to get some practice shots in.

I even waived my range fee just to see, this piece of garbage shoot. After going over the range rules, I ran him out of target at 10 yards and signaled the lane hot. He fired all 17 rounds out of his mag at a rapid pace and only managed to hit 5 on target, only one of which was center mass. He repeated this four more times at varying distances, and his best score ended up being at 5 yards out with only 10 shots on targets, of which 4 were center mass. I suggested he slow up his cadence a bit. and asked if he wanted my advice. He told me,

I forgot more than you ever knew, so shut your mouth. So I did. Then he proceeded to run it out to 10 yards and shoot one at a time at a slow pace. He didn't get a single hit center mass, which I typically only see from first timers. After seeing a 13-year-old girl a few lanes down from him,

load up and absolutely drill head shots at 15 yards with my range master instructing her, the police officer made some excuse about needing his sights adjusted. Then he packed up, and this brainless moron left thinking that we're all buddy-buddy a few minutes later. The policy around here is that the county pays for your first test, and if an officer fails to rectify, then they either choose two weeks unpaid leave, or they sit at the office and do paperwork at reduced pay for two weeks. Then they have to pay out of pocket to try again. Of course, it's encouraged that they're, the officers come to me for help, but being that I'm not a charity, some choose to practice on their own, which is fine. If they fail a second time, the sheriff can cut them loose without any issues

from the union, and the officer has to wait one year to even be considered for rehire. I decided the moment he signed the papers that there would be no mercy for this douche nozzle. The day of his test finally comes, and he shows up wearing shorts and a tap-out t-shirt, with only his gun and duty belt emptied of everything else. No vest, no range bag, no radio, no eye or ear protection, no cuffs, OC spray or taser. Not a damn thing that he knew he was supposed to have. After pointing these issues out, he huffs and says, I brought everything that's important. Let's just get this over with.

Mind you, I could have failed him right then and there for non-compliance. I had a copy of his signature on the paperwork, stating he owned all required gear and would bring it with him for the test, and that he would be dressed to listed standards on testing day. But that just wouldn't have been satisfying enough for me. I wanted to make absolutely sure that anyone who looked into it would see that he himself was the failure. That this loud mouth bolstering piss stain wasn't fit to the standards of his peers, and his mother should have swallowed him 25 years ago and done society a favor. Not that he failed due to circumstantial or bureaucratic BS beyond his control. I let the

the clothing slide and loaned him some rental safety gear, which he complained about wearing, but eventually put on. After getting it all sorted and noting all this on his chart, I let him take his test. And man, was I glad that I did? If he hadn't made me see him for the awful piece of trash he is, I would have felt sad for him. He failed the first test immediately due to sheer ineptitude. When the buzzer sounded, first he tripped over his own feet and ate the ground face first. Full squirt Then, after getting up and continuing while drawing from Crouch, he somehow managed to catch his front sight or barrel on his holster opening, and he sent his gun tumbling through the dirt. Then he fell over when he tried to lean over to get it.

Losing control of the firearm is an instant test stop, so I sounded the buzzer. Holding back laughter, I gave him a second chance, even though I already had what I needed. While he managed to keep hold of the gun most of the time, he struggled to clear the misfire. costing him too much time for his slow cadence earlier, and only two shots were on target. For the first time ever for me, someone had failed the first test on all three metrics. I've had people come to me for the first time they held a gun, or with a legitimate fear of guns, who could outperform this arrogant twat-waffle. After listening to him try to make excuses, complain, demand, and then beg for me to give him another chance,

I told him I couldn't, and he failed, that my report, was getting sent in, and he would have to talk to his training officer, and we could go from there. He exploded in anger and started calling me anything he could think of, claiming I was only doing this because of the ticket he gave me, and cursing me in some honestly creative ways, while slamming his fist into my wall like a petulant tween, and telling me that he was going to make sure you regret this, while pointing at me and my staff in the other room. Knowing I have him on camera with audio punching a hole in my wall, and I have witness. is, a new thought came to me when I heard him say this. And I decided to steer him just the way I

wanted him to go. All I had to do was ask if what he said was a threat. And this moron responded, You bet it is! And to my surprise, he reached out to give me a shove. I sidestepped him and he stumbled past, which pissed him off even further. I told him then and there to get the F off my property and that he wasn't welcome back. I looked this douchebag straight in the house. and informed him that he just sealed his fate. Since now, he would have to be begged to be sent to the other facility. And I would make certain my report recommended he would never work as an officer again. And should they ignore my advice, I'd be raising my prices to better reflect the training they get here.

He then decided to spit at me and swing a punch. Not one to miss an opportunity, and since I easily outweigh him by 50 pounds, I raised my guard. And the moment his arm made contact with mine, I used his momentum and my muscle to send him over my shoulder and directly into the ground with everything I could muster. I channeled my ancestors and the ancient gods of their homeland into that throw, fully intending to leave a wily coyote-esque crater on the floor. Rolling him to his back and sitting atop him in full mount position,

I watched this wannabe badass try to remember how to breathe after meeting the ground that hard, and immediately cry like a baby and beg for his life when he looked at. looked past me to see my range master, and looked past me to see my co-worker with a gun pointed at the officer and with his other hand already talking to his boss on the phone. Apparently, my rangemaster had been watching everything from his office on the security feed, and when Officer Douche started punching the walls, my boy immediately picked up the phone and called the sheriff, grabbing his shotgun on his way out the door to us. When all was said and done, I got to watch him get hauled off my property by his boss,

cuffs and read his rights, since, yes, I will be pressing charges. He assaulted me, threatened me and my employees, and damaged my property, and I had all the evidence I need to prove it. Despite all the evidence and the testimony against him, Officer Duge ended up getting a pretty good plea deal, but he'll never be able to be a police officer or legally own a firearm again, so I consider it a win. His wife filed for divorce for domestic violence while he was awaiting his court date, and thankfully they had no children together, so it was granted without issue, and he has no rights to see her son. He moved away immediately after his hearing, and last I heard, he makes minimum wage working at a gas station somewhere up north. If I had to compile a top three list of the worst places to start a fight with

someone, it would be an airports, a police station, and a gun range. And this guy decided to pick a fight in a gun range, which is an interesting choice, certainly. Very, um, very odd call there. This dude's lucky he didn't get shot by like five different people simultaneously. That was our slash pro revenge. And if you like this content, be sure to follow my podcast because I put out new Reddit podcast episodes every single day.