rSlash - r/TIFU by Poisoning my Roommate with Horse Laxatives

Episode Date: November 24, 2021

r/TIFU In today's episode, OP does vet work. A friend approaches OP and asks if she can provide a remedy for a constipated horse. OP happily makes apple-crunch snacks laced with extra-strength horse laxatives. She sticks the snacks in the fridge... and later her roommate discovers the tasty treats. He eats about 3, and accidentally poisons himself with horse laxatives. Let's just say that the roommate has to spend the rest of the day glued to the toilet! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Welcome to our slash a podcast where I read the best post from across Reddit today subreddit is our slash today I have to where O.P. poisons her roommate with horse laxative today. I have to buy accidentally poisoning my roommate with horse laxatives So to set the scene I'm an equine vet student living with my roommate a forensic biology master student I grew up with horses, so I have lots of friends in the equine world and my program focus means that I now get to offer a unique perspective and offering some help when I can. Anyways, a friend of mine who lives nearby owns a senior horse who has recently developed bouts of bowel issues. She spoke to her vet about wanting to prevent colic, which is when a horse gets a stomach ache, can't poop, and then dies. So her vet prescribed an oral laxative for her horse to help prevent constipation in the subsequent collic.

The problem is that her horse is a pretty big boy and he is not a fan of taking oral medication. And even in his old age, he can be a formidable opponent to tangle with. My friend approached me for advice and I offered to essentially hide the medication in homemade horse treats, since it was prescribed in powdered form. Lots of horses are extremely sensitive to anything that tastes even remotely like medication. So, hiding medication in a sweet treat would be a surefire way to get medication into a system when needed. Since I couldn't risk essentially ruining the medication by actually baking them, I settled on making no bake apple cinnamon clusters. At this point in the story, it's important to mention a few things regarding my roommate. Firstly, he's my ex-fiancé.

We're so long good terms, we're just better off as friends, so he knows that I love to bake. And we typically have an equal use policy when it comes to food and supplies, because we never broke the habit. Secondly, I pretty much never see him because he's so busy with his majors, so I didn't even know that he was home. So I finished making about 50 of the poop power horse trees and I left him on a train the fridge to firm up.

Like I said, I thought that my roommate would be out of the house all day, so I left to quickly take care of some things back on campus. Figuring I'd have plenty of time to get back home before my roommate got home. It was about an hour later when I got a text from my roommate. Hey, I hope you don't mind, but I had a few of those cookies you left in the fridge, and I just wanna let you know they were super good.

Smiley face, I miss your cooking. I texted back. Cookies? Yeah, the cinnamon ones. Y'all, I panicked! I called him up and asked him how many he ate. Oh, like three. And I essentially had to tell him that he just ate cookies containing essentially prescription horse laxatives, and that he needs to call poison control right now. I don't even want to imagine how that conversation went, but

based on the type and the amount of laxative I put in the batch and how many cookies were made from it, the concentration is low enough that it shouldn't have any serious effects, aside from the cookies obvious intended purpose. Obviously, I feel terrible because he's yeah. I can't even be in the apartment right now. It's so unbelievably effing bad. But on the bright side, he'll be fine in a few hours. Healthy as a horse you could say. What's so funny about this is if you eat something awful, one of the most common ways to get it out of your system

is to take something that forces it out of your system, so to speak, either one end or out the other. So I guess the nice thing about taking horse laxatives is that you don't have to take a laxative to force it out your system because it's already doing that job for you. Down in the comments, Bug Butt says, say nay to drugs. Today I effed up by giving back panties to my girlfriend, except that they weren't hers. I recently found panties in my bedroom.

I've been dating this girl for about five months, so I assume they were hers. I threw them in the laundry with my clothes and put them away. This morning, as she was leaving my place, she complained that she didn't have time to go home before going to school, and hence would have to wear the same panties. Suddenly, I remember the ones I found and said, hey, actually, I have a pair of your panties lying around. However, when I brought them out, her reaction was not what I anticipated. Those aren't mine, she said. I have no idea where they came from. They must have been from months ago before I started dating her, and I just found them,

I guess. I told my girlfriend the same thing, but she didn't seem convinced, and there was a bit of tension as she left my place this morning. Boys, if you find panties in your home, just throw them away. It's not worth the risk. Down in the comments, we have this story from Goffhr. I was cleaning my room once and found a necklace behind my bed, so I texted a picture of it to my girlfriend at the time saying that I found her necklace.

I got the same response, it wasn't hers. The only other girl that had been in my house for like a year was my friend's girlfriend, who was also my neighbor. She came to take care of my dog one weekend. I reached out to my friend's girlfriend and she confirmed that it was hers. This is how I found out that my friend and his girlfriend had passionately hugged on my bed while I was away. Today I have to, by accidentally implying to our babysitter, that we want to invite her

into our bedroom. For reference, my husband and I are in our mid to late 30s and our babysitter is in our early 20s. We have two young kids who are 5 and 3 and through the pandemic. My husband and I have been working from home. For a while we were taking shifts trying to watch the kids while the other head meetings, but eventually we resorted to hiring a babysitter sometimes during the day to watch them and keep them occupied so we could work. We'd gone through a couple of babysitters before landing on our current one. She's been absolutely fantastic,

a dream with the kids and she's been working with us for several months now. She's been absolutely fantastic, a dream with the kids, and she's been working with us for several months now. It's been such a godsend for us to hide away in our offices on our laptops, undisturbed through our work days, knowing someone is taking care of things on the other side of the door. The screw up happens yesterday.

When we decided we wanted to take a night for ourselves, now that restaurants were opening up again in our area. We had the babysitter go out, and my husband and I went out for a night of food and drink. Our first date night out at a restaurant in almost two years due to the pandemic. Going out to dinner was glorious, drinking, flirting, and being adults outside in the real world. We were able to feel like people, not just parents slash workers trapped in our own home. We felt energized and we knew how we wanted to spend that energy. But having young kids makes having a long time difficult.

Our kids are fussy sleeper sometimes. We were joking to each other, saying that we should ask the babysitter to stay later and watch the kids so he and I could have some private time on an erupted. When we first hired the babysitter, we took advantage of the fact that the kids were occupied by having a few sneaky quickies during the day while we were locked away working. But we hadn't done that in a while, and now the idea of some passionate hugging this evening without the risk of a bargin was very appealing. When we got home, I was a little tipsy.

The kids had been put to bed, but weren't really settled asleep yet so my husband went to check on them. I stayed and thanked our babysitter for helping us have a wonderful night out. She was very friendly as always and assured us that it was no problem, she would help us out whenever we needed. And here's where I screwed up. My tipsy brain thought that it would be cute to slightly joke about having her stay and watch the kids longer, so my husband and I could have some alone time together. It was one of those, I'm telling a joke, but I'm also testing the water type of things, which already is crossing a line, but what makes matters worse is how I phrased it. She said that we look so happy and rejuvenated and said that we must have had a great time

out. I agreed and said that it was so amazing, and I think there's so much for letting us escape as man and wife for a night to have some fun. She said, no worries at all, anytime you need me, I'm happy to help with anything. To which I said with a rye smile. Well, we'd been thinking about asking you if you wanted to stay a little bit longer so we could have s***. Which in my mind was me trying to suggest that she should stay longer to watch the kids so my husband and I could go passionately hug, but that is not how it came out. I understand now what was clearly implied by my phrasing. Her eyes went wide and her voice became hushed and she asked, are you serious?

And me, not understanding my screw up yet, laughed, and said that I was just teasing, but we'd certainly really enjoy it. We- Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha make her too uncomfortable and it was completely fine if she wasn't comfortable with it. I think that I'm treating the subject delicately because I think that I'm talking about a completely understandably weird thing to ask, which is, will you watch our kids so we can go passionately hug in another room? And she's responding like she's shocked that I'm asking, but is being super cool about it.

She stammer a bit and said that she would love to but she can't tonight. I try to drop it and say it's no big deal, thinking that we're just gonna passionately hug anyways, but it would have been nice to have a guard on duty. But the babysitter keeps insisting that she would, she just can't. She keeps stressing that she can't, and I'm starting to get that she's implying that she's on her period. I'm still tipsy, so I don't really know what that has to do with things or if I should be offering her any feminine products. But I just keep assuring her that it's no problem at all, and at this point I just want her to leave so I can go jump my husband. She continues to be apologetic and says that she would love to any other time, she thinks that we're amazing and it's such a huge fantasy

for her. And that's when something clicks in my brain, and I get what we're talking about. I start to panic a bit in backpedals, saying forget I ever asked, but the babysitter doesn't want me to feel like she's blowing me off or making excuses. And I'm trying to get out of it, but I'm in too deep to say there was a misunderstanding because she's so into it and supportive. And eventually, we just awkwardly hug and she leaves. I freak out and run to our bedroom to tell my husband the story of what just happened, and he starts howling with laughter and I'm just stressing out.

He's been making fun of me ever since, calling us swingers now. He's been telling me everything's gonna be fine, just tell her it was an honest mix-up. But this girl is great with our kids and she's been a dream for us helping out. I don't want to lose her as a babysitter and I'm afraid that I just screwed everything up. I have no idea what to do now. As I see it, I have these options. A, pretend like I don't even remember asking that I was too drunk and I have no idea what

she's talking about when she tries to bring it up. That's the coward's option, which is potentially mean and childish, but theoretically it spares all of us the embarrassment. Be, explain truthfully what happened, that it was a misunderstanding and risk making her feel completely embarrassed for being enthusiastically game and making our relationship with this amazing babysitter very awkward. Or she might just have a big laugh over it. This is the adult option, own your mistakes and clear the air.

See, ghost her, sell our home, move and change our names, the vacuum cleaner repairman option. D, just roll with it and have a threesome with this girl, the heroic option. And then OP post it an update. Success! I had a chat with her yesterday explaining everything, and then OP posted an update. Success! I had a chat with her yesterday explaining everything, and we both had a good laugh about it all. She's incredible understanding and cool, and made it very not awkward. We all admitted to a fun mutual attraction, but we've all agreed to keep things professional.

For now, she says babysitting is just temporary for her, so when she's ready to move on, we may have an opportunity for some fun in the future when we're not in an employer-slash-employee relationship. Thank you everyone for your encouragement, wise words, kind words, and funny words. I'm feeling much less stressed about this now. Okay, does this mean that in the future you're going to have to hire another babysitter so that you and your husband can go passionately hug your earlier babysitter? Also OP, I can't help but notice that option D is give her the D. Today I fduv by ordering an irresistible fruity drink and thus becoming father of the year. When I order drinks I usually keep it simple. Fervent and coke,

gin and tonic, two fingers of scotch, the occasional old fashioned, that kind of thing. But on the date of this screw-up, dear readers, I decided to mix it up. So I'm with my family at a non-descript casual restaurant chain. You know the type. They're all over suburbia, decorated with kitschy local sports stuff, music memorabilia, antique ads, etc. And populated by perky Waitstaff,

who most likely secretly hate their job, and are encouraged to wear flair. The waitress asks for my drink order, and instead of going with one of my usual stand-by's, I feel whimsical. So I order something off the menu with the word islands in the name. When she brings out our drinks,

mine is an explosion of colors, with a cornucopia of tropical fruit adorning the sides. It's super sweet, but tasty, refreshing, and stronger than I would have initially expected. After drinking about a quarter of it, I go to hit the gentleman's room. Upon my return from the facilities, my four-year-old daughter has this mischievous and somewhat conspiratorial look on her face. She leans in and says to me, almost in a whisper. Daddy, I tried your pretty drink. It tasted a little weird, but I liked it. My eyebrows raised a little, but I know that I shouldn't overreact because she probably just had a

tiny sip. I tried a calmly, but assertively explained that this is a grown-up drink, and it's not for kids. My wife, bless her heart, realizes what's happened and is a little less reserved in telling our daughter, kids should not drink grown-up drinks or they'll get sick, do not do it again. To be clear, my wife wasn't yelling, she was just using her serious mom voice when she said that. Our daughter seems suitably chastened and our food arrives. Then our daughter starts whining. I feel really sick now. My stomach hurts. Hard to me thinks that this is just psychosomatic because we put the idea in her head of the inevitably of her getting ill, but then...

BAM! We are brrrr. All over the table, and it was projectile. While my wife is dealing with a vomit soaked table, I rush my daughter to the bathroom, and then I'm suddenly reliving freshman year as I'm holding back her hair as she vomit some more into the toilets. All the while I'm just thinking, parents of the year, I wonder when CPS is coming. Needless to say, we never return to that restaurant.

Today I effed up by gifting a detective kit to my friend's kids. This happened a few months ago. I got in contact with an old friend who I hadn't seen in a while and I decided to drop by his house to catch up. He has a wife and two kids, one of which recently had a birthday, so it would look nice for me to bring a gift, right? Well, I checked out a few stores and I settled on one of those toy detective kits because I remembered my friend was into those crime slash detective stories back in the day.

Fun for the whole family, right? Then I go to his place. We greet, exchange small talk, and the kids come in, and I get them the gift. They love it, and they unpack it right away. It has a bunch of things, like a Sherlock-style magnifying glass, a fingerprint finder, and a UV light with a UV visible blood. The kids run around and we chat for about half an hour. Then, when the kids come screaming that their house is a murder house and they want to

check the parents' bedroom. We go to their bedroom laughing and the laughing awkwardly stops as we see there is, indeed, UV visible liquid all over the room. The kids think that it's blood from a murder, but the adults exchange awkward looks between each other. What follows is an excruciatingly long half hour of awkward chitchat and two kids terrorize to live in a murder house. I left eventually, and I'm not sure how they fix this, and I'm too awkward to bring it

up. Well, technically they're not wrong. Those are all of their fallen siblings all over the bed sheets. That was our slash today I upped up and if you like this content be sure to follow my podcast because I put out a new Reddit podcast episodes every single day.