Blame It On The Phone
Daniel muttered furiously about his phone, resetting it again and again like a man convinced the problem lay in his own hands. The spectacle became even funnier when my dog, sensing my energy, joined the act. Every time I muttered “Daniel,” Rover barked right on cue, like a furry sidekick in my secret prank war.
Blame It On The Phone
I could just imagine Daniel, baffled and panicking, believing his digital paradise had somehow gone rogue. In reality, it was only me behind the curtain, pulling the strings with precision and glee, while my dog provided the perfect comedic soundtrack.
Caught In The Act
One evening, his frustration finally bubbled over. Daniel’s angry voice echoed down the hall, loud enough for half the building to hear as he shouted, “Who the hell is doing this?” I stayed perfectly still, biting back laughter and pretending to sleep while the tension in the air thickened. When the moment was just right, I whispered softly, “You know who,” letting the words drift out like a ghostly echo.
Caught In The Act
The thrill of it was electric—hearing the realization dawn on him that his secret wasn’t so secret anymore was like the climax of my own little revenge show.
