The Christmas Gift That Sparked a Year of Revenge
Some gifts warm your heart. My husband’s Christmas gift? It ignited a firestorm of rage. What followed was a year-long plot to deliver the perfect revenge, culminating in a Christmas moment I’ll never forget.
Have you ever received a present that made you question everything about the person who gave it to you? Not an ugly sweater or a pointless knickknack, but a gift so thoughtless it made your stomach drop and your blood boil. That’s exactly what happened to me, Susan, when my husband Murphy decided to give me his idea of a thoughtful Christmas gift. And let me tell you—it set the stage for the most satisfying revenge of my life.
Money was always tight for us. Murphy worked grueling double shifts at a metal fabrication plant, while I pieced together an income tutoring kids and babysitting for the neighbors. Between bills and raising two teenagers, we barely scraped by, and Christmas was no exception. For 16 years, we had an agreement: presents were for the kids and our parents, but not for each other.
That’s why, when Murphy called me into the living room ten days before Christmas, grinning from ear to ear next to a massive gift-wrapped box, I was caught completely off guard.
“What’s this?” I asked, staring at the glittery wrapping paper that screamed, expensive.
“It’s your Christmas present! I know we don’t usually do this, but I wanted to do something special for you this year,” he said, practically bouncing with excitement. “Trust me, you’re gonna love it.”
The girls, Mia and Emma, giggled from the doorway. “Dad’s been so secretive about it,” Mia teased. “He wouldn’t even let us help wrap it!” I should’ve known something was off.
For ten days, that box sat under the tree, taunting me. I imagined all sorts of possibilities—a thoughtful piece of jewelry, a cozy quilt, maybe even something indulgent like a new television to replace the one that had broken months ago.
When Christmas Eve finally arrived, the house was alive with holiday cheer. Family crowded into our tiny living room, laughing and sharing stories as cinnamon-scented candles filled the air. Murphy beamed as he handed me the enormous box.
“Open it, Sus! You’re going to love it,” he said, his excitement contagious.
With everyone watching, I carefully tore away the wrapping paper. My heart pounded with anticipation. Then, I lifted the lid and froze.
“A… vacuum cleaner?” I stammered, staring at the sleek box emblazoned with marketing promises like ‘Top Suction Power!’ and ‘Perfect for Every Mess!’
Murphy grinned, clearly proud of himself. “Not just any vacuum! This one’s top of the line. I already tested it in the garage—it’s amazing for metal shavings! Oh, and when you’re done using it in the house, make sure to keep it in the garage for me.”
The room fell silent except for the sound of Mia and Emma stifling giggles. Murphy’s parents exchanged awkward glances, and I excused myself, retreating to the bedroom with tears in my eyes.
When Murphy followed me, I let him have it. “A vacuum cleaner? Seriously? You wrapped up something you wanted and called it my Christmas gift!”
“What’s the big deal?” he asked, baffled. “It’s practical. You’re overreacting.”
“Practical?” I snapped. “I’d rather get a $5 bracelet that shows you thought about me as a person—not just as the one who cleans up after everyone!”
Murphy stormed out, grumbling about how “ungrateful” I was. But that night, as I lay on the couch, a plan began to form. If Murphy thought practical gifts were appropriate for Christmas, I’d show him exactly what that meant.
Over the next year, I quietly set aside bits of my tutoring money to fund my revenge. When Christmas rolled around again, I went all out. I invited every relative we could squeeze into our house, making sure there’d be plenty of witnesses.
Under the tree sat Murphy’s gift: a massive box, even larger than the one he’d given me the year before, wrapped in premium glittery paper.
“What’s this?” Murphy asked, his excitement returning as he eyed the giant package.
“Just a little something special,” I said sweetly. “I wanted to show you how much I appreciate all you do for our family.”
On Christmas Eve, with the entire family gathered, Murphy tore into the box. As the wrapping paper fell away, his expression shifted from curiosity to confusion—and then horror.
Inside was an industrial-sized case of premium four-ply toilet paper. “Perfect for the house and the garage!” I chirped. “You said Christmas gifts should be practical, right?”
The room erupted in laughter. Mia and Emma recorded the whole scene on their phones, while Uncle Bill nearly fell out of his chair. Even Murphy’s mom, Eleanor, couldn’t hide her grin as she patted me on the back.
Murphy’s face turned bright red. “Toilet paper? Are you serious?”
I smiled sweetly. “As serious as you were about that vacuum cleaner.”
That was five years ago. Murphy hasn’t mentioned Christmas presents since, but he did learn a valuable lesson: thoughtful gifts matter. Our family still laughs about the Great Toilet Paper Christmas, and I keep a stash of wrapping paper handy—just in case he forgets.
Sometimes, the best revenge isn’t just sweet. It’s practical.
Leave a Reply