Hey folks, it’s Phoebe here, but you can call me Pippi. Let me introduce you to Pete, my 55-year-old, ruggedly handsome father with a white beard and hands that show years of hard work. He’s a plumber and a craftsman who treats every job as if it’s his own home.

A few months ago, I visited Dad at his place. He was lounging on the patio, puffing on his cigar, and laughing like he’d heard the world’s funniest joke.

“What’s got you so amused?” I asked.

Dad’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Oh, Pippi, you won’t believe this one. It’s a doozy!”

He leaned in, still chuckling. “Remember the bathroom remodel I did for the Carlyles? I call them the Pinchpennies.”

I knew this was going to be good. Dad’s stories always were.

“They wanted a complete makeover—new tiles, fancy fixtures, and even where to place the toilet paper holder. They picked everything out themselves.”

A young woman and an older man smiling | Source: AmoMama

“That sounds like a dream job,” I said.

Dad snorted. “It was at first. But then…”

His tone shifted, and I braced for the twist. “What happened?”

“On the last day, as I’m finishing up the grouting, they decide to pull a fast one. They told me they were only going to pay half of what they owed me!”

I was outraged. “Half? After all that work?”

“Exactly!” Dad said. “I tried to reason with them, but they were adamant. So, I decided to teach them a lesson.”

“What did you do?” I asked.

Dad grinned. “I finished the job but mixed the grout with sugar and honey instead of water.”

I blinked. “Sugar and honey? Why?”

Dad leaned back, savoring his cigar. “Just wait and see.”

He packed up, took half the payment, and left, knowing what would come next.

“Didn’t they notice something was off?” I asked.

“Not right away. It looked fine when it dried. But a few weeks later…”

Dad’s grin widened. “Mrs. Carlyle found ants marching along the grout lines. Then came cockroaches and every other creepy-crawly!”

I laughed. “No way!”

“Oh, it gets better,” Dad continued. “They spent a fortune on pest control, but nothing worked. They even blamed the sprays for ruining the grout!”

“How do you know all this?” I asked.

“Johnny, my neighbor friend, kept me updated.”

“And the Carlyles?” I asked.

“They ended up redoing the bathroom, but the sugar residue stayed. The bugs kept coming back,” Dad said. “Last I heard, they were planning to redo it again.”

I shook my head, impressed. “That’s one long-lasting revenge.”

Dad’s expression softened. “I hope it went on a bit longer than intended, but they tried to cheat me. It was a lesson they won’t forget.”

As the sun set, casting a warm glow, I thought about the Carlyles and their bug-infested bathroom. Sometimes karma comes with six legs and a sweet tooth.

“Hey, Dad,” I said, “if I ever need my bathroom redone, I’m paying you in full upfront.”

Dad laughed and hugged me. “That’s my girl!”

We laughed together, enjoying the sunset, with the story of the Carlyles a reminder that you get what you give.