I didn’t think my dad would ever take one of his dumb jokes this far, but here we are. My phone lit up today with a video message from my mom that made my heart stop for a second.

I wasn’t prepared for what I saw, and now, hours later, I’m still trying to process it.

Let me back up and give you some context. My dad is what you’d call “old school.” He has a grumpy exterior, like he came straight out of the 1970s and never adapted to life in the present.

He’s not a bad guy, but he can be ridiculously difficult to get along with. He doesn’t do heart-to-hearts or deep conversations. Instead, he lightens up at home with harmless, annoying pranks that he thinks are hilarious but leave my mom rolling her eyes.

Most of the time, Dad does silly things like hiding Mom’s glasses or misplacing her keys right when she’s about to leave. These pranks have always been annoying but nothing too wild.

Except today.

Today, Dad decided to outdo himself.

I was in my apartment about 20 minutes from my parents’ house, sipping a soft drink and scrolling through TikTok, when my phone pinged with a message from my mother.

A woman in a basement | Source: AmoMama

A video message.

The thumbnail was black, and I could only hear her voice, muffled and shaky. Like she was afraid of something.

That’s when I panicked. Mom wasn’t the type to send video messages; I didn’t think she knew how. Immediately, I knew something was off.

I tapped play, and there she was. The camera was shaky, and she was crouched in a corner, whispering like she was about to be caught.

“Annie,” she breathed. “Sweetheart, your dad… he locked me in the basement. Can you come help me? He thinks this is funny. I think there are rats or mice down here. Come quickly.”

What. The. Hell.

I was so shocked I nearly dropped my phone. Locked in the basement? He thought that was funny?

My dad, in all his “wisdom,” had decided that the best way to enjoy his dinner in peace was to lock my mother in the basement. Just so she wouldn’t remind him to eat his veggies during a football game? He truly didn’t care about his cholesterol.

I called her back immediately, but it went straight to voicemail.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up!” I muttered.

My brain went into overdrive. My mom never asked for help unless things were beyond her control. She was a strong woman, but also deeply afraid of the dark and confined spaces.

So now, she was locked in the basement and not answering her phone. Dad had crossed a line.

I texted her, but there was no response.

“Maybe her phone died,” I told myself. “She must be so afraid… and livid.”

I knew I had to get to her as soon as possible.

I grabbed my keys and bolted out of my apartment. I made it to their house in twelve minutes.

The entire drive, I was fuming, already planning my revenge. “I can’t believe the nerve of this man,” I said to myself as I turned onto their street.

When I arrived, I didn’t bother knocking. I had my spare key, so I let myself in. As soon as I stepped inside, I could hear the muffled sound of the TV blaring from the living room.

Classic Dad.

He was probably stuffing his face with steak. Little did he know, I was about to teach him a lesson.

I headed straight for the basement. The door was locked, but the key hung from the hook next to it.

I knocked softly, and Mom’s relieved voice came through the wood.

“Honey, is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me, Mom. Hang tight; we’re getting you out of there.”

I unlocked the door, and when my mother stepped out, she looked tired but had a glint in her eye, like she wanted revenge too.

“Dad’s still in the living room,” I said. “He didn’t even hear me come in.”

“Oh? He’s still enjoying his victory, then?”

“Yeah, well, that’s going to be short-lived.”

There’s one thing about my father: he loves his “throne.” It’s a ridiculous electric recliner he spent too much on. He treats it like it’s sacred.

Naturally, I aimed my revenge at it.

I told my mom the plan, and she laughed nervously. We crept toward the living room where Dad was glued to his game, digging into dinner.

I quietly unplugged his precious chair. He didn’t notice. Then, with my mom watching, I pulled out a tube of super glue and smeared it over the chair’s buttons.

Mom and I went back to the kitchen and sat on bar stools as she opened a tub of cookies.

Ten minutes later, the game went to halftime. Dad tried to press the recline button. Nothing happened. He frowned and pressed it again, harder.

Still nothing.

“What the heck?” he grumbled, fiddling with the controls. Then, I saw it. The moment realization hit him.

He started pulling at the armrests, trying to get up, but his hands were stuck. His face went from confusion to full-on panic.

“What’s wrong, Frank?” Mom asked, strolling into the living room.

“The darn chair is broken!” he complained.

“Oh, really? Maybe because you overuse it. But wasn’t it fine before you locked me in the basement?” Mom asked.

Dad’s eyes widened.

“You didn’t… Wait! How did you get out?” he asked.

“Annie,” Mom said simply.

I stepped out from the kitchen, where I had been recording their conversation.

“Smile for the camera, Dad,” I said. “This is going in the family group chat!”

“You wouldn’t dare, Annie!” he barked, tugging helplessly at his stuck hands.

“Oh, but I would.”

I pressed send, and the replies started rolling in. If there was one thing my father hated, it was being seen beyond his usual façade.

“I’m taking Mom home with me for the rest of the weekend,” I said. “You can figure out how to get yourself off your throne.”

Mom went upstairs to pack an overnight bag. I didn’t want to leave her with Dad. But I doubted he’d be locking anyone in the basement anytime soon.

What would you have done?