During my elementary school years, before my parents deemed me old enough to watch after myself, I had to spend my after-school hours at a sitter's. Most of the other kids there were nice enough, but there was one kid that terrified us.

She was in fifth grade, which made her old in our eyes, and she was a bully as well. She was also horridly obese, and it wasn't out of the ordinary for her to put one of us in a headlock and demand we hand over our graham crackers at snack time. With her greasy forearm cutting off the air supply, the poor unfortunate had no alternative but to comply.

One afternoon I had to whiz, so I ran inside. I saw the behemoth coming out of the bathroom, so I ducked around the corner to avoid her, then slipped into the bathroom after she had passed. I was greeted by a foul odor, and floating there in the bowl was a steaming logjam of amazing proportions.

I immediately ran back outside, whizzed in the bushes, and told my buddies what I had seen.

We all got a good laugh, but the joke turned out to be on me. The sitter had seen me come out of the bathroom and assumed that the poop was mine. Disregarding the fact that a seven year old could not possibly produce that much shit, she gave me a 15 minute lecture about proper bathroom etiquette, and when I protested that I wasn't the one who had befouled the bathroom, I got another one about lying.

Years later, I ended up dating the behemoth's younger sister (her cute, nonfat sister) and thought about pulling the same trick on her. I gave up that idea because I had become a "mature and responsible person", and also because I realized that I couldn't time it right. I got my revenge by loosening the battery cables on her car, making up a non-existent problem about why it wouldn't start, and charging her $200 bucks to fix it.
-- Artful Dodger