When my husband “accidentally” locked me in the basement so he could watch a basketball game with his friends, I realized just how far he was willing to go to get what he wanted. What happened next still blows my mind.
It all began when Ethan, my husband, brought up the idea of having his friends over to watch a game. I knew exactly the kind of chaos that would follow, and I was not happy. I should have put my foot down right then, but I didn’t.
Ethan’s friends are nothing like him. He’s a successful 35-year-old manager at a tech company, but for some reason, he still keeps in touch with his high school buddies. These guys are loud, immature, and disrespectful. Every time they come over, our home turns into a frat house, and I’m the one who ends up cleaning after them.
“Dani, it’s just one game,” Ethan pleaded, flashing that hopeful grin he always used when he wanted to charm his way out of something. “The guys really want to watch it here. They can’t wait to see the new TV setup. It’ll be fun.”
Fun? Not for me. “You know how I feel about them, Ethan. Every time they come over, it’s like I’m living in a frat house. I’m not cleaning up after them anymore.”
Ethan’s smile faded. “It’s just one night, Dani. I barely get to see them because of work. Come on, just go upstairs or something. Don’t be like this.”
But I wasn’t budging. “No. They’re not coming here.”
He tried again, his voice softer this time. “Please? I’ll handle all the cleaning. I promise. Why don’t you invite your friends over? You can hang out in the hot tub while we watch the game.”
I didn’t respond, and neither did he. But deep down, I knew what was coming next.
Sure enough, the night of the big game rolled around a few days later. Ethan hadn’t brought it up again, which made me think he had finally listened. He even bought me flowers while we were grocery shopping that day, acting like everything was normal. He asked what I wanted for dinner like nothing was out of the ordinary.
He suggested we order takeout, and I happily agreed. “Fried chicken and fries sound perfect,” I said, not suspecting a thing.
Just as we were settling in, Ethan asked, “Can you grab the six-pack of beer from the basement fridge?”
“Sure,” I replied. “Let me finish drying my nails first.”
I didn’t think twice when I heard him talking on the phone as I made my way down to the basement to get the beer. Little did I know, his friends were already on their way over, and Ethan had a sneaky plan.
As I reached the top of the basement stairs with the six-pack in hand, the door slammed shut behind me. I tried the handle. It wouldn’t budge.
“Ethan?” I called, rattling the door. Nothing. “Ethan!” I shouted louder. Still no answer.
That’s when I heard it—the unmistakable sound of laughter, muffled voices, and the game blaring from the living room. My heart sank. He had locked me in the basement.
I banged on the door, yelling his name again, but it was pointless. Ethan and his friends were having a great time while I was trapped downstairs. Minutes stretched into an hour, and I was stuck with no way out.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the door creaked open. Ethan stood there, acting all casual, like nothing had happened.
“Oh, Dani! I didn’t realize you were down here. I must’ve locked the door by accident. You know I always lock the basement door out of habit,” he said with a fake laugh.
“An accident?” I repeated, my blood boiling.
“Yeah, I didn’t hear you,” he added, completely ignoring the mess he had just caused.
I stormed past him without saying a word and headed upstairs. The sight that greeted me in the living room made my blood run cold—his friends were sprawled on the couch, surrounded by empty beer bottles and chicken bones. He hadn’t accidentally locked me in the basement. He knew exactly what he was doing.
Ethan tried to smooth things over. “Babe, I’m sorry. The chicken’s all gone, but I can make you a grilled cheese or something.”
I ignored him and marched straight to bed. My fury was too deep to express in words at that moment. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing me snap. Not yet.
Instead, I waited. A few nights later, after Ethan was fast asleep, I quietly slipped out of bed. I grabbed something I had prepared earlier—a small tank with two harmless snakes, courtesy of my brother, who loved reptiles.
Ethan had always been terrified of snakes. My brother knew what had happened and was more than happy to lend me his pets, knowing they would serve my purpose perfectly.
I crept to the bedroom door, carefully opened it, and released the snakes. They slithered across the carpet and disappeared under the bed. I headed downstairs, grabbed a blanket, and curled up on the couch, waiting for my plan to unfold.
I called Ethan, waking him from his deep sleep.
“What? What is it?” he mumbled, still groggy and irritated.
“You might want to wake up,” I said calmly.
“What are you talking about? Where are you?” he asked, confused.
“There’s something in the room with you. A couple of things, actually.”
There was a brief pause before I heard a thud, followed by a panicked gasp. “Oh my God, Danielle! What did you do? There’s something in here with me!” he screamed, his voice full of terror.
I could almost picture him flailing in the dark, completely panicked, just like I had been in the basement. Poetic justice.
“Danielle! Please! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to lock you in the basement! Please, let me out!” he begged, his voice shaking with fear.
I let him sweat for a while, enjoying his frantic pleas. After a couple of hours, I finally went back upstairs and opened the door.
There he was, standing on the bed, pale and trembling.
“Try pulling a stunt like that again,” I said, my voice cold as ice, “and you’ll be out of my house and my life before you know it.”
He nodded, too scared to even speak.
