Whether it’s a cheating spouse, an entitled individual, or a selfish family member, karma spares no one. These five stories showcase how it serves justice even when things seem like they’ve gone out of control.
Karma, the cosmic force of cause and effect, often works in mysterious ways. But sometimes, it strikes with immediate and undeniable impact.
In this collection, we present five stories where wrongdoers faced instant consequences, reminding us that what goes around truly does come around.
1. My Sister Threw Our Grandpa a Birthday Party but Demanded That He Pay for It When the Bill Came — Karma Retaliated
When my younger sister Ariel offered to plan Grandpa’s 90th birthday, I knew things would go awry, but I didn’t expect this. The first odd thing I noticed was the party venue.
Ariel chose a sushi restaurant for the party knowing well that Grandpa didn’t like sushi. To make matters worse, the guests were mostly her loud university friends. Grandpa’s friends and relatives? She didn’t even invite them.
When I confronted her during the party, she brushed off my concerns saying Grandpa was “happy to hang out with the youth” when he was clearly feeling out of place.
It seemed like Ariel had thrown a party for her friends while Grandpa just sat in a corner. I felt so terrible for him.
Then, just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, Ariel handed the bill to Grandpa.
“Here you go, Gramps! Happy birthday! Time to pay up!” she laughed, oblivious to the disaster.
I couldn’t stay quiet.
“Ariel, what are you doing? Gramps shouldn’t pay for his own birthday!”
I snatched the bill, but Gramps, always the peacekeeper, offered to pay.
“It’s alright, Jocelyn. I can handle it,” he said.
I wasn’t letting that happen.
“Let me take care of this, Gramps,” I smiled. “You’ve done enough for all of us.”
Then, as Ariel went back to her friends, I asked the bartender for the aux cable. I pretended I wanted to play a special song for Grandpa.
Instead, I plugged the cable into my phone and played Ariel’s voice messages where she was ranting about her friends. The same friends who were sitting right there.
“I can’t stand my roommate!” her voice echoed across the room. “She’s always in my space, and her boyfriend is the worst. He’s such a slob, and she’s just as bad!”
I watched in silence as Ariel’s jaw dropped open and her friends looked at her with wide eyes. Soon, all of her friends left, and she just sat there in silence.
Ariel knew why I’d played the audio, and didn’t have the guts to confront me.
That’s when Gramps, ever wise, looked at Ariel and said, “Ariel, you need to take responsibility for your actions. This isn’t how we treat family or friends.”
“I’m sorry, Grandpa,” Ariel apologized.
Grandpa and I didn’t have to say a lot to make her realize how wrong it was to invite her friends to Grandpa’s birthday party, and then ask him to pay the bill. Karma had done its job, and I was sure Ariel wouldn’t dare do such an immature thing again.
2. Man in Walmart Demanded That I Give up My Wheelchair for His Tired Wife – Karma Got Him before I Could
I was rolling through Walmart in my wheelchair when Mr. Entitled blocked my path.
“My wife’s tired. Give her your wheelchair,” he demanded, gesturing to the woman behind him.
I blinked, thinking it was some weird joke. “Uh, sorry, what?”
“You heard me,” he snapped. “She’s been on her feet all day. You’re young, you can walk.”
“I can’t walk,” I explained. “That’s why I need this chair.”
But he wasn’t buying it.
“You’re faking it!” he barked, his face growing red.
Things escalated quickly as a Walmart employee, Miguel, intervened.
“Sir, we can’t ask someone to give up a mobility aid,” Miguel said calmly.
But Mr. Entitled kept yelling, demanding a manager and ranting about my supposed “fraud.” Just as he stepped back, karma struck. LITERALLY.
He stumbled into a display of canned vegetables, crashing to the floor as cans rolled everywhere.
His wife rushed over, while Mr. Entitled tried to get up, only to slip on another can and fall again.
The whole store was watching at that point, and I couldn’t suppress a laugh. Miguel tried his best to help him, but Mr. Entitled ranted about suing the store before his wife hurried him out.
I still wonder what would’ve happened next if she wasn’t there.
3. I Came Home to See My Furniture Put up for Grabs — My Ex-husband’s Petty Revenge Backfired Spectacularly
After about four years of marriage, Brendan and I decided to split. I won’t go into the details behind it, but all I knew was he had become so much bitter after this decision. It was getting too unbearable to stay with him in the same house.
As a result, I went to my parents’ house to clear my mind one weekend. But when I returned, I found all my furniture scattered across the lawn.
A large, hand-painted sign that read “Free Stuff!” stood proudly in front of the chaos, inviting anyone passing by to help themselves to my belongings.
Furious, I kicked the sign over and immediately called Brendan.
“Why is my furniture on the lawn?” I demanded.
“You were going to sue for all my money anyway,” he said. “I heard you on the phone with someone. I know that you wanted everything. Or at least half of everything! So, you might as well know how it feels to lose what’s yours.”
Sure, I had thought about taking him for a ride and having my share of his money, but the weekend away with my parents taught me to just let it go.
“You’re absolutely unbelievable,” I yelled. “You think this is going to solve anything? You’re just making things worse for yourself.”
“Whatever. It’s your problem now,” he replied. “Maybe you should charge people for your things instead of letting them take it for free.”
I was speechless. I knew arguing with him was pointless, so I hung up.
I looked around at the furniture, thinking if I could ask a friend to store these things until I found a new place. That’s when my gaze landed on the bedside table, and I remembered what was there inside the drawer.
It was Brendan’s father’s prized watch.
It was a family heirloom that Brendan cherished, but now I had it hostage.
A few hours later, I was at a friend’s place who had helped me store the furniture in her garage and offered me a place to stay. We were having pizza when Brendan called, realizing he’d left the watch in the drawer.
“Please, Gina, I need the watch back,” he pleaded.
“The neighbors took the bedside tables,” I lied. “You might have to buy it back from them.”
After making him sweat, he eventually offered $500 to “buy it back.”
The next morning, he handed me an envelope, while I handed over the watch. I can never forget the defeated look on his face!
4. My Parents Spent All My College Fund Inheritance from Grandpa, but Karma Struck Back
After my grandfather passed, he left his entire inheritance to me for college, but the money was kept in my parents’ account until I turned 18.
When I checked at 19, the account was empty.
Furious, I confronted my parents and learned the truth: they had drained the funds to bail out my brother, who had squandered his finances on a luxury car and debts. Worse, they used the remaining money for a lavish house.
“How could you sacrifice my future for his mistakes?” I demanded, devastated by their betrayal.
My parents offered weak excuses, prioritizing my brother over my dreams. I can’t explain how abandoned and betrayed I felt.
As a result, I cut off contact with them and worked toward my career. I got a job, found a grant, and enrolled in another university. As years passed, I became financially stable and even started paying for my own house.
Then, karma struck.
I was in my office when I received a call from my brother.
“Can we meet?” he asked. “Please don’t say no.”
I hesitated, but curiosity got the better of me. When we finally met, he was unexpectedly warm, still, I remained skeptical. It wasn’t long before he asked me for money to help our parents.
It turned out that my parents’ house investment had collapsed, leaving them in debt. I knew this was karma doing its job, but I didn’t feel good. I felt bad because they were my parents, and I still loved them.
So, I decided to visit them. I still remember how they broke down in tears and begged for forgiveness. They had realized what they had done, so I forgave them.
5. My Husband Cheated on Me With Secretary, Then Karma Crushed Him Back
My husband Brody and I met at work, and we continued with the same jobs after our wedding. I always thought working with him in the same office was so cool until I caught him cheating with his secretary, Lila.
I still remember how I couldn’t even move when I caught him caressing her legs in front of everyone at the office. My heart sank as I realized how publicly he was flaunting his affair.
“Brody, what’s going on here?” I confronted him.
He didn’t even flinch.
“We’re discussing work,” he said, with Lila smirking beside him.
“By putting your hands up her skirt?” I asked, looking straight into his eyes. “In front of everyone?”
“Don’t make a scene, Shirley,” he snapped. “You should be grateful I’m still coming home. But I’m done. I’m filing for divorce, and I’ll take the house. You deserve nothing.”
I was too shocked to react. I just quietly watched him walk away with Lila.
That night, I didn’t have the guts to go home. Instead, I sat in a cheap hotel room, crying and questioning everything.
Was this really my life? I thought. How did I let it get this bad?
The next morning, I dragged myself to work, dreading the looks I knew I’d get from my coworkers. Sure enough, their gazes were filled with pity.
I wanted to disappear, to resign and leave it all behind. But I couldn’t.
The thought of not finding another job scared me. I had bills to pay, and starting over wasn’t something I could afford. Little did I know that fate would soon turn my life in a better direction.
A few days later, the company hired a new boss, Mr. Anderson. Word spread fast that he was sharp, no-nonsense, and talented. As a result, everyone kept their head down and focused on work.
Then came the bombshell. Brody was fired.
It turned out he had been skimming money from the company for months, manipulating the finances in ways he thought no one would ever notice. But Mr. Anderson spotted the discrepancies almost immediately.
Brody’s arrogance had finally caught up with him, and the man who flaunted his affair so proudly was now out of a job.
I won’t lie, I felt a small sense of satisfaction. Karma had done its job, and I hadn’t even lifted a finger. But the story doesn’t end here.
Brody showed up at my door a few weeks after that. He mumbled something about making mistakes and how he missed me. He wanted back into my life, but I stood firm.
“No, Brody,” I said sternly. “You made your choices, and now you have to live with them. I’m done.”
And with that, I closed the door in his face, feeling stronger than I had in years.
Neighbors Made Me Put up a Fence to Hide an ‘Ugly’ Car in My Yard – A Week Later, They Begged Me to Remove It
I didn’t quite see my neighbors’ vintage ’67 Chevy Impala the same way, but to me it was more than just a rusty heap. What was supposed to be a fight over a “eyesore” developed into something none of us saw coming. It altered our peaceful suburban street in ways we never would have imagined.
My dad left me an ancient, beat-up 1967 Chevy Impala. I saw it as a project I wanted to restore and a reminder of my father, even though most people just saw it as a rusted automobile. My garage was piled high with tools and spare components, so the automobile sat in my yard. I’d been trying to save money and find time to work on it, but I knew it looked awful.
But my neighbors were far more concerned about this than I was. I was out inspecting the Impala one bright afternoon when I suddenly remembered something. Gus, my dad, was demonstrating how to change the oil. He smiled, his thick mustache twitching. “You see, Nate? It isn’t complicated science. Simply perseverance and hard work,” he had stated. A piercing voice jolted me back to reality as I was lost in thinking as I ran my fingers over the worn paint. A man leaning against a vintage car’s front end.
Please pardon me, Nate. Could we discuss about that? I turned to see my next-door neighbor, Karen, pointing disgustingly at the Impala. Hello, Karen. What’s going on?” Knowing where this was going, I asked.”That vehicle. It is aesthetically offensive. With crossed arms, she remarked, “It’s destroying the appearance of our street.” I exhaled. “I realize it appears rough right now, but I intend to fix it. It was my dad’s, but Karen cut him off, saying, “I don’t care whose it was.” It must be removed. or at the very least remain unseen. She pivoted and marched back to her house before I could reply.
As I watched her leave, I noticed a knot in my stomach. I vented to my girlfriend Heather over dinner later that night. “Do you think she’s real? “It seems as though she is unaware of the significance this car holds for me,” I remarked, picking at my salad. Squeezing my hand, Heather reached across the table. “I understand, sweetie. However, would you try working on it a little bit more quickly? simply to demonstrate to them your progress? I nodded, but I knew in my heart that it wasn’t that easy. Time was of the essence, and parts were costly.
When I returned home a week later, I discovered a notice from the city hidden beneath the wiper on my “offending” car. As I read it, my stomach fell. The general idea was to either remove the car or conceal it behind a fence. I clenched the piece of paper in my hand, feeling a surge of rage within. This was absurd. I required guidance. I picked up my friend Vince, who also loves cars. “Hey, buddy, have a moment? I’d like your opinion on something. Okay, what’s going on? Vince’s voice came across the phone crackling. I described the circumstances, becoming more irritated as I spoke. Before he spoke, Vince was silent for a while.
He spoke carefully and added, “Build the fence, but add a twist.” “What do you mean?” I curiously inquired.”You’ll discover. This weekend, I’ll be here. This will provide for some enjoyable times. Vince arrived that weekend with a truck full of paint and wood. For the next two days, we worked on erecting a towering fence to enclose my front yard. Vince told me about his strategy as we worked together. “We’re going to decorate this fence with a mural of the Impala. Every rust mark, every ding. We’ll make sure they remember the car if they decide to hide it. Loved the idea, I smiled. “Let’s get started.”On Sunday, we painted. Even though none of us was artistic, we were able to replicate the Impala on the fence really well.
For added effect, we even made some of the flaws seem worse. I was satisfied with my work when we took a step back to admire it. I decided to find out what the neighbors thought of this. It didn’t take me long to learn. There came a knock on my door the following afternoon. When I opened it, a cluster of neighbors surrounding Karen as she stood there. Their expressions were a peculiar mix of desperation and rage. “Nate, we need to talk about the fence,” Karen said in a tight voice. Hiding my delight, I leaned against the doorframe. How about it? I followed your instructions.
The automobile is now hidden.An older man called Frank, one of the other neighbors, raised his voice. We understand that we requested you to conceal the car, but this mural is simply too much, son. I arched an eyebrow. “Too much? In what way? Karen let out a deep sigh. “It’s more awful than the car itself. It appears as though you’ve transformed your entire yard into… “A show of art?” Unable to control my sarcasm, I made a suggestion. “A disgrace,” Karen firmly concluded. “We would prefer to see the actual car instead of this… monstrosity.”Maybe a little too much, I enjoyed their anguish as I crossed my arms. Now, allow me to clarify. You made me spend money on a fence after complaining about my automobile, and now you want me to pull it down? They all gave bashful nods.
After giving it some thinking, I decided to remove the fence—but only under one condition. As long as I’m working on fixing the car, you guys promise to quit whining about it. Alright?They glanced at one another before grudgingly agreeing. I could hear them whispering to each other as they left. I started tearing down the fence the following day. Some of my neighbors were seeing me work with interest. Even Tom, one of them, stopped over to talk. “I never really looked at that car before, Nate,” he remarked, pointing to the Impala. However, after getting a closer look, I can see that it has potential. Which year is it?I grinned, always up for a conversation about the car. It’s a 1967. When I was a little child, my dad purchased it. Tom gave a grateful nod. Good. My brother has a thing for vintage autos.
In the event that you require assistance with the restoration, I might contact him. I took aback at the offer. That would be fantastic. Regards, Tom. In the ensuing weeks, word of my initiative grew. To my astonishment, a number of neighborhood auto aficionados began dropping by to examine the Impala and provide guidance or assistance. I was working on the engine one Saturday morning when I heard a familiar voice behind me. “So, this is the well-known vehicle, huh?” I turned to see Karen standing there, intrigued yet seeming uneasy. I wiped my hands with a cloth and remarked, “Yep, this is her.” Karen moved in closer, staring at the motor. “I must admit that my knowledge of autos is quite limited.
How are you spending your time? Startled by her curiosity, I gave the bare outline of the project I was working on. More neighbors flocked around to listen and ask questions while we conversed. My yard quickly became the scene of an unplanned block party. A cooler full of drinks was brought out, and individuals started talking about their early automotive experiences or their recollections of owning vintage automobiles. I was surrounded by my neighbors as the sun was setting, and we were all conversing and laughing. Karen seems to be having fun as well. Looking at the Impala in the lovely evening light, it seemed better than ever, while still being rusty and battered up.
I couldn’t help but think about how much my father would have enjoyed this scene.Speaking to the group, I remarked, “You know, my dad always said a car wasn’t just a machine.” It was a narrative reimagined. Considering how many stories this old girl has brought out today, I believe he would be quite pleased. There were lifted glasses and murmurs of agreement. I noticed something as I turned to face my neighbors, who were now my pals. Despite all of the difficulty it had caused, this car had ultimately brought us all together. Though the restoration was still a long way off, I sensed that the voyage ahead would be much more pleasurable. Who knows?
Perhaps a whole neighborhood full of vintage vehicle lovers would be eager to go for a drive by the time the Impala was ready to hit the road. I lifted my cup. “To wonderful cars and good neighbors,” I uttered. Everyone applauded, and while I was surrounded by smiles and lively chatter, it occurred to me that sometimes the greatest restorations involve more than simply automobiles. They also care about the community. How would you have responded in that situation?
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