Writes Catherine in Melbourne: “I was preparing breakfast in the office kitchen when I opened the fridge and reached for the margarine tub to butter my toast. Ten seconds later, I was fearing for my life.”
“How low do you have to go to steal flowers from someone’s grave?” wonders Ash in East Lansing, Michigan.
At the very least, I suppose, you’ve have to be someone untroubled by the prospect of being publicly chided or privately haunted. In Providence, Rhode Island, Moira noticed that the flowers at this memorial had very recently been dug up again.
Writes Jenny in San Diego: “There are four of these identical laminated signs posted at face height around the tiny front lawn of a house in my neighborhood. The lawn actually would look fine if it weren’t for the rude signs.”
Several months ago, Kenney in Sydney moved in with some new housemates. Last week, he happened to park in a different spot in the driveway. (“We had been asked to not park in the garage as it was used as a gym/personal trainer studio.”)
“The next morning,” he says, “I found this ‘anonymous’ note — despite having just talked with the person responsible, without any mention of their concern.” By way of a response, Kenney decided to give the note the red pen treatment.
"When fridge thieves die, they join a circle of hell where, in the grandest Sisyphean style, they do a long day's work , get hungry as hell, go to grab their food, and it's gone! On some, especially hellish days, their food will be there, but someone will take it out of their hands right as they are about to take the first bite."