Jack couldn’t just walk all over me—I decided to get revenge. And I had the perfect plan in mind.
I rummaged through my brother’s closet.

“Hmm, this could work,” I muttered to myself.

A pair of jeans, a hoodie, and a cap. “Just need to do the hair… there we go.” I tied my hair back tightly and tucked it under the cap. Next, I put on a wig that matched Michael’s hair color perfectly. Gosh, suddenly, I became a total copy of my twin brother!

“Almost there… just need to nail his mannerisms.”

I practiced in front of the mirror, imitating Michael’s walk and gestures.

“Hey, Jack, what’s up?” I said, trying to match my brother’s tone. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“Alright, Sara,” I whispered to myself. “It’s time to become karma itself.”

Little did I know, that only two words would turn this plan into a disaster, making me regret it forever.

My brother had a reputation for being a bit of a prankster, and Jack, our neighbor, had been his latest victim. Jack wasn’t just going to let it slide, and I was tired of Michael not facing any consequences. So, I decided to give Jack a taste of his own medicine by impersonating Michael and getting him into trouble.
I walked over to Jack’s house, exuding Michael’s swagger. Jack was outside, working on his bike. As soon as he saw me, his face twisted into a scowl.

“Hey, Jack, need a hand?” I asked, making sure to keep my tone casual.

“What do you want, Michael?” Jack spat, not even looking up.

“I just thought you might need some help,” I said, leaning against the fence.

Jack narrowed his eyes. “Since when do you help anyone?”

I shrugged. “Just trying to make up for last time, you know? No hard feelings.”

Jack eyed me suspiciously but seemed to relax a bit. “Fine, whatever.”

I spent the next half hour helping Jack with his bike, throwing in some of Michael’s signature jokes and mannerisms. Finally, when Jack seemed to be buying the act completely, I saw my opportunity.

“So, Jack,” I said, casually wiping my hands on my jeans, “I heard you were planning something big. Care to share?”
Jack hesitated for a moment, then smirked. “Alright, why not? But you have to promise not to tell anyone.”
I crossed my fingers behind my back. “You have my word.”

Jack leaned in and whispered, “Tonight, I’m going to toilet paper Mrs. Jenkins’ house.”

I stifled a laugh. This was perfect. Mrs. Jenkins was our nosy neighbor who had a habit of calling the cops for the smallest disturbances. Jack would definitely get in trouble for this.

“Sounds like a plan,” I said, trying to keep my excitement in check. “Need any help?”

“Nah, I got it covered. But thanks, man,” Jack said, patting my back.

As I walked away, I couldn’t help but grin. Jack was about to get a taste of his own medicine, and Michael would finally learn a lesson. Or so I thought.

***

That night, I waited in the shadows, watching Jack sneak up to Mrs. Jenkins’ house with rolls of toilet paper in hand. Just as he started throwing the first roll, I stepped out of the shadows and shouted, “Hey, Jack! What are you doing?”

Jack froze, dropping the roll. “Michael, what the hell?”

I smirked. “Just wanted to make sure you weren’t chickening out.”

“Get lost, Michael! You’re going to ruin everything!” Jack hissed.

Before I could respond, the porch light flicked on, and Mrs. Jenkins stepped outside with a bat. “Who’s there?” she shouted.

Panic set in as I realized my plan was about to backfire spectacularly. Jack bolted, leaving me standing there in Michael’s clothes, with Mrs. Jenkins glaring at me.

“Michael!” she yelled. “I knew you were trouble!”

“No, wait, Mrs. Jenkins, it’s not what it looks like!” I tried to explain, but she wasn’t listening.

She called the cops, and before I knew it, I was being escorted home by two officers, explaining to them and my parents that I was not, in fact, Michael. My parents were livid, and Michael was furious at me for impersonating him.

But the worst part? Jack had seen the whole thing and now had even more ammunition to torment me with.

In trying to teach Michael a lesson, I ended up learning one myself: revenge has a way of backfiring, and sometimes, it’s best to just let things be.