I cooked up a nasty plan. One night, I waited until everyone was asleep. I quietly tiptoed upstairs and started putting my plan into action.

First, I turned off the WiFi router and hid it in the basement. Knowing he was job hunting, I figured this would cut off his main connection to the outside world. Then, I went to the kitchen and took all the coffee, tea, and any other caffeinated drinks. I also gathered all the snacks and hid them in my car.

The next morning, he came downstairs, looking confused and frustrated. “Hey, where’s the WiFi?” he demanded.

“I don’t know,” I replied nonchalantly. “It must be down. And by the way, I cleaned out the pantry. I needed to make space for some new groceries.”

He scowled but said nothing, heading back upstairs. I could hear him grumbling as he searched for a signal.

That night, I turned up the thermostat to an uncomfortable 85 degrees. He came down sweating and irate, demanding I fix the air conditioning.

“I’m afraid it’s broken,” I lied. “I called a repairman, but he won’t be able to come for a week.”

The next day, I got creative. I started playing loud, obnoxious music at odd hours, making it impossible for him to relax or sleep. I also invited some friends over and told them to be as noisy as possible, under the guise of a welcome home party.

By the fourth day, he was a wreck. He was exhausted, irritable, and clearly regretting his decision to squat in my house. I could see him wavering, but he was still stubbornly holding on.
That night, I made my final move. I went to a costume shop and bought a creepy clown costume. I put it on and waited until 3 AM. Then, I started making eerie noises outside his door, scratching and tapping. I even whispered in a low, menacing voice, “You shouldn’t be here.”
The next morning, he was pale and jumpy, his eyes darting around nervously. He came downstairs with his bags packed, finally breaking.

“Fine, I’m leaving,” he snapped. “This place is unbearable.”

“Good,” I said calmly, watching as he stormed out of the house. Once he was gone, I locked the door behind him and called my sister, explaining everything.

She was horrified and apologized profusely. We agreed that she wouldn’t let anyone stay at my house without my explicit permission ever again.

I took some extra precautions, installing new locks and a security system. The peace and quiet of my home felt even sweeter, knowing I had taken matters into my own hands and reclaimed my space from the unwanted intruder.