**Payback for a Joke**
Fifteen years together. By all appearances, they were a perfectly ordinary family from Manchester: Steven and Alice, with their two children, Oliver and Emily. Tight-knit, kind-hearted, well-liked by friends—everyone called them the model couple. They lived harmoniously, without loud arguments, treating each other with warmth and respect. It seemed happiness had settled in their home for good.
Steven was the life of the party, a natural prankster. His passion? Practical jokes—not just harmless ones, but the kind that could make your hair stand on end.
He’d wrap a lump of clay in a sweet wrapper, matching the colour and shape perfectly. Or replace the cream in biscuits with toothpaste. His favourite trick was pouring soy sauce into a fizzy drink bottle, pretending it was lemonade. Once, he even swapped the filling of chocolates with clay. He’d laugh until tears streamed down his face—while his victims rarely found it as amusing.
“Steve, please,” Alice would beg. “Not today. Let’s just get through our anniversary without one of your stunts.”
“Fine, I swear—no pranks tonight, just celebration,” he promised on the day of their crystal wedding anniversary.
The house buzzed with preparations. Alice cooked in the kitchen while the children decorated the living room. Steven was handed a long shopping list and dashed off to the supermarket. He returned two hours later—only to find his parking spot taken by a stranger’s car.
Grumbling, he left a note for the “offender” and parked farther away. The bags were heavy, but he hurried—without these groceries, the party wouldn’t come together.
He reached the door, fumbled for his keys—but they wouldn’t turn. Sweat prickled his neck. The doorbell chimed in a strange tone, different from the usual cheerful jingle. The door swung open—
And there stood a woman he’d never seen before, in a dressing gown and curlers.
“Finally! We’ve been calling every shop in town! Where’s the food?” she snapped.
Steven froze.
A burly, cheerful man named Robert appeared behind her.
“Maggie, love, this must be the delivery bloke.”
“How much do we owe you? Where’s the receipt?” Maggie was already rifling through the bags.
“I—I’m sorry,” Steven stammered. “This is my house. Elm Street, number 12, flat 17?”
“Exactly right,” Robert said. “We bought it five years ago—from a woman with two kids. Alice, I think her name was? Oliver and Emily, the children.”
Steven nearly dropped the shopping bags. His chest tightened. He pulled out his ID, pointed to the address. It was all correct—flat 17.
“Come in, have a look,” Maggie offered.
He stepped inside—and nothing was familiar. Different furniture, freshly painted walls. No trace of his life. His head spun. He slumped into a chair. Robert and Maggie’s kids burst in, laughing and chattering—around the same age his own would be. It all felt like a bad dream.
He grabbed his phone. Dialled Alice.
“Ali… what’s happening? Where are you? Why are strangers in our house?”
“Ali, love, you coming?” a man’s voice called in the background.
“Be right there, sweetheart!” Alice chirped. Then, into the phone, “Who is this?”
“Ali! It’s me, Steven!”
“Who? Steve? Are you joking? Five years without a word, and now—hello?”
“Five years?! I only went to the shops for two hours!”
“You left on our anniversary and vanished. Not a single message. I sold the flat—couldn’t manage alone. The kids grew up. We’ve moved on. I’m married now. We live in my husband’s house—”
“Wait—what are you saying?” His voice cracked. “Is this some kind of joke? Am I hallucinating?”
“No, Steve. You’ve spent years making *us* the punchline. Now you’ve had a taste of your own medicine.”
And then—Alice, the kids, neighbours, and friends flooded in, laughing and applauding.
“Surprise!” they shouted in unison.
Steven’s knees buckled. He scanned the room—all familiar faces. Like a scene from a play.
“It was a prank,” Alice confirmed. “Six months in the making. We wanted you to feel what it’s like—being on the receiving end for once.”
“You’re all—bloody mad,” he whispered, hands shaking as he fumbled for his valerian drops.
“Meet Robert and Maggie—actors from the local theatre. They played their parts brilliantly.”
“The doorbell? The lock?”
“Robert’s a handyman. Changed both—just for the act.”
“And the voice on the phone?”
“My brother Dave. He muffled his mouth with a scarf so you wouldn’t recognise him.”
Steven collapsed onto the sofa. Alice handed him a glass of water.
“Mum,” Oliver whispered, “d’you think we went too far?”
“I hope he finally understands how it feels,” Alice murmured. “I reckon the pranks will stop now.”
And he *did* understand. For good.
