I Got a Frantic Video Message from My Mom — I Was Shocked to Find Out What Dad Had Done to Her
While Annie was having a lazy Saturday, scrolling through social media, a video message from her mom popped up. As she hit play, she discovered that one of her father’s pranks had gone way too far—leaving her mother scared and locked in the basement. Furious, Annie rushed over to her parents’ house, ready to teach her father a lesson he wouldn’t forget.
I never imagined my dad would take one of his stupid pranks to such an extreme, but here we are. I was lounging on the couch, minding my business, when my phone lit up with a video message from my mom. At first, I thought it was just an odd tech slip-up. But after watching that message, my heart nearly stopped.
To give you some context, my dad is the ultimate old-school grump. He’s one of those guys who seems like he’s been stuck in a time capsule from the ’70s, never quite catching up with the present. He’s not a bad guy—just stubborn and difficult, preferring pranks over meaningful conversations. At home, instead of showing affection, he’d rather prank my mom with little tricks like hiding her glasses or misplacing her keys. Annoying, yes. Harmful? Not really.
But today, he crossed a line.
I was scrolling through TikTok when the video message came through. The thumbnail was black, but I could hear my mom’s voice—shaky and muffled like she was whispering in fear. That’s when I knew something wasn’t right. My mom never sends video messages, and frankly, I didn’t even know she knew how. I tapped play and found her crouched in a corner, whispering urgently into the phone.
“Annie,” she said, barely audible, “your dad locked me in the basement… as a joke. He thinks it’s funny, but I’m scared. Can you come get me? I think there are rats down here.”
My blood ran cold. Locked her in the basement? For a laugh?
I tried calling her back, but it went straight to voicemail. Panic surged as I texted her with no response. My mom’s always been tough and independent, but she’s terrified of the dark and confined spaces. And now, thanks to one of Dad’s ridiculous pranks, she was stuck in a basement, unreachable. He’d gone too far this time.
I grabbed my keys and bolted out of my apartment. I live about 20 minutes from my parents’ house, but I swear, I made it there in 12.
As I pulled up to the house, I didn’t even bother knocking. I used my spare key and let myself in. From the living room, I could hear the TV blaring—typical Dad, watching football and eating dinner without a care in the world. Meanwhile, my mom was still locked downstairs. I headed straight for the basement, finding the door locked with the key hanging right beside it. I quickly unlocked it and called out softly.
“Mom, it’s me.”
“Oh, thank God,” she whispered from the other side.
I opened the door, and she stepped out, looking more exhausted than angry. But I could see it in her eyes—she wanted payback. And I had a plan.
“You know Dad’s still in the living room, right?” I said. “Completely unaware I’m even here.”
“Good,” she replied. “Let him enjoy it while it lasts.”
My dad’s most prized possession in the world, besides his steak dinners and football games, is his electric recliner—a ridiculous throne with heated seats, massage features, and USB ports. He spent a fortune on it, and it’s practically sacred to him. Naturally, this was where I’d hit him.
I told Mom the plan, and we both stifled our laughter as we crept toward the living room. There he was, glued to the TV, oblivious. I quietly unplugged his beloved chair from the wall, then pulled out a tube of super glue and smeared it over the buttons. Still, he didn’t notice a thing.
Mom and I returned to the kitchen, nibbling on cookies and waiting for the chaos to unfold.
Ten minutes later, halftime hit, and we could hear Dad trying to recline his chair. Nothing happened. I heard him grunt and push harder. Still nothing. Finally, I heard him curse, tugging at the armrests—only to realize his hands were stuck.
“What the heck?!” he grumbled, panic starting to set in.
Mom calmly walked into the living room. “Something wrong with your precious chair, Frank?”
He glared at her. “The darn thing’s broken! How did you—wait, how did you get out of the basement?”
“Annie,” Mom replied coolly.
I stepped into the doorway, phone in hand, recording the whole scene. “Smile for the camera, Dad. This is going straight into the family group chat.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” he shouted, still trying to free his glued hands.
“Oh, but I would,” I said, sending the video with one tap.
Mom and I watched as the replies flooded in. Dad was livid—he hated being exposed like this, especially beyond the tough façade he put up.
“We’re going to stay at my place for the weekend,” I told him. “You can figure out how to unstick yourself from your throne.”
Mom packed an overnight bag, and we left Dad to deal with the mess he’d made. I had a feeling he wouldn’t be locking anyone in the basement anytime soon.
What would you have done in my situation? If you liked this story, here’s another one for you: My Husband ‘Accidentally’ Locked Me in the Basement So He Could Watch Basketball with His Friends…