This is kinda gross and maybe childish but I could have done far worse. At the time I was living in a three story apartment building. I had been living there for maybe two years with my wife and small child. My marriage ended up falling apart and my wife moved out. Things were understandably tense but we were able to set a custody agreement. It was 50/50 with set days during the week and alternating weekends. It was going relatively well although the divorce overall was not.

Things really turned south when I was told by a friend that during times when I had my son my soon to be ex-wife was parking around the block and coming to the apartment building. Of course this did not sit well. I then learned that she was visiting the gentleman that lived on the third floor while I lived on the ground floor. This insult could not go unanswered.

The revenge came one weekend when my son was supposed to be with his mother. I had several friends come over and had a friend in another unit. The raucous party drifted up and down the stairs. Everyone was thoroughly inebriated. Now again, this ‘other man' was on the third floor. I knew that he worked at his father's asphalt business and had a pair of heavy duty rubber boots. He unwisely kept these boots on a mat outside his door.

Through the inspiration that can only come from alcohol, I had an idea. I stealthily went to his door and grabbed one of the boots. I then brought my trophy back to the party taking place in my apartment. I took the boot into the bathroom and set it on the floor next to the toilet. I returned to the living room and made an announcement. I told everyone that if they needed to use the bathroom they were welcome to use the toilet or the boot belonging to Shithead, my affectionate nickname for my neighbor. After a short period of time, I carried the now heavier boot upstairs and placed it back on the mat. The party then continued for the rest of the night.

The next day, I returned home after running some errands. Once inside the building I saw a wet sock hanging on the stair railing. I felt a huge grin cross my face and went home satisfied.

Epilogue:

She ended up marrying him and starting a new family. Her and I have learned to get along rather well. Me and Shithead have rarely spoken, and only out of great necessity, over the past 15 years.

To commenters:

Some people may lack the life experience to fully grasp the context so I will spell it out in simple, crude words. When you find out your wife has been fucking your neighbor while you and your baby son are 20ft away, pissing in the guy’s boots is among the more restrained options. You can lay down your naive, boy scout judgement when you have a clue what that is like.

You can be assured that other things were done that drove his decision to move before I did.