When an entitled couple refused to pay my Dad—a hardworking plumber—for a full bathroom remodel, they thought they were pulling a fast one. What they didn’t know? My dad doesn’t get mad. He gets creative.Hey, I’m Phoebe—Pippi to my dad, Pete. He’s 55, silver-bearded, and built like a wrench. Every job he does is done right, no shortcuts. So when the Carlyles tried stiffing him for half his pay after approving every tile and fixture themselves, he was stunned… and not about to let it slide.

They told him to finish and get lost. So, he did. But before he left, he mixed the grout with sugar and honey instead of water.Weeks later? Their bathroom turned into a five-star resort for ants, cockroaches, and everything in between.They called pest control. Sprayed. Scrubbed. Redid the grout. Nothing worked. Why? That sugary surprise was baked in deep.

A year later, they were still battling bugs—fancy dinner parties ruined, guests screaming at the sight of roaches. My dad? Sitting on the porch with a cigar and a grin.Sometimes,” he told me, “karma just needs a little plumbing.”And just like that, the Carlyles learned: never mess with a man who knows how to ruin your bathroom… sweetly.