Coming home from a brutal hospital shift, all I craved was a hot shower and quiet. Instead, I found a toothpick jammed in my front door lock, stopping my key cold. When it happened again the next night, I skipped the police and set a trap to catch the prankster, turning their game into my victory.
As a nurse, I’m used to handling emergencies, but a stuck lock after a 14-hour shift pushed me to my limit. I tried everything—twisting the key, poking with a bobby pin, even muttering at the door like it could hear me. Then I saw it: a toothpick, deliberately shoved in the keyhole. This wasn’t random.
I called my brother, Alex, who arrived with a toolbox and a raised eyebrow. “Someone’s targeting you,” he said, carefully removing the toothpick with tweezers. My key worked, and I hoped it was a one-off, maybe bored teenagers. Alex shook his head. “This is intentional. Call me if it happens again.”
The next night, another toothpick. I texted Alex, who showed up grumbling but intrigued. “Let’s catch this jerk,” he said, suggesting a security camera. He set up a battered old one in a tree by my porch, linking it to my phone. “You’ll see whoever’s doing this,” he promised, heading home.
That evening, I glued my eyes to my phone. At 7:20 p.m., a video alert showed my ex, Ryan, creeping up with a toothpick. Ryan, who I’d dumped after his “work friend” turned out to be more, was messing with my lock. I watched the footage, shocked at his audacity.
Instead of the police, I called my friend Nate, a burly mechanic with a flair for drama. “Toothpicks? That’s low,” he said, already scheming. We’d dated briefly but stayed buddies, always up for a good prank. “Let’s scare him,” Nate said, his plan making me laugh.
The next night, I faked leaving, shouting about plans while parking nearby. I sneaked back through my neighbor’s yard, finding Nate in my pink bathrobe, barely covering his tattoos. “Showtime,” he grinned. We watched the camera until Ryan appeared, toothpick in hand. Nate swung the door open, waving a wrench. “Surprise, toothpick boy!” he yelled.
Ryan’s face went white, and he sprinted off, stumbling. I chased after, shouting, “Ryan, what’s your deal?” He admitted he hoped I’d call him for help, thinking it would rekindle things. “That’s pathetic,” I said. Nate told him to beat it, and Ryan vanished into the night.
I posted the video on TikTok: “My ex sabotaged my lock. Here’s how we got him.” It went viral, hitting millions of views. Ryan emailed, whining about his reputation. I sent the video to his boss, who was the father of his “friend.” Ryan was soon jobless. Alex changed my locks, and Nate brought pizza to celebrate. My phone kept buzzing with views. A toothpick started it, but a viral post finished it.
