I Got a Frantic Video Message from My Mom — I Was Shocked to Find Out What Dad Had Done to Her
While Annie was enjoying a lazy Saturday, scrolling through social media, an unexpected video message from her mom appeared. As she hit play, she discovered one of her dad’s notorious pranks had gone way too far—this time, leaving her mother scared and locked in the basement. Furious, Annie rushed to her parents’ house, ready to teach her father a lesson he’d never forget.
I never thought my dad would take one of his silly pranks this far, but here we are. I was lounging on the couch, minding my own business, when my phone lit up with a video message from my mom. At first, I figured it was some sort of tech glitch. But after watching the video, my heart nearly stopped.
For some background, my dad’s your classic old-school prankster—stubborn, a little grumpy, and always stuck in his ways. He’s not a bad guy, just someone who’d rather pull silly stunts than have a serious conversation. Growing up, he’d prank my mom by hiding her glasses or moving her keys—annoying but harmless. Today, though, he crossed a line.
I was scrolling through TikTok when the video message came in. The thumbnail was dark, but I could hear my mom’s voice—shaky and whispering, like she was afraid. That’s when I knew something was seriously wrong. My mom never sends video messages, and to be honest, I didn’t even think she knew how. I tapped play and saw her huddled in a corner, whispering into the phone.
“Annie,” she said, her voice 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 immediately tried calling her back, but it went straight to voicemail. Panic surged as I texted her, but got no response. My mom is tough, but she’s always been terrified of the dark and enclosed spaces. And now, thanks to one of my dad’s ridiculous pranks, she was stuck in the basement, unreachable. He had really crossed the line this time.
I grabbed my keys and bolted out of my apartment. My parents live about 20 minutes away, but I’m sure I made it there in 12.
When I pulled up to the house, I didn’t 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 without a care in the world. Meanwhile, my mom was still locked downstairs. I headed straight for the basement and found the door locked, with the key hanging conveniently next to it. I quickly unlocked the door and called out softly.
“Mom, it’s me.”
“Oh, thank goodness,” she whispered as she stepped out.
She looked more drained than angry, but I could see it in her eyes—she was ready for payback. And I had just the plan.
“You know Dad’s still sitting in the living room, right?” I asked. “Completely unaware I’m even here.”
“Perfect,” she said. “Let him enjoy his game while he can.”
My dad’s most prized possession in the world—besides football and steak dinners—is his fancy electric recliner. This chair is ridiculous—heated seats, massage features, USB ports—you name it, it has it. He spent a fortune on it, and he’s obsessed. Naturally, this was the perfect place to strike.
I shared my plan with Mom, and we could barely contain our laughter as we tiptoed toward the living room. There he was, glued to the game, completely oblivious. I carefully unplugged his beloved chair, then pulled out a tube of super glue and smeared it over the buttons. Still, he didn’t notice a thing.
Mom and I retreated to the kitchen, snacking on cookies and waiting for the show to begin.
Ten minutes later, halftime rolled around, and we heard Dad trying to recline. Nothing happened. I could hear him grunt and push harder. Still nothing. Then came the cursing and the sound of him tugging on the armrests—only to realize his hands were stuck.
“What the heck?!” he growled, panic creeping into his voice.
Mom calmly strolled into the living room. “Having trouble with your favorite chair, Frank?”
He shot her a glare. “The thing’s broken! Wait… how did you get out of the basement?”
“Annie,” Mom replied coolly.
I stepped into the doorway, phone in hand, recording the entire scene. “Smile for the family group chat, Dad.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” he shouted, still trying to free his hands.
“Oh, I would,” I said, sending the video with one tap.
Within minutes, the family chat exploded with replies. Dad was livid—he hated being exposed like this, especially beyond the tough-guy persona he always tried to maintain.
“We’re heading to my place for the weekend,” I told him, grabbing my bag. “You can figure out how to unstick yourself.”
Mom packed an overnight bag, and we left him to deal with the mess he had made. Something told me he wouldn’t be pulling any basement pranks again anytime soon.
What would you have done in my shoes? If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one: My Husband ‘Accidentally’ Locked Me in the Basement So He Could Watch Basketball with His Friends…