AITA for throwing a stone trough my ex' window
When my ex and I broke up, I thought the drama had finally packed its little emotional suitcase and left town. I moved into my new L.A. apartment with my new girlfriend, bought overpriced oat milk for my cat, hung one abstract painting I pretended to understand, and most importantly, brought home the true king of the household: Tammy Thomas, a cat of noble origin, questionable judgment, and the emotional range of a retired British judge.
For a while, life was peaceful.
Too peaceful.
Then one evening, I came home and immediately knew something was wrong. The apartment had that strange energy, like my mother had been through therapy in there. The window was open. A chair was knocked over. My girlfriend was standing in the living room holding a long baguette.
And Tammy Thomas was gone.
At first, I panicked. Then I checked the security camera. And there she was: my ex entering trough the front door with a spare key, whispering, “Come here, Tammy,” while holding a can of tuna and wearing sunglasses indoors.
But the real horror came moments later.
There, sitting proudly in MY SINK, was a “present.” Not from the cat. From mother nature. From her.
I stared at it. My girlfriend stared at it. The sink stared back, and IT stared at us.
Now a few days later, originally, I just wanted to get Sir Tammy Thomas VII back because, frankly, my ex cannot take care of cats (he is number 7). The saddest passing was with number 4: she burned him because she tripped whilst walking with a candle.
So I marched outside to her house, found a rock, and said, “This is for Tammy. This is for the sink."
Then I dramatically threw it through her garden window.
Five minutes later, Sir Tammy Thomas VII walked back into my apartment on his own, looking completely unbothered, wearing a tiny ribbon and smelling like tuna.
He had escaped both of us.
Honestly? He was the only adult in the situation.
I also stole her sink.