“Stucco Man” Takes Revenge 12 Times: The Padlock Pasting Saga Ends with the 13th Surprise
In a quiet suburban neighborhood, a peculiar tale of petty vengeance has unfolded over the past few months, earning one resident the nickname “Stucco Man.” What began as a seemingly trivial dispute between neighbors escalated into a bizarre campaign of retribution involving a tube of stucco, a padlock, and an unrelenting grudge. After successfully pasting his neighbor’s padlock shut twelve times, Stucco Man’s streak came to an abrupt end on his thirteenth attempt—when he found himself face-to-face with the police.
The Origins of a Sticky Feud
The story, as pieced together from local gossip and a few exasperated eyewitnesses, started with a disagreement over a shared fence line. Stucco Man, an otherwise unassuming middle-aged homeowner with a penchant for DIY repairs, allegedly took offense when his neighbor, 43-year-old landscaper Tom Grayson, trimmed a hedge that Stucco Man claimed was on his property. Grayson, in turn, installed a padlock on his gate to keep Stucco Man from “fixing” the hedge himself with his signature stucco patches.
What might have ended with a sternly worded note or a neighborhood mediation session instead spiraled into a silent war. Stucco Man, armed with a tube of industrial-grade stucco, began his revenge by sneaking over to Grayson’s gate under the cover of night and filling the padlock’s keyhole with the thick, pasty substance. By morning, Grayson found his lock cemented shut, forcing him to cut it off and replace it.
Twelve Triumphs of the Stucco Bandit
One might assume that a single act of padlock sabotage would suffice, but Stucco Man was not so easily satisfied. Over the next three months, he repeated the stunt eleven more times. Each incident followed a similar pattern: Grayson would replace the ruined padlock, only to find it filled with stucco a few nights later. Neighbors began to notice the cycle—Grayson’s muttered curses at dawn, the faint smell of drying stucco in the air, and Stucco Man’s smug silence as he sipped coffee on his porch.
“It was like clockwork,” said Linda Harper, who lives across the street. “Every few days, you’d see Tom out there with bolt cutters, shaking his head. We all knew who it was, but no one caught him in the act.”
Grayson reportedly tried everything to deter the stucco assailant: motion-sensor lights, a cheap security camera (which mysteriously stopped working after capturing a blurry figure in a hoodie), even a decoy padlock. Nothing worked. Stucco Man’s persistence was as unyielding as the material he wielded. By the twelfth attack, Grayson’s frustration had reached a boiling point, and he finally called the police.
The Thirteenth Strike: A Reckoning
On the night of March 24, 2025, Stucco Man crept out for what he likely thought would be another victorious pasting. The moon was obscured by clouds, the neighborhood silent save for the rustle of leaves. Tube in hand, he approached Grayson’s gate, ready to seal the latest padlock shut. But this time, he wasn’t alone.
Unbeknownst to Stucco Man, Grayson had tipped off the local police, who set up a discreet stakeout. As Stucco Man squeezed the stucco into the keyhole, flashlight beams cut through the darkness. “Drop the tube and put your hands up!” barked an officer. Caught red-handed—or rather, stucco-handed—Stucco Man froze, the tube slipping from his grip and landing with a soft thud on the grass.
“He just stood there, like he couldn’t believe it was over,” said Officer Rachel Patel, who was on the scene. “Twelve times he got away with it, but thirteen was his unlucky number.”
Aftermath and Reflection
Stucco Man, whose real name has not been released pending charges, now faces potential counts of vandalism and trespassing. Grayson, while relieved, expressed a mix of exhaustion and disbelief. “I just wanted him to stop,” he said, holding up the latest ruined padlock as evidence. “I didn’t think it’d take a sting operation to end this.”
The neighborhood, meanwhile, has found itself divided. Some see Stucco Man as a folk hero of sorts, a quirky rebel sticking it to an overzealous neighbor. Others view him as a petty nuisance whose antics wasted everyone’s time. “It’s the most excitement we’ve had around here in years,” Linda Harper admitted with a chuckle. “But I’m glad it’s done.”
As for Stucco Man, his reign of revenge has ended not with a bang, but with the clang of handcuffs. Whether he’ll return to his stucco-wielding ways remains to be seen—or perhaps he’ll find a new hobby in the confines of his home, far from Grayson’s gate. For now, the legend of the twelve padlocks lives on, a sticky testament to the lengths one man would go for retribution—until the thirteenth time, when justice finally caught up.
