12 People Who Look Like They’re Meditating But Are Actually Plotting Their Enemies’ Downfall

A syringe through the foil creates a covertly poisoned yogurt. One with Oreo sprinkles. Or perhaps a fruity swirl to cover up the bitter taste of poison most foul.

All she’d have to do is disable some safety settings and sabotage the espresso steamer. Then, it’s a double-shot of scalding mist to the face and eye area.

A cash withdrawal and a greased garbage truck driver’s palm, and he’ll learn that it’s “parallel” parking, not “perpendicular” parking. Who’s at fault, really, when he makes it so easy to hit?

She’ll send a dummy package to the buyer, and instead of the vintage lampshade she’s expecting, when they open the box, boom! A steak knife on a long spring, right into their heart.

He’s going to mail him a single bullet with "From Farty Marty” etched onto it, and he’s fine with the no-knock warrant it’ll produce.

The only loud thud she wants to hear is his lifeless form dropping to his floor, not the basketball he likes to dribble inside for some reason.

Yeesh. Guy really did a number on him. Not even going to write out what’s going on in that head.

The city won’t issue him a new one because, in their words, “Sack up, man.” They don’t know how sharp his little hands are! As for the plan, it’s just “get a hose.”

She’s seeing a spilled red substance, and it’s not in useless, one-hundredth of a milliliter portions. She’ll dip a fry in the arterial spray, and enjoy her deed done.

Scootch over, lady! Make some room for the rest of us!

Uh, appreciate the effort, but the guy’s long gone. Somebody get him on Google. Did he tune in halfway through a documentary and think that was going on now?

That feeling you had wasn’t misguided, there’s a group of seniors who really want you to fail, for some reason. I asked them why, but they wouldn’t tell me, and I didn’t want them to switch to me, so I left it there. Sorry!