https://www.facebook.com/112798708374519/

Pro Super VM, 927 Fidler Drive, San Antonio, TX (2026)

12/29/2025

🌳 A man once found a wounded baby gorilla deep in the forest. She was just a tiny thing, lying motionless in the soaked grass with an injured paw, her breath barely noticeable. He couldn’t ignore her — he gently wrapped her in his coat and carried her back to his home.
There he nursed the fragile creature, changing her bandages, feeding her from a bottle, warming her near the fire, and speaking to her as though she were his own child.
The gorilla quickly bonded with her rescuer, and he grew attached to her as well. For months they lived side by side, and she steadily grew — strong, imposing, yet with eyes full of softness.
But the law did not allow wild animals to be kept in a private home. One day neighbors saw the now-large gorilla through the window and reported what they’d witnessed.
The following day, animal control officers arrived. The man pleaded with them not to take her, insisting she posed no danger, but nothing could be changed.
They removed the gorilla, leaving the man alone in a quiet, empty house. He sat for hours beside her old cage, touching the rope she used to play with, tears running down his face as he struggled with the loss.
Time passed. The gorilla was transferred to a nearby zoo, where she adjusted quickly. The keepers were surprised by her calm nature and remarkable intelligence — she never acted aggressively and always observed people with deep curiosity.
Meanwhile, the man received a devastating diagnosis: brain cancer. It advanced swiftly, and doctors gave him almost no time — perhaps a month or two. He could barely move, ate little, and rarely spoke, but one wish stayed with him — to see the gorilla again before he died.
A local newspaper shared his story, and the zoo’s management, moved by his devotion, decided to honor his final request.
On the day of their reunion, the old man arrived on a stretcher, wrapped in a blanket. His breathing was shallow, his eyes half-closed, but he looked content. The staff opened the enclosure and carefully wheeled him inside. The gorilla sat in a corner with her back turned.
At the sound of a faint cough, she turned her head. For a moment she simply stared, as if trying to understand. Then she slowly approached, each step heavy and deliberate. The staff froze in silence.
They doubted she would remember him — so many years had gone by — and held tranquilizers ready just in case.
The gorilla reached the old man, leaned her head to the side, and then did something that left everyone stunned 😨😱 Read more in Comment or Most relevant -> All Comments 🗨️

12/28/2025

🤷 The morning after my husband's funeral, I returned home to find my father-in-law changing the locks. "Only bl00d relatives live here," he coldly announced. I looked at him and whispered one sentence that made his entire family's faces go pale.
The house felt wrong. Colder. Just hours ago, it had been filled with the somber murmur of mourners paying respects to my husband, Mark, a firefighter who had died a hero. Now, the silence wasn't peaceful; it was hostile.
That’s when I heard it. The distinct, metallic click-clack of a lock being changed. Mark’s father, Mr. Miller, stood there, a locksmith packing away his tools beside him. Mr. Miller’s face was a mask of cold, unreadable granite. He didn’t meet my eyes.
"What… what are you doing?" I stammered, confusion momentarily piercing through the fog of my grief.
From the living room, Mark’s mother and brother emerged. They were carrying cardboard boxes, roughly tossing my clothes, my books, the small personal effects of my life with Mark, into them.
"This is my home…" My voice was a weak whisper.
Mr. Miller finally looked at me, his gaze devoid of any sympathy, any shared sorrow for the son he had just buried. "The house belongs to the Miller family now, Sarah," he stated, his voice flat, final. "Only bl00d relatives. Your time here is up."
Blood relatives. The words struck me with the force of a physical blow. I had been married to Mark for five years. But in the cold calculus of his family, I was suddenly nothing. An outsider. Disposable.
I stood frozen, watching them dismantle my life with a chilling efficiency. A wave of impotent rage surged through me, followed by a crushing despair. I wanted to scream, to fight. But I was paralyzed.
I sank onto the bottom step of the staircase, the cold wood seeping through my black dress. I looked up at Mr. Miller. I didn't cry. The shock was too deep for tears. My voice was barely audible, a ragged whisper. "You forgot one thing..." Read more in Comment or Most relevant -> All Comments 🗨️

12/28/2025

💿 I showed up at my daughter’s house without warning — and what I saw stopped me cold. Her husband and mother-in-law sat at the table eating comfortably, while my daughter stood at the sink, washing dishes with shaking hands in a freezing kitchen. Then her husband snapped, lifting his plate. “Enough with the dishes. Bring the rest of the food.”
I didn’t say a word.
I quietly took out my phone and made a call.
Five minutes later, everything shifted — and nothing ever went back to the way it was.
I hadn’t planned to visit Laura that afternoon. I almost never dropped by unannounced. But for weeks, a heavy unease had been sitting in my chest, the kind that doesn’t leave when logic tells you everything is “fine.” Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was a mother’s refusal to ignore the quiet alarms.
I rang the doorbell. No answer.
After a pause, I used the spare key Laura had given me years earlier, “just in case.” The moment I stepped inside, the cold hit me — sharper than the winter air outside.
From the kitchen came the constant rush of running water.
I moved closer, careful not to make a sound.
Laura stood at the sink, scrubbing dishes again and again. She wore a thin sweater that did nothing to keep out the cold. Her hands trembled. Her hair was loosely tied back, and her face looked drained, like someone running on empty for far too long.
At the dining table sat her husband, Daniel, and his mother, Margaret. They were warmly dressed, eating without hurry, speaking softly, laughing — as if Laura didn’t exist.
Margaret slid her plate aside.
Daniel stood up and called toward the kitchen, irritation sharp in his voice.
“Stop washing dishes and help bring out the rest of the food.”
Laura startled slightly. She dried her hands on her pants and whispered a small, obedient “Okay.”
Something inside me fractured.
This wasn’t tiredness.
This wasn’t a bad day.
This was humiliation — and something darker beneath it.
Margaret finally noticed me standing there. She offered a polite, thin smile.
“Oh, we didn’t realize you were coming,” she said, without rising from her chair.
I didn’t answer.
I watched Laura return to the sink, shoulders curved inward. When she lifted her arm, I noticed faint redness along her skin — from cold water, from endless work, from being unseen. No one else reacted. No one else cared.
I stepped back slightly, as if checking my phone.
Instead, I dialed a number I knew by heart.
“Please come right now,” I said quietly. “To my daughter’s house.”
I ended the call.
Nothing changed at first.
Daniel sat back down.
Margaret continued eating.
Laura kept washing dishes, lips pressed together to keep herself steady.
Five minutes later, there was a knock at the door.
And in that instant, I knew this household was about to change forever. Read more in Comment or Most relevant -> All Comments 🗨️

12/28/2025

😅 At Ninety, I Disguised Myself as Struggling Old Man and Walked Into My Own Supermarket—What Happened Changed My Legacy Forever
At ninety years old, I never thought I’d be the kind of man spilling his heart to strangers. But when you reach this age, appearances stop mattering. All you want is the truth out in the open before time runs out.
My name is Mr. Hutchins. For seventy years, I built the largest grocery chain in Texas. I started with one small corner shop after the war, back when bread cost a nickel and folks left their doors unlocked.
By the time I turned eighty, the chain had spread into five states. My name was on every sign, every contract, every check. People even called me the “Bread King of the South.”
But here’s what money and titles don’t give you: warmth in the night, someone’s hand to hold when sickness comes, or laughter across the breakfast table.
My wife passed in 1992. We never had children. And one night, sitting in my massive empty house, I asked myself the hardest question: Who will inherit everything?
Not a group of greedy executives. Not lawyers with polished ties and practiced smiles. I wanted someone real—someone who understood dignity and kindness when no one was watching.
So I made a choice no one expected.
I pulled out my oldest clothes, rubbed dirt across my face, and skipped shaving for a week. Then I walked into one of my own supermarkets looking like a man who hadn’t eaten a decent meal in days.
The moment I stepped inside, I felt eyes burning into me. Whispers followed me from aisle to aisle.
A cashier, barely twenty, wrinkled her nose and said to her coworker, loud enough for me to hear, “He smells like spoiled meat.” They both laughed.
A man in line pulled his little boy closer. “Don’t stare at the bum, Tommy.”
“But Dad, he looks—”
“I said don’t.”
Every step felt heavy, like I was walking through a courtroom where the place I had built was now judging me.
Then came the words that cut deeper than I expected.
“Sir, you need to leave. Customers are complaining.”
It was Kyle Ransom—the floor manager. I had personally promoted him years ago after he saved a shipment from a warehouse fire. Now he stood there, looking at me like I was nothing.
“We don’t want your kind here.”
Your kind. I was the man who built his paycheck, his bonuses, his future.
I clenched my jaw and turned to go. I had already seen enough.
And then a hand touched my arm.
I flinched. People rarely touch someone who looks homeless.
He was young, late twenties maybe. Faded tie, rolled-up sleeves, tired eyes. His name tag read Lewis — Junior Administrator.
“Come with me,” he said gently. “Let’s get you something to eat.”
“I don’t have money, son,” I croaked.
He smiled—an honest smile. “That’s okay. You don’t need money to be treated with respect.”
He guided me past the stares and whispers into the staff lounge. He poured me a cup of hot coffee with shaking hands and placed a wrapped sandwich in front of me.
Then he sat down across from me, looking straight into my eyes.
“You remind me of my dad,” he said softly. “He passed last year. Tough man. He had that same look in his eyes—like he had seen too much of life.”
He hesitated.
“I don’t know your story, sir. But you matter. Don’t let anyone here make you feel otherwise.”
My throat tightened. I stared at that sandwich as if it were gold. And in that moment, I almost revealed who I really was.
But the test wasn’t finished.But the test wasn’t finished—and what came next would put both his kindness and my legacy on the line. Read more in Comment or Most relevant -> All Comments 🗨️

12/27/2025

🆚 My father asked in surprise, “Sweetheart, why did you come by taxi? Where’s the Mercedes your mom and I gave you for your birthday?” Before I could answer, my husband smiled and said, “That car belongs to my mother-in-law now!” My father went silent for a moment, thinking deeply… And what he did next made me truly proud of him.
When Emily and her husband, Daniel, arrived at her parents’ home that Saturday evening, she already sensed trouble brewing. The moment she stepped out of the taxi, her father, Richard Hayes, raised an eyebrow so high it nearly disappeared into his silver hair.
“Sweetheart,” he exclaimed, genuinely baffled, “why did you come by taxi? Where’s the Mercedes your mom and I gave you for your birthday?”
Emily opened her mouth, ready to explain the long, uncomfortable story she had rehearsed in her head. But before she could utter a single word, Daniel placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and answered with an almost casual confidence.
“That car,” he said with a warm smile, “belongs to my mother-in-law now.”
Her father froze. His hand, halfway toward taking Emily’s purse, slowly dropped to his side. He blinked once, twice, as if trying to determine whether this was a joke or a confession of insanity.
Emily’s mother, Linda, who had just stepped out of the kitchen wiping her hands on a towel, stopped in her tracks. “I’m sorry—what?” she whispered.
Emily felt heat rise to her face. She hadn’t wanted things to come out this way. But the truth was simple: she had given the Mercedes to Daniel’s mother after discovering she’d been struggling financially but was too proud to ask for help. Emily wanted to tell her parents gently, with context, not like this—blurted out in their driveway like some impulsive decision.
Richard folded his arms, the faint disappointment in his eyes stinging more than any raised voice could have. He looked at Daniel, then at Emily, then toward the street as if searching for answers in the quiet suburban evening.
For a long moment, no one spoke. Even the breeze seemed to pause.
Then Richard inhaled deeply, straightened his posture, and said, “Alright. Come inside. Both of you.”
But instead of heading toward the house, he turned abruptly and walked back to the garage. His steps were firm, deliberate—too deliberate. Emily exchanged a worried glance with Daniel.
Whatever Richard was about to do, she knew it was going to change the tone of the entire night.
And she wasn’t wrong.
Because what he did next completely stunned her...Read more in Comment or Most relevant -> All Comments 🗨️

12/27/2025

😀 My husband and his brothers thought it was funny to “prank” me. They left me stranded 300 miles from home, laughing as they drove off and yelled, “Good luck!” I never went back. Five years later, he found me — and his smile vanished the moment he saw who was standing behind me.
I still remember the sound of their laughter as the truck peeled away from the pump. It wasn't joyful; it was a sharp, jagged sound, like glass breaking against pavement.
The tires kicked up a cloud of choking dust, the midday sun hammered against my back, and my heart dropped straight through the floor of my stomach.
"Kyle!" I yelled, running after the fading taillights like a fool. "Kyle, stop!"
But they didn't stop. They just laughed harder. I saw them clearly—his brothers, Brad and Chase—hanging out of the passenger windows, filming my desperation. The red recording lights on their phones blinked like tiny, mocking eyes.
"Good luck, Lena! See you in three hundred miles!" Chase’s voice carried over the roar of the engine before they vanished around the bend.
I was left standing at a desolate gas station in the middle of nowhere. No wallet. No water. My purse was still in the truck because I had run in to buy Kyle an energy drink when he claimed he was "too tired" to walk. I had been a dutiful wife, and my reward was being stranded in the desert heat.
An hour passed. My phone buzzed one last time with 1% battery remaining. A single text pushed through: "Don't be mad, babe. Just a prank for the channel. We’ll come back in a bit. Relax."
I stared at the black mirror of the phone. I didn't cry. I didn't laugh. I just felt hollowed out. This was the man I married? He thought leaving me vulnerable and penniless was content for social media?
That was the moment it clicked. It wasn't a sudden explosion, but a slow, freezing realization. I looked around and saw a worn-out minivan pulling into the lot. A woman stepped out, looking exhausted.
I realized I didn't want them to come back. I didn't want his fake apologies.
I gripped my dead phone, popped out the SIM card, and snapped it in half, dropping the plastic shards into the trash can. I took a deep breath and walked toward the stranger’s car. They wanted a prank about me disappearing? Fine. I would make it permanent.
I thought I was simply escaping a toxic marriage, but I had no idea that my disappearance today would ignite a firestorm that would burn Kyle’s entire world to the ground tomorrow. Read more in Comment or Most relevant -> All Comments 🗨️

12/27/2025

🤢 A man goes to stretch and ends up feeling a sharp pain in his arm, it was a ca…Read more in Comment or Most relevant -> All Comments 🗨️

12/26/2025

🇱 Little girl calls 911 and says: “It was my daddy and his friend” — the truth leaves everyone in tears…
A young girl dialed 911 and whispered that it was her dad and his friend. What she revealed left everyone heartbroken.
He’s going to help you, Liliana. Stay with me on the phone, and open the door when he knocks.”
Officer Lopez walked up to the modest one-story house on Maple Street. Read more in Comment or Most relevant -> All Comments 🗨️

12/26/2025

💝 A young black bear was found fighting for survival alone 😱 The bear was suffering from dehydration, anemia and a severe skin infection. 😲 Rescuers were shocked to see the animal's terrible condition. 😲 Now wait until you see what it looks like after being rescued in the comments 👇👇👇 Read more in Comment or Most relevant -> All Comments 🗨️

12/25/2025

💢 My nana’s 1-minute trick to stop ants in the garden—no effort required. Read more in Comment or Most relevant -> All Comments 🗨️

12/25/2025

🔟 Racist Cop Pours Coffee On Quiet Middle Aged Black Woman Only To Fall To His Knees When He Finds Out Who She Is...
In the early morning, as the sun barely kissed the horizon, Detective John Harris sipped his coffee in the local diner, a routine he had come to rely on before heading to work. It was a quiet morning, with the usual patrons occupying their favorite booths, and the sound of clinking silverware and low murmurs filled the air. Harris was known in the neighborhood, and while his demeanor wasn’t exactly warm, he was respected for his no-nonsense approach to law enforcement.
At the counter sat Clara Williams, a middle-aged Black woman, her quiet presence a stark contrast to the bustling environment. Clara was a teacher at the local high school, a woman of grace and poise, though many didn’t know the weight she carried from a life full of challenges. She sipped her tea in silence, lost in her thoughts. The town was small, and the whispers of racial tension simmered beneath the surface, though it was rare to see it so brazenly expressed.
As Clara took another sip of her tea, Harris, oblivious to her presence, approached the counter. His eyes narrowed as he caught sight of her, a feeling of discomfort rising within him. Without warning, he snatched his coffee cup, turned towards Clara, and with a swift motion, poured the scalding liquid over her head.
"Learn your place, woman," Harris spat, his words dripping with venom. The diner fell silent in shock, all eyes on the unfolding scene. Clara’s body froze, the heat of the coffee stinging her skin, but she remained composed, her face a mask of quiet dignity.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" one of the other patrons shouted, but Clara raised her hand to silence them. She didn’t need anyone else to fight her battle.
Clara stood up slowly, her eyes never leaving Harris. The room felt suffocating, the weight of what had just happened settling in. But Clara didn’t react with anger. She simply walked out of the diner, her dignity intact despite the humiliating incident...Read more in Comment or Most relevant -> All Comments 🗨️

12/25/2025

👏 On one of the hottest afternoons of the week, I was stepping onto my balcony 🌞, hoping for a moment of silence. That’s when I noticed it: something strange, dark, and damp, clinging to the steps.
At first, I thought it was just leftover dirt or a shadow from the sun 🌑. But as I got closer, I realized that there was definitely something unusual about it.
It wasn’t moving like I expected, but it also seemed completely still 👀. The structure was unlike anything I’d seen before, almost alive in a way that made my skin crawl. I hunched over, my heart pounding, trying to figure out what this could be 🧩. Was it the heat? Something that had silently appeared overnight.
The more I examined it, the stranger it became. The little shapes formed in patterns that seemed intentional, as if someone, or something, had arranged them for me to find 🔍. I felt a shiver run through me, a mixture of curiosity and anxiety.
I knew I had stumbled upon something unusual, but I still couldn’t figure out what it really was 🌫️. Every instinct told me to back away, but I couldn’t take my eyes off it.
When I realized what it was, I was completely shocked 😳😳. Beware: you’ll also be curious to find out what this is…
👉 So, what was it really? Read more in Comment or Most relevant -> All Comments 🗨️

Pro Super VM

12/29/2025

12/28/2025

12/28/2025

12/28/2025

12/27/2025

12/27/2025

12/27/2025

12/26/2025

12/26/2025

12/25/2025

12/25/2025

12/25/2025

Address

Telephone

Website

Alerts

Shortcuts

Share

Category