Post a funny story from your youth

[mAdMaLuDaWg]

Well here is one. Back when I was in 4th grade or so, me and my cousin bought those firecrackers that explode when you throw them on the floor (the little white things with a stick and a bulge at the end... forget what you call em). We were really bored and decided to place them on the road so cars would run over them. Well we would place them on a road and hid behind the bushes waiting for a car to run over em. A couple of them did and the last time, a cop car came speeding through the road and ran over like 10 of them. We got so scared that we locked ourselves in the house and didn't come out until a couple of hours.
Another time, me and my best friend were essentially doing the same thing but we ran out of those fire crackers so I come up with the idea of using a thumbtack ... well, I place them on the road and a car misses it. I moved it a bit and a car again misses it. My best friend then took note of where exactly on the road the car's tire runs over and carefully placed a thumbtack at the right spot. So we are sitting behind the bushes for some time and all of the sudden this red corvette speeds through and you could hear a huge pop. We were laughing and went back in the house and my Brother asks us who did it? I was like it was all of my best friend's idea and that he was the one who placed it on the road. My brother was like huh? He was actually referring to a leak in the waterpipes in the basement... needless to say, my best friend was really pissed at me for a while.

Oh and Another time, me and my best friend were bored out of our minds. So we decided to pull a prank on two kids who my Mom used to babysit. We took a packet of those firecrackers and covered ourselves with sheets, ran into the basement where the kids were fast asleep and started throwing the firecrackers all over the room. The kids woke up and we started saying, "We are ghosts and have come to kill you.. BWAHAHAHA!". THey were crying out of their minds and I decided to call it off and let them use the firecrackers which eventually made them stop crying.

I really did some stupid and horrible things as a kid :|

 

[Pepsei]

. a cop car came speeding through the road and ran over like 10 of them

doubt they can hear it in the car even with the windows open

..thumbtack.... a huge pop

those thumbtacks are made of titanium?

but at 4th grade, I was foolish enough to think that a single pebble on the train tracks can derail it. and i did it too to see if it is true AFTER seeing a cartoon illustration telling kids not to do it.

 

[HomeBrewerDude]

Age: 18
The objective: Get the president of SADD drunk and go for a drive.

If I burn in hell, this may be one of the reasons.


This occurred back when the legal drinking age was 19, so it wasn't too hard for us 18 year olds to buy some beer. We bought a case of something and invited a the president of our school's Students Against Drunk Driving (SADD) club over to help us drink it. He was in walking distance and agreed. Two hours later the beer is gone, and the guy was drunk enough to agree to go for a ride to get some food. He hated us after that.

 

[markgm]

The president of my SADD group actually killed himself after driving drunk the year after graduation...

Good stories though! Just reading them reminds me of how many times I've gotten in trouble in school (and how many times I didn't get caught!)

 

[hemiram]

The people next door when I was a kid had 8 kids, some had moved away, and some were still living there, 4 boys and a girl. The youngest boy and the girl were ok, the other 3 were worthless, all three are alkies and the youngest of the three, Terry, was an amimal torturer besides, at the ripe age of 14, he was already hitting the booze almost daily. His dad made wine, and they always had an amazing amount of beer available due to the parties they had all the time, and the three kids hit it hard and often.

This kid and I barely tolerated each other. He shot my dog with a BB gun about 6 months before, and I beat the crap out of him and warned him what was going to happen to him if anything happened to him again, and I was totally serious about it. He had been fairly sane for a while, so we let him hang with us sometimes.

It was getting towards the 4th of july and all us kids had fireworks we bought from another neighbor, who always had a large selection at rip off prices. Anyway, Terry tosses a cherrybomb at my dog, and it didn't hurt him (except maybe his ears), but scared the hell out of him. I retaliated by shooting a starter pistol right behind his left ear. He jumped about 2 feet in the air, it was a total surprise. He slugged me in the face, I hit him back and I thought that was it. I was wrong.

My best friend and I were in my basement, playing pool and suddenly, down the steps comes an M80 and it blows up almost instantly, followed by another and we got to hear that whistle you get after a really loud sound all afternoon. We go upstairs and get my M80s and cherrybombs and a single K200 out of my stash of fireworks, and it's war!

Warning: The following is not PC... back then this wasn't all that big of a deal..

We throw two M80s into the garage and his older brother is just getting ready to leave, and he yells at us and we run back home. We come back out after he leaves, and Terry throws an M80 at me and it blows up and a hunk of it cuts me on the face. I get the K200 out and put it inside their milkbox on the side of the house. It blows the door off, and Terry runs out and hits me with a plastic baseball bat, and my friend and I take it away from him and he runs into the house, and we get to the door before he locks it, and I toss one of those really big packs of black cats into the kitchen and off they go. Suddenly his mom pulls up, as the crackers are really flying around the kitchen and she's a real piece of work on her best day, let alone when she's pissed. She grabs me, and starts yelling at me, asking what the hell do I think I'm doing, and all I could do was think of something to say to get her off me, and it comes to me. I say, just as Terry comes out the door, "Terry threw a firecracker at my dog, and then threw some down into our basement, and we just were geting him back for it!!" She lets me go, and snarls at Terry, "Terry, what did your dad and I tell you about FIREWORKS??" Terry is already blubbering, and she grabs him and starts beating on him, asking him over and over again, "WHERE ARE THE DAMN FIREWORKS!!!" After about a dozen solid punches, he sobs out "In the trunk of dad's car!!!"

She drags him over to the car and opens the trunk, she makes him get his whole stash out of the car, and starts dragging him into the house, leaving his entire stash on the driveway. As we take about half of it, we hear him screaming and begging mom to stop beating on him, and then her swearing at him, hitting him again, and we are laughing our asses off! If it happened today, I would call (from a phone booth, of course) children's services and sit back and watch the fun when they came to investigate.

I didn't see Terry for a couple of days, and he didn't look too good when I did. He had bruises all over him, a cut lip and a swollen cheek. He tried to be a big shot tough guy, and bragged to us that his mom's punches didn't hurt all that much, and that he had another stash, hidden inside a suitcase in the attic. The best part was, his mom had come around the corner of the garage just as he said that! Mom dragged him off again, and I could hear him sobbing all the way up to the attic, and handing over his stash. She kept asking him, "And where are the REST OF THEM??", and he would blubber back, "They're all gone, I SWEAR....bwahhhhhh!" I was laughing so hard I could hardly stand it.

The really weird part of this is later that day, his mom comes over and talks to me, and was nicer than she had ever been. She tells me she will give me 5 bucks everytime I squeal on Terry. Man, back then, in 1970 or so, as a 14 year old, I was really tempted, but didn't do it. I got my revenge the old fashioned way, kicking his ass, about once a year, when he did something to my dog or my car..

Today, Terry would make an excellent guy to put on "Cops", he lives in a double wide out West, getting DUI, Pot and Domestic charges tossed at him constantly. He has the sickly thin build, with a tiny gut, of a major drunk. I didn't recognize him when I ran into him when he came into town for his uncle's funeral a couple years ago. He was drunk, of course.

 

[ATLien247]

Originally posted by: hemiram
The people next door when I was a kid had 8 kids, some had moved away, and some were still living there, 4 boys and a girl. The youngest boy and the girl were ok, the other 3 were worthless, all three are alkies and the youngest of the three, Terry, was an amimal torturer besides, at the ripe age of 14, he was already hitting the booze almost daily. His dad made wine, and they always had an amazing amount of beer available due to the parties they had all the time, and the three kids hit it hard and often.

This kid and I barely tolerated each other. He shot my dog with a BB gun about 6 months before, and I beat the crap out of him and warned him what was going to happen to him if anything happened to him again, and I was totally serious about it. He had been fairly sane for a while, so we let him hang with us sometimes.

It was getting towards the 4th of july and all us kids had fireworks we bought from another neighbor, who always had a large selection at rip off prices. Anyway, Terry tosses a cherrybomb at my dog, and it didn't hurt him (except maybe his ears), but scared the hell out of him. I retaliated by shooting a starter pistol right behind his left ear. He jumped about 2 feet in the air, it was a total surprise. He slugged me in the face, I hit him back and I thought that was it. I was wrong.

My best friend and I were in my basement, playing pool and suddenly, down the steps comes an M80 and it blows up almost instantly, followed by another and we got to hear that whistle you get after a really loud sound all afternoon. We go upstairs and get my M80s and cherrybombs and a single K200 out of my stash of fireworks, and it's war!

Warning: The following is not PC... back then this wasn't all that big of a deal..

We throw two M80s into the garage and his older brother is just getting ready to leave, and he yells at us and we run back home. We come back out after he leaves, and Terry throws an M80 at me and it blows up and a hunk of it cuts me on the face. I get the K200 out and put it inside their milkbox on the side of the house. It blows the door off, and Terry runs out and hits me with a plastic baseball bat, and my friend and I take it away from him and he runs into the house, and we get to the door before he locks it, and I toss one of those really big packs of black cats into the kitchen and off they go. Suddenly his mom pulls up, as the crackers are really flying around the kitchen and she's a real piece of work on her best day, let alone when she's pissed. She grabs me, and starts yelling at me, asking what the hell do I think I'm doing, and all I could do was think of something to say to get her off me, and it comes to me. I say, just as Terry comes out the door, "Terry threw a firecracker at my dog, and then threw some down into our basement, and we just were geting him back for it!!" She lets me go, and snarls at Terry, "Terry, what did your dad and I tell you about FIREWORKS??" Terry is already blubbering, and she grabs him and starts beating on him, asking him over and over again, "WHERE ARE THE DAMN FIREWORKS!!!" After about a dozen solid punches, he sobs out "In the trunk of dad's car!!!"

She drags him over to the car and opens the trunk, she makes him get his whole stash out of the car, and starts dragging him into the house, leaving his entire stash on the driveway. As we take about half of it, we hear him screaming and begging mom to stop beating on him, and then her swearing at him, hitting him again, and we are laughing our asses off! If it happened today, I would call (from a phone booth, of course) children's services and sit back and watch the fun when they came to investigate.

I didn't see Terry for a couple of days, and he didn't look too good when I did. He had bruises all over him, a cut lip and a swollen cheek. He tried to be a big shot tough guy, and bragged to us that his mom's punches didn't hurt all that much, and that he had another stash, hidden inside a suitcase in the attic. The best part was, his mom had come around the corner of the garage just as he said that! Mom dragged him off again, and I could hear him sobbing all the way up to the attic, and handing over his stash. She kept asking him, "And where are the REST OF THEM??", and he would blubber back, "They're all gone, I SWEAR....bwahhhhhh!" I was laughing so hard I could hardly stand it.

The really weird part of this is later that day, his mom comes over and talks to me, and was nicer than she had ever been. She tells me she will give me 5 bucks everytime I squeal on Terry. Man, back then, in 1970 or so, as a 14 year old, I was really tempted, but didn't do it. I got my revenge the old fashioned way, kicking his ass, about once a year, when he did something to my dog or my car..

Today, Terry would make an excellent guy to put on "Cops", he lives in a double wide out West, getting DUI, Pot and Domestic charges tossed at him constantly. He has the sickly thin build, with a tiny gut, of a major drunk. I didn't recognize him when I ran into him when he came into town for his uncle's funeral a couple years ago. He was drunk, of course.

That's more sad than funny... but a good story either way.

 

[no0b]

Age:12
Objective: Get to 2nd base (baseball, not that)

When I was about 12 in little league in one of the play off games. I'm running from first base to second this idiot 2nd baseman is in the path. I'm looking at him while I'm running realize hes maybe 100 lbs I'm 140lbs , hes looking dead at me and he doesn't have the ball. Everything flashes in my mind really quickly. I remember what my coach told me to do in this situation, run into him if hes in the base line without the ball. I quickly analyze to make sure I'm running straight to the base, thats checked. I'm looking at this kid straight in the eyes telling him in my mind to move the fvck over. Hes looking at me with a wtf look on his face. Thinking about football right now I lower my shoulder, duck down alittle. Slam, I'm still running hes not standing. I dont look back I dont hesitate hes on the ground and I'm at 2nd base. Play stops I dont completely understand the gravity of the situation. The basemans coach, and parents come out to the field right now I'm not feeling bad he fvcked up hes on the ground. So about after what seemed like an eternity (10 minutes) the idiot baseman gets back up and is replaced. I'm still bewildered at this point that he was so stupid. It didn't hit me until the end of the game what kinda damage I could have done to this idiot.

Now its just a funny story I tell to friends and family. I wouldn't have done anything differently in the same situation cause he was completely wrong however I might understand quicker what damage I could have done.

Cliffs:
2nd baseman is in the baseline I run into him he gets knocked the fvck down. And doesn't get up for 10 minutes.

 

[geecee]

When I was in third or fourth grade, I joined a youth basketball league for the first time. Having never played organized basketball before, I was unfamiliar with some of the rules and clock management strategy, etc. The coach of the team was a really nice guy, and very patient with me. The first game of the season, even though I wasn't really sure what I was supposed to be doing (I was OK defensively and tall for my age), he figured he'd put me in the game for a few minutes to give me a little game experience. Our team was down like 10 pts or so with two minutes or so left to play, so he decided to start fouling the other team, hoping they wouldn't hit their free throws and we could catch up a little. Of course, when he told me to foul the player I was guarding, I had no idea what he was talking about. When he yelled at me to do it again (after I ignored him the first time), I ran up to the other player, did my best linebacker impression and tackled him. The ref's reaction was "Son, what the hell are you doing?" I could only answer with, "Well, Coach told me to foul him!"

Even after the initial embarrassment, my teammates ribbed me about it for the rest of the season.