I was in first grade. A girl in my class did something–I can’t even remember what–that pissed me off. Later at recess I saw that some other kid had vomited on the macadam. It was a warm day so we had taken off our coats and lain them by the wall of the school. I grabbed the girl’s coat and lay it, ever so gently, over the pool of vomit. She never did figure out how it happened.
There was a rainstorm and all of these tiny little frogs came out. I got my kicks stomping them and feeling them squish under my feet. I shudder thinking about it now.
When I was about 5, my mother and I were in a department store and I found one of those penny gumball machines with a clear see-through globe. Somehow during my exploration of this wonderful device, I discovered that the bottom of it had a hole in it and if I stuck my finger in the hole, I could pry pennies out. I kept them. But having fished out lots of pennies, I managed to accidentally knock the machine over and spilled gumballs all over the place. Nobody ever did figure out that I was stealing the pennies, but I did get in trouble for knocking over the machine.
You mean a human life. Birds have lives too. HAD lives.
Children shouldn’t own weapons.
You show more sympathy for TOMATOES?!
Much better than him not wearing tights with that particular costume, I should think?
A group of us, around age ten, purposefully set a bushfire once. :smack: Probably to see the firetrucks, I can’t recall our thinking. Thankfully, it died out in a couple of minutes rather than flare up and spread.
Oh, and I tricked a cousin into drinking my urine. But only after he did the same to me…
Username/post combo ribbon awarded.
mmm
This sounds like the preamble to a Darwin award. (though kids aren’t eligible for Darwin awards, actually)
If Lil’ Neville did something like this, I’d be more worried about how she got the knife and got to the neighbors’ garden without my (or Mr. Neville’s) knowing about it than about anything it might mean about her character.
Early or pre-teens. I was playing leftfield in sandlot baseball, the ball was hit over my head and just as I got glove on the ball I collided with the chain link fence. No warning track there! I found myself lying on the ground parallel to the fence with the ball between me and the fence and nobody could see it lying on the ground. So I casually picked up the ball with my glove and triumphantly held it aloft as though I caught it. Nobody questioned me and the out stood.
I’ve tortured insects, but I don’t feel bad about that.
I did however tap my kid brother in the head with a sharp pronged hoe when he was 4-5 and I 6-7. Blamed it on him getting in the way of my gardening and got away scot free. I feel bad now both about the act and the memory of just feeling good about the acceptance of my lie and not particularly bad about the act.
Don’t worry, it was a very sturdy fence 
If anyone was at risk of never reproducing, it was the poor bull…
You sick bastard!
When I was 7, my father took me on a trip to San Diego. We drove north to a relative’s house and by the time we got there, I had to urinate urgently. My father and great-uncle were talking and despite repeated efforts to get their attention (“Shh! We’re talking! Wait your turn to speak!”) they ignored me. So, I did what any mature, reasonable 7-year-old would do - I dropped trow right there and pissed on the couch.
You see, to me that’s not a BAD thing. It’s a “Well, you asked for it” thing.
I did this, but it was my brother’s collection and it wasn’t nearly as valuable. It was packaged mint sets of 20th century quarters, etc.–the kind that starts out a coin collection.
He didn’t have a belt, but he still hasn’t let me forget it more than 40 years later.
I remember walking through a department store with my sister and mom and seeing some shiny fishing weights, removing them from their package and since they were cylindrical I started treating them like little cigarettes, smoking them and leaving them in all the ash tray stands around the store.
I feel bad about taking them without paying for them but there were a dozen or so fish that, well, they owe me!
Mine’s pretty lame.
I was walking up the steep hill from my elementary school to home one day when I noticed another kid had left their bagged lunch on the sidewalk, for some unknown reason. Also for unknown reasons, I thought it would be fun to pick it up and hurl it down the hill as far as I could…where it splattered dead center on the windshield of a car traveling down a cross street, almost causing it to crash. I ran off in a panic, but another kid who I was with dropped dime on me, and I got an earful from the school principal the next morning, and from my parents that afternoon.
Then, and I don’t think anyone ever really noticed this, or they’d have sent me to therapy, there was my habit of setting up hundreds of plastic Army men on the living room rug and spending hours mowing them down en masse with d-cell batteries and other thrown objects. It’s probably a good thing that I’ve never had a job with access to nuclear weapons.
I am glad to see the same remorse I have for the loads of insects my brother and I tortured and killed needlessly as kids. For that, I make a point to capture and release just about every bug that I and my family find in our home, and show my kids the right way to do it without causing injury or harm to the creature (and also not be fearful).
In elementary school a girl I did not like was sitting on a basketball at recess, and I ran by and kicked the ball out from under her - she fell on her back and started crying and I got in big trouble. I also hated 5th grade so much I frequently requested bathroom breaks, where once I clogged-up the urinal with paper towels and flooded the bathroom. Idiot.
I stole some of my dad’s cigarettes and (tried to) smoke them in the bushes with my neighbor. We also collected butts from around the neighborhood and did the same. A good way to not pick-up the habit. Never smoked again.
Once, I “really” wanted those tic-tacs at the store and my mom refused. So when she was busy paying, I slipped them into my pocket un-noticed. At home a couple hours later she discovered me enjoying them in my room, and promptly took me and the candies back to the store, and had me hand them over to the manager and apologize. I was maybe 6 or 7. Never had an appetite for stealing after that.
Damn, there is more. I was an ass as a kid.
We had an old Ford farm tractor that we used to mow our property. 90% cast Iron I think it was. How could a bb gun hurt it? Ping. Ping.
Radiators are quite delicate.
I threw a bang snap from three or four levels up into the first floor lobby of the Illinois State Capitol. I didn’t know it would be that loud but it sounded like a shot from a gun and had it been today, I probably would have been found very quickly and gotten into a lot of trouble. Back then, there weren’t cameras everywhere and my friend and I were questioned by a guard but we told him we were just hanging out in front of my friend’s dad’s office. The guard probably suspected us but he didn’t do anything.
I set fire to a pile of pine needles and left it to burn. So stupid lucky I didn’t cause a major, major fire.
That was me too, only I’d use rubber bands to pick them off. What, that wasn’t normal?