I just scared the POOP out of a co-worker. Probably literally.

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
1

Short background;
Me and a fellow co-worker have a scary past together in which we will sometimes see the other coming down a hall or some such and duck behind something and then jump out at the last second and scare the crap out of the other one.
On a scale of 1-10, I believe I just gave her a 10 scare.
She was trying desperately to swipe her badge at the employee entrance to get the door to open. The card reader was not reading the badge, so she kept trying to swipe. I noticed this as I passed the door (she didn’t see me), so I circled back to the door and waited in hiding. As soon as I heard the door release (click) I pounced.
I blasted open the door and screamed at the same time.
I can’t even begin to describe the look of horror and shock on her face. Her eyes opened up wide, she grabbed her chest with her hands, and turned instatnly red. She then, of course, slugged me on the shoulder and started to say something except she couldn’t talk…she was in shock. I let her pass into the building and then she kind of wandered around the entry way not really sure which way to go next (still confused and catching her breath).
This whole time I’m trying not to laugh too hard, yet sort of concerned about her mental state.
She gives me another look and says, “OOOOh, that was a good one,” in a wavering voice. She circled around the entry way some more and then started to make her way to the time clock area to punch in, except to my surprise, she turned towards the womens room a few feet away and ducked in. I think she might have peed herself. Normally she’d have punched in and then went to her cubicle and then to the cafe and then maybe to the bathroom.
I waited outside to make sure she was OK and when she came back out (still beet red) she pointed her finger at me and said, “I WILL get you back for this,” with half smile on her face of the embarrassed/still in shock type.
I haven’t talked to her since then, it’s been a couple hours now. I’m going to go over and see if she’s alright, I might have scarred her for life.
I would have liked to have seen the ECG readings from that episode. :eek:

Anyone else have a similar story?

2

I don’t know if you should do that; she may have the booby trap revenge all set up already!

3

HA HA! That’s gold.

Reminds me of this gem (SFW): http://www.break.com/index/mazescare9.html
Watch your back.

4

Several years ago, I was working in a tape library.

we had received boxes and boxes of tapes, all of which had to be cataloged to our system. annoyingly, nobody had thought of that before activating the account, and occasionally we would need a tape that was still in a box.

I hid inside a box which was taped shut. My Team Lead told one of our workers that he needed a tape that he was pretty sure was in this box over here (cue me giggling silently).

When the young lady started to open the box, I bouned out like some sort of malevolent Jack in the Box.

She shreiked, clutched her chest, fell backwards and then ran from the room like Whitney Houston running from Devils.

We were legitimately worried we had caused her to pee herself.

Once we finished howling with laughter, we found her and assured ourselves that she didn’t need a new pair of pants.

One of my best memories of working there… hehehehe…

5

I do a great “snarl,” like a jaguar or a leopard. Years ago, when I worked at a telecommunications company, I’d sneak up behind the customer service people and snarl right over their shoulders. They would slam forward, attempting to phase shift through their desks to get away. Usually they just knocked over their pencil cups but occasionally the monitor would flicker and the desk would separate entirely from the cubicle.

Why they thought there was a leopard in the office, I have no idea. :smiley:

6

Several years ago, the Northridge quake was felt severely in Ventura, where I worked. In the following days, everyone was rendered jittery by continuing strong aftershocks. I got into the peurile habit of taking hold of the outside of people’s cubicles, and (unseen by them), shaking the whole unit. This would result in people squealing, “Here comes another one!”, getting under their desks, closing out of documents lest we lose power, etc. Because no one saw me do it, I managed to get a lot of mileage out of that gag.

7

My college roommate was fond of sneaking up behind me and saying “boo!”. I would respond by saying “scream!”

Most of the time, she didn’t startle me at all–and half the time she knew it.

But there was this one day . . .

It was late at night, I’d been working on a paper at the computer lab, and when I finished(or when I got too tired to continue) I’d packed up my stuff and dragged my way across campus. I dropped my backpack in my room, and went into the bathroom. While I was in there, I heard a noise(like a door opening or shutting), so when I left the bathroom, I glanced left, confirming that my roommate’s door was still shut. I then started to walk into my room, which was dark(to my mild surprise, but I was too tired to be sure whether I’d turned a light on or not).

My roommate jumped out from behind the half closed door and said “Boo!” I said “SCREAM!” in sort of a stage whisper. I was definitely startled-and now more awake than I’d been since I left the computer lab. Roommate was tickled pink–she’d actually managed to scare me. I was irritated. Roommate proceeded to tell story to several of our mutual friends.

8

Geez. :rolleyes: Okay, kids, time to stop before someone gets hurt.

9

It’s all fun and games until someone puts their redeye out.

10

This is a (long) story of a Boy Scout summer camp prank, almost gone horribly wrong.

Though I was a young scout, 2nd year out of Cub Scouts, I was pretty much shunned by those my own age due to the fact that I generally behaved, listened to instructions, got out of bed the first time I was asked, worked hard, etc. As a result I was accepted by the older more mature members of the troop and was allowed to hang out with them and stay up later, etc. That is how I came to know all about the intricate and complex plans that were laid out.

There was a particular young scout, Mike, a year younger than myself, who was by far the most annoying, rude, arrogant kid in Scouts. He listened to nobody, he never completed an assigned task, he lied, he cheated, and he would steal or break your pocketknife or flashlight if he was jealous of it. Everyone hated him. And he was the scoutmaster’s son, which made him think he could get away with all of this. Though I think his father hated him as much as we did.

As the week of camp rolled on, the older boys, as the leaders, become more and more exhausted with his antics and began to plot revenge. Step one began around the campfire one night right before bedtime. Dan, a 17 year old scout, on his way to joining the acting department at NYU in the fall began telling a scary tale of “The Lost Boy Scouts”. As far as I know he made this whole story up, pretty much on the fly, with intricate details about 2 scouts who got lost at the very same summer camp and died in a fire years and years ago. They now wander the camp at night trying to find their old troop, as they will wander into your campsite in the shadows of the night looking for Troop 28. Only after telling them you don’t know where that troop is and they wander off, do you realize that their uniforms looked old-fashioned, and their faces appeared blackened.

Many kids went to bed scared and sleepless that night.

The next evening our troop traditionally made homemade ice cream and Dutch-oven cakes, and invited guests from the staff and other troops to our site. One such guest was a counselor known as Bird Man (he worked in the nature lodge). Bird Man was an enthusiastic co-conspirator. And one who happened to have his grandfathers old scout uniform from the 30’s. And who happened to have a Jason-style hockey mask that was painted black.

After staying for cake and ice cream, Bird Man excused himself to go back to the nature lodge. After an hour or so, as the group was gathered around the night’s fire, one of the older boys asked our victim Mike to get something out of the supply tent. We watched as Mike approached the tent, opened the front flap, and quickly complained he couldn’t find the rope we asked him to get. Clearly just being lazy, he was told to look harder, in the boxes and bags stored within. As he rummaged around, the back flap of the tent slowly opened and the upper body of person wearing an old scout uniform and black mask leaned in, and then quickly retreated.

At this point, only those of us in the know were even watching and saw. Well, us and Mike. Who stood up and backed out of the tent, perplexed. The older boys reprimanded him for not getting the rope, and told him to get it again. Mike, being brave and likely questioning if he really saw what he thought, opened the flap back up and moved back into the tent. Again, the back flap lifted open a hair and an ominous black masked face leaned in. Mike jumped back out of the tent. The older boys yelled at him, and Mike told them there was someone back there. By now a commotion had started, and all the boys and adults were watching. Everyone told him to stop joking and lying and to get the damn rope! Mike was smiling now. He was young and arrogant, but apparently smart and on to us. With a grin, he opened the front flap again and began to move inside. Again, the back flap opened and the figure returned quickly and ducked back again. This time everyone saw it. Mike laughed. A few young boys gasped.

And then a blood curdling maniac scream from behind me. Another young boy of perhaps 12, Rich, watching the entire thing completely lost it. He was crying and shaking, bright red. Bird Man now emerged from around the back of the tent, and began to reach for the mask to reveal himself. Seeing the full figure approach, little Rich lost it even further. Having been standing next to the ax yard area of the site, he stepped over, picked up a hand ax and charged forward toward Bird Man, ax over head screaming “I’ll fucking kill you!! I’ll fucking kill you!!” Swinging wildly he ran, and Bird Man tore the mask off and took off into the woods, Rich right on his heals swinging, screaming, hitting trees and branches with his ax.

Everyone yelled to him, and the adults started chasing, but no one could subdue him as the ax was flying and wouldn’t stop to listen. Luckily Bird Man was also a track star and was soon out of sight and gone into the darkness. Rich, exhausted, stopped the pursuit and dropped to the forest floor crying and shaking.

Mike, the intended victim, laughed the entire time, even as it appeared someone might get killed. I dare say we may have scarred poor innocent Rich for life, however.

11

I am so going to hell for laughing at that. Poor little Rich.

12

That is an awesome story, Fat Chance. :smiley:

13

Keeerap, Fat Chance, that was frikkin’ hilarious. Well told!

14

I actually have another one…

Years later I was already out of Scouts and in college, but seeing how I was working a summer job for the current Scoutmaster of my old troop, I volunteered to spend a few days at summer camp, helping out as he was stuck at the office. Our troop has a long and storied history of great practical jokes, most often with the adult leaders as the ringleaders. This was once such case.

While sitting around the campfire one night the kids began talking about ghost stories, and when I mentioned the classic tale of Cropsy, I was astonished to find that none of the younger kids had every heard it. Cropsy is a classic (at least in my parts) of Scout campfire tales, and I had assumed everyone was already bored of it. In fact my first early experience of our twisted adult leaders sense of humor involved the Cropsy story, our 6’6 scoutmaster, a Michael Myers mask, and a long 2 bladed ax…

(for those who haven’t head, the basic story goes that a man named Cropsy lived in a small shack in the woods near the summer camp with his family. While out hunting one day, a group of scouts wandered away from the camp and came upon the cabin. Believing it to be abandoned, and being boys, they proceeded to play with matches and ended up burning it down. Cropsy returned to find his home, with wife and child inside, in flames. He raced in to save them, but it was too late. In his rage, he chased and brutally murdered each boy with his long hunting knife. He then escaped into the woods, where he still wanders killing any boy in a scout uniform he stumbles upon).

So I proceeded to tell the story in grand detail, obviously making the setting our very own summer camp. Again, many kids went to bed scared and sleepless. The adults stayed up late talking, and we remarked at how easily the kids were scared, fondly recalling past pranks. Despite some of us remembering the events of Rich with the ax, we came up with a devious plan.

We recruited one of the older boys, Dave, to play a role, and shortly after dusk the next evening he announced he was going to a nearby campsite to visit friends in another troop (he actually did have known friends from that other troop, and actually did go visit…for a while anyway). Now, a little lay of the land – our campsite consisted of a series of approximately 12 tents in a large semicircle, with the adults’ lean-to at the open side. Up the hill approximately 100 yards away was another similar campsite, only much larger. This week of camp, it wasn’t being used so was dark and empty. The lean-to in the other site did have a phone, however, that connected directly to the main lodge ( a few of the sites had phones for emergencies, but not all).

Hours after Dave had left, everyone was sitting around the fire working on merit badges or talking. A horrible blood-curdling scream suddenly rang out from the trees beyond our site. Myself and the other adults sprang to our feet and ran toward the scream. Most of the young boys stayed back. When we reached the point in the woods I called back to the boys to quickly come bring flashlights. Another adult yelled for one of the boys to bring the first aid kit.

When the boys reached us, a few of the adults were huddled over something on the ground. Then the moved aside, and there was Dave laying motionless on his back, with a 12 inch hunting knife sticking straight up out of his chest!*

A few boys gasped, one ran back to the campsite. I told the boy next to me to quickly run to the other lean-to and use the phone to call for help. After he had gotten about 75 yards into the pure darkness of the next campsite, the assistant scoutmaster screamed to him, “Wait, he might still be out there…hiding in the lean-to!” That kid sprinted right on back, screaming his head off.

I quickly ushered all the crying kid back to the fire for safety, as the adults “tended” to Dave. Meanwhile I pretended to break down, telling the kids how we were all going to die, and “did you hear that noise? Did that tent flap just move?” A few minutes later Dave comes walking back to the campsite asking why everyone looks so shaken up.

Yes, we were so evil. I still can’t believe none of the parents complained about that one, or any of the others for that matter. Or perhaps this may be a contributing factor to the declining membership and difficulty in recruiting we tended to have…
P.S. Little Rich was not at camp that summer, in fact, though he remained a scout for years, I don’t think he ever went to summer camp again.

  • The knife was stabbed through Dave’s t-shirt into a plank of wood strapped around his chest.
15

Ok, not nearly on the level of the Boy Scout story.

My roommate and I were living in the dorms our freshman year, and we had a nightly ritual. I t was called “lamptime”, and would be initiated by whoever remembered first asking what time it was and answering “Lamptime!”.

What this meant was that we turned off the overhead light and turned on our desklamps, to kind of transition to night time and prep to go to bed.

One day shortly after Halloween, the drugstore had those colored light bulbs on sale for practically nothing. I bought a green one.

I bided my time for a few weeks, and one night, after I had announced lamptime, my roommate left to use the restroom. This was my chance; I replaced her lightbulb. When she came back, she didn’t think about the fact that her light was now off. She sat down at her computer, and flicked the lamp switch on.

The next thing the whole building heard was a scream and a loud THUMP!

The colored had surprised her so much, that she actually yelped and fell onto the florr, chair and all. :smiley: It was so much better than I ever expected, especially when everyone was coming by to ask what was wrong.

16

People love to scare me. Apparently I have cartoon-like reactions to being scared, and it just gives everyone a great laugh at my expense.

My mother’s favorite incident: my mother used to walk by my door in the morning and either knock or yell (not very loudly) my name to make sure I was awake. One morning, just as she was walking by, I opened my door, and she yelled my name. I was so startled that I shrieked, jumped about a foot off the ground and slammed the door shut. When I opened the door she was sitting on the floor, crying with laughter. What she really wanted to know, for some reason, was why I had slammed the door shut. Apparently that was the funniest part to her.

My husband’s favorite incident was when I was in the bathroom. He decided to crouch down outside the door, waiting for me to come out. When I opened the door, he yelled something like “Boo”. He claims that my feet were running while I was in the air. I hit him for that one.

My brother has scared me more times than I can remember, and always got a big kick out of it. He’d call me down to his part of the house claiming to need help with his computer. When I’d walk into his apartment, he’d jump out from behind a door or closet or whatever and scare the living crap out of me. It got to the point that I’d steel myself for the surprise; eventually it wasn’t so bad, but he did usually succeed in at least startling me.

Oh, and one of my favorite incidents of being “scared”. I sometimes get terrible cases of the hiccups. My ex-husband decided to help out, so when I got up to get a glass of water, he hid in the darkened hallway and waited until I came out of the kitchen. The moment I set foot in the hall, he leapt out and bellowed BOO. I ended up wearing most of the water, but my hiccups were cured. Anyway, some time later, I had another bout. My daughter, wanting to be helpful, decided what worked for her dad would work for her. I was sitting in front of the computer when she (noisily) snuck up behind me, and said in her cute, tiny voice, “Boo?” I laughed so hard that the hiccups disappeared.

So, I’m almost always the victim and hardly ever intentionally the perpetrator. Guess I should just be glad that I provide some entertainment value :wink:

17

A while back I worked at a veterinary practice where one of the receptionists (Sue) had a serious snake phobia. I saw maybe one or two snakes a week, and she would switch places with a technician so she did not have to interact with the snake/owner at all.

The owner of a dead >6 foot long reticulated python brought the remains of his dead snake in for a post mortem. It was Sue’s day off, but she stopped in to pick up her pay. She turned down the hallway just as two of us were carrying this huge dead snake in her direction. She collapsed. We hurried away with the snake. We almost called an ambulance, but she got herself together. She switched out of her wet jeans and wore scrub bottoms home.

18

I shared a dorm room for a time with a friend whom we always used to tease about her red hair. Her morning routine was to head down to the bathroom, shower etc., then return to the room and turn on her stereo and listen to the radio while she got dressed. I usually waited until she came back to get up.

One morning after she had left for the bathroom, I popped a cassette into her stereo, cued it up, set it to Play, turned the power off, cranked up the volume knob, and got back into bed. When she came back and hit the power button, expecting to hear WAPL at a moderate sound level, she got blasted instead with

WONDER WOMAN, WITH YOUR SKIN SO FAIR
WONDER WOMAN, WITH YOUR LOOONG RED HAIR

(Billy Joel, in his heavy-metal duo Attila, circa 1967, total screaming, scratchy overamplified guitars, truly awful)

She just about jumped out of her panties. I just about pissed mine laughing.

19

A while back I worked at a veterinary practice where one of the receptionists (Sue) had a serious snake phobia. I saw maybe one or two snakes a week, and she would switch places with a technician so she did not have to interact with the snake/owner at all.

The owner of a dead >6 foot long reticulated python brought the remains of his dead snake in for a post mortem. It was Sue’s day off, but she stopped in to pick up her pay. She turned down the hallway just as two of us were carrying this huge dead snake in her direction. She collapsed. We hurried away with the snake. We almost called an ambulance, but she got herself together. She switched out of her wet jeans and wore scrub bottoms home.

20

My older sister was always the best person to scare in my family. My younger brother and I were constantly jumping out of places just to hear her scream.

One of the worst times was not caused by either of us, but our dad. My sister was on trash duty and would take the trash out to the curb the evening before the trashmen came. My dad would pretend to go take a shower, turn the water on and then sneak out the back door when my sis wasn’t looking. He’d sneak around the house and hide either behind the trash cans or behind the tree and as my sis went to set down the garbage he’d leap out and she’d running screaming all the way back into the house.

The time I got her the best was once when we were getting ready for bed. She was in brushing her teeth and I hollared that I was going to get a drink and would be right back. Instead, I went and crawled under her bed to lie in wait. Not expecting a thing, she goes and sits down in bed and I reach out and grab both her feet. She starts screaming and is kicking to get away from me and I hold on for dear life. She eventually manages to get away, she was older, and my parents come in to see what the screaming is about to find me curled up on the floor in hysterics. Ah, good times. :slight_smile: