Talk about some of the rotten things you did as a kid

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
41

I have a feeling my evil deeds are going to trickle in as I remember them…

Once in 8th grade Spanish, I farted a silent-but-deadly, and it polluted the entire classroom. Naturally, I blamed it on my best friend. Another buddy of ours decided that he’d squeak one out and just not say anything.

Anyway, long story short, the entire classroom reeked like ass, people were gasping and retching, and the teacher made my best friend stand up and apologize to the class for passing gas, much to my stifled mirth.

Another time, me and my friend who lived across the street were half-idly kicking a soccer ball to each other up and down the street at about 9 pm one summer night. One time, he lost the ball, and it went sailing down the street, to be hit by his next-door neighbor’s minivan. The ball was launched what seemed to be about 100 feet in the air, with a resounding thump.

The woman driving the minivan was this big, obnoxious, overbearing woman who didn’t hesitate to tell anyone what she thought of anything, and we generally hated her, because she’d already jumped our shit about several other minor things.

(Note: my buddy and I are both Eagle Scouts, and honor students. Not quite the young hoodlums she must have thought we were. )

Anyway, she hit the ball, it went flying, and we lost track of it. She pulled up out of the car and commenced to screeching bloody murder about how we scared her, and how irresponsible we were, and all sorts of other ridiculous crap.

Me and the buddy looked at each other, and busted out laughing in the middle of the tirade, which just made her madder and she threatened to send her husband, the army officer out to deal with us. (he was the most henpecked, wimpy-looking guy we’d ever seen). So my buddy goes “You do that.” while I was still doubled over laughing.

Husband comes out with pistol in holster, stands there, and we just sort of looked at him and found our soccer ball and continued our game.

We got mildly chewed out later by our parents for being disrespectful, although it was more in the vein of “Now I know she’s a bitch, but you can’t just go around laughing at people who are that upset.” and I think the main reason it even came up was because bitch-woman had gone to our mothers and ranted/raved, etc… about how evil we were, and I think the moms were irritated at having had to deal with her.

42

A couple of times in my misspent youth we made clubhouses out of any vacant houses in the neighborhood. The one we used for the longest we could only get into the garage, so we dragged in an abandoned sofa from someone’s bulk trash pile and our stockpile of “found in the woods” pornography.

Then some other bastards found it. They shredded our sofa, tore up our porn, and generally tried to chase us off. A couple of weeks we came back and discovered they had hidden probably a couple of thousand dollars worth of high-end bicycle parts(almost certainly stolen) in the attic and around the garage. We took great umbrage at having our porn disrespected like that, so we stole all the bike parts.

Enjoy,
Steven

43
  1. In 4th grade a buddy of mine and I both had a crush on a 6th grade girl. Problem was, we reckoned, she had a boyfriend that was also a 6th grader (of course it didn’t occur to us that as we were two years younger that she wouldn’t have had anything to do with us regardless) and we decided the boyfriend had to go so we could share her (???).

Anyway, I concocted an evil plan. I authored a note to the girl, calling her every manner of filthy name I knew at that age, told her I wanted nothing to do with her anymore, and signed her boyfriend’s name to it.

Needless to say, it didn’t have the desired effect and I got paddled by the VP for my troubles.

  1. In 8th grade I pooped into my little brother’s ice cream. Not a lot, just a little nugget, and to this day I cannot tell you what overcame me to do it. He had left it unattended is all, so naturally I had to mess with it as his punishment. So he comes back, takes a couple bites (while I am barely able to contain myself), makes a face, has the audacity to say “this ice cream tastes like SHIT!” as he’s spitting it out over the deck railing, and I say “That’s because it IS!” and die laughing.

His response was “I wondered why the flies were buzzing all around it!”

  1. When I had my first tape recorder when I was about 7, I used to smack my brother in the face, record his cries and my mother subsequently yelling at me for it and then I would re-live the entire sordid episode later with the recorder under my pillow, laughing like the evil little fuck I was then.

  2. In 9th grade me and two friends all had pump action bb guns, and we were walking along some train tracks in the woods near where we lived (Burke Virginia) at the time, taking potshots at random stuff. Eventually a train came along. We immediately decided to hop under the nearby trestle bridge where you could see in between the two sets of tracks and the oncoming slow train was on the left track coming towards us. We though it would be a capital idea to shoot at the train. Ridiculous, we thought. A BB against a train! Nevertheless, along comes the train, we’re shouldering our rifles, my friend Brent says “Aim for the windows!” and I yelled back that I didn’t think it was a good idea. In one of those moments where time literally seemed to stand still, he looked at me with a shit-eating grin and said “What are they gonna do, stop the train?”.

So, we aimed and shot. I distinctly recall hearing two of the shots plinking harmlessly off the front of the engine. The third shot, Brent’s I think, was an amazingly lucky shot. I saw the narrow, rectangular engineer’s window at the front of the train spiderweb with milky colored cracks. Brent yelled that he had hit it, started to high-five me, and then…SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE went the sound of the brakes on the train. “They’re stopping the train…RUN!”

The train was going only about 5 mph or so I think, and so it stopped a lot faster than we bargained for. We boogied into the adjacent woods and I looked back and saw a man jumping off the caboose yelling “Hey!”. Fortunately, we got away.

  1. Along the lines of others posting here, my friends and I when I lived in Fort Worth would get high and wander the neighborhood after dark, throwing rocks as hard, high and far as we could into the random side streets. Being rewarded with a satisfying tinkle of glass, we would then run.

  2. Another favorite Fort Worth past time was to toss M-80’s out of any car we were riding in. I once tossed one into a creek where little kids were playing nearby. The loud boom and the huge upsurge of water scared the shit out of them.

  3. We also had a hobby called “ass mastering” where a friend and I would drive around, looking for female joggers, preferably wearing a walkman. When we found one, my friend would drive up really slow and sneaky like alongside the woman (who couldn’t hear our approach) and I would lean out the car window and administer a resounding smack on her butt cheeks and quickly drive away. We really thought that one was pretty funny.

Looking back, I was not a very good person in those days, and now that I have little kids of my own, I fear retribution is nigh.

44

I orchestrated an elaborate series of strange events and anonymous phone calls to make the French teacher of our high school think that he was being recruited by the French Secret Service. All the time in his class, instead of actually teaching, he talked about how that was his dream–and how it almost happened back in France, but he had failed the “seduction test.” (In general, all he did was talk about his personal life.) So we thought we would oblige him in that, and give him spy “assignments.”

Well, we didn’t know, but he also was technically suffering from paranoia, and at one point, when he was being “tested” by having his coffee secretly “poisoned,” he freaked out, thinking that it was really cyanide (it was actually almond extract). He then thought that the principal of the school was behind everything, because the administration wanted him out for being such a lousy teacher. He proceeded to have a kind of psychotic episode and had to be taken away.

That was pretty rotten.

45

Well, okay. So now we know why you did what you did. So, ummmm… just what did you do?

46

I remember as a kid, picking up the small stones Dad used on the ground where he parked our caravan, then catapulting them into the garden of an elderly neighbour. I’d wait and listen for the pings as her son mowed the lawn and went over the stones I’d shot there.

It only started as a test to see how far I could catapult something. For something made out of a y shaped tree branch and clothing elastic, it was reasonably proficient.

47

One of my friend’s father was a gun nut who loaded his own bullets. His son swiped a bunch of powder and we constructed a pipe bomb which we used to severely damage a foot bridge in a neighborhood park. It seemed like every cop in town turned out and we had to split up to evade them; we all got home safely but it was nip and tuck.

Later in life when we had our own cars, we pushed over and stole quite a few stop signs just for the hell of it. Unfortunately we were caught red handed. We had to dig new holes and re-install all of them.

48

I helped beat up a kid on the playground when I was either in kindergarten or first grade, I forget.

But I totally remember doing it and for the past 25 years have felt horrible about it. The kid didn’t end up going through school with us so I never got to apologize.

Sorry, Kurt E.

49

I used to throw small moths into spider webs.

Once I hollowed out a big marshmallow, put pepper in it and plugged up the hole. Gave it to my younger sister and she nearly choked. Got a healthy spanking out of that, one of only two times I was ever spanked. I was old enough to know better, so that made it especially cruel.

50

A couple more involving phone pranks that I’ve already told elsewhere on the Board:

Calling up someone’s house late at night, the house of a classmate we knew was out running around, and say we were the police and could they come pick up their daughter, for any variety of offenses.

One year right after Christmas, we called the local newspaper and put an ad in the classifieds that said: “Don’t throw your Christmas tree away. I’ll buy it!” And gave a friend’s phone number. It was pure chance that we called the ad in on a Friday, meaning it ran all weekend before their offices reopened on Monday to cancel it. The lady who took our ad said she was dying with curiosity about what we were going to do with all those trees, and thinking fast I said: “Uh, I, uh, I’m going to resell them for firewood.” “Oh! That’s a great idea! I never would have thought of that.” We called the friend’s house ourselves posing as someone with a tree to sell, and his mother said there must have been some sort of mix-up at the paper and that their phone had been ringing nonstop all weekend. The friend kept absolutely silent about it at school the next week, waiting to see who would break and mention it. We never did, and he never brought it up. So, Steve, if you’re out there somewhere reading this right now, it was me and Robert (you know Robert who). :smiley:

51

For almost the entire 31+ years of my marriage my nickname for my wife has been “Dolly” (inferring Dolly from the Family Circus). I shit you not.
A bit of honesty: Like a lot of childhood bullies I grew up to be a cop, so WhereTF do you want e to start regarding the rotten things I did as a kid?

There were 2 sister brats that lived on the other side of our block. One Sunday before they went to church I went over and squirted them with my squirt gun. They were pissed but not as pissed as they and their parents were hours later when they learned I hadn’t filled my squirt gun with water. The huge splotches on their Sunday best dresses made them realize it had been bleach!!!

When I was in high school I got detention once (yeah, “once”:rolleyes: ). While I was in the principals office doing my homework I found a stack of midterm progress reports and stationary envelopes (from the school) that I helped myself to. The next day I went into the typing class room on my lunch hour and made out all sorts of “progress reports” about kids I didn’t like, and mailed them to their parents. “I’m concerned about receiving compositions from your daughter about her sexual adventures” and “I know it is assumed normal for boys this age, but I cannot condone him masturbating in the locker room anymore” were among the comments by the “teachers”. :smiley:

All this was in the late 70’s so any statute of limitations has expired. Shall I continue?

52

I’m sure I tormented my brothers pretty horribly at some point. We had a strange love-hate relationship as children. One of my greatest moments of victory was when I got into a fight with Brother #1 that was at least as much my fault as it was his. He ran to tell on me, but he pushed me out of the way while on the way upstairs to Mom, and my hand smacked into the stair railing. I burst out crying, surprising even myself, and was completely absolved of any guilt.

During the times when we were getting along, we liked to throw rocks, sticks, bits of broken glass, etc. that we found down the big hill from the edge of the ivy in the backyard. But we didn’t realize one day that some of the ivy before the hill had been cut away by the workmen who came to cut down a dead tree, putting us so close that when we threw things, they fell into the yard of the neighbor at the bottom of the hill. I could see it was happening, but wasn’t about to let it ruin my fun. The neighbor was out with the guy who kind of did odd jobs for the neighborhood, so she clearly saw us throw a bottle cap into her yard. She turned toward us and started to yell at us, so we all three ran back up into the house and laid low all day, fearing retribution that never came.

53

!!

54

When I was 10 my schoolfriend Joe and I discovered a new delight: they’d installed a liquid soap dispenser in the school toilets. Simultaneously we also discovered that if you carried a book and looked serious and walked purposefully, you would get away with being inside the school buildings during playtime, something you weren’t normally allowed.

So nearly every break, Joe and I would stride purposefully into the school building and proceed undisturbed to the toilets, where we would squeeze out clear liquid soap and cover various surfaces with its invisible ickiness.

At first the faucet handles, giggling that people would rinse their hands then be unable to get out of the loop of having to get them soapy again in order to turn off the faucet. Then we got more ambitious: internal and external door handles, then a huge glob of it hidden in the paper towels about halfway down (we laughed so many silent suppressed giggles at that one that we nearly choked), and finally the piece de resistance, a thin layer all over the toilet seats.

Then we went to work on our magnum opus: a thin layer of liquid soap on everything. Cubicle handles, toilet seat, faucets, a big gloop in the towel dispenser, the floor. We couldn’t stop laughing at what this would do:

“I’m just going to the toilet. Oh! I’ve got soap all over my hands. Now I’m on the toilet. Oh! I’ve got soap all over my ass. Now I need to wash it off - oh! I’ve got soap all over my hands and ass. I need some paper towels to clean this mess off… ::gloop:: Now there’s soap all over my ass and hands and pants. And now I’ve slipped over in it all!”

We got called out on it in an all-school assembly where the whole school was going to be shown a movie as a Christmas treat (the Railway Children as I recall). “Before I begin the film, I have a request. Will the boys who have been soaping the toilets in the main block please stand up,” intoned the principal.

Because they were a surprise, the words didn’t make sense at first, but when I finally realized what was happening, the room span. I didn’t know what to do. Eventually with blood roaring in my ears I stood, up, unsteadily, and looked across the crowd of amused upturned faces to see Joe standing up too, cringing. We were led into the principal’s office, everyone laughing, denied seeing the movie and dressed down thoroughly with a lot of shouting, the principal flexing a big slipper he used to mete out corporal punishment. “If you hadn’t have confessed you’d have got the slipper,” he said as we cried. We were essentially grounded for at school, letters sent home to our parents, and had to write essays every lunchtime for a month.

Though I knew instantly the badness of our behaviour, and my empathy for the victims was instant in the principal’s, the memory of amusement imagining some poor sap getting increasingly soaped up has never left me.

55

We have finally found a solution to the energy crisis. Where should we mail the Nobel Prize?

56

Hmmm, I’m remembering all kinds of things! A few:

Purposely broke glass all over the road.

Dug and camouflaged a tiger pit in the side yard at Grandma’s house. I heard her neighbor broke his ankle right around that time…

Pulled much of the tape out of a cassette and held it out the schoolbus window as we rode down the highway. We let it go when it got entangled in the antenna and windshield wipers of the car behind us.

Entered unlocked new houses which had just been built in our subdivision. We then regarded them as our clubhouses. In one of them, we completely saturated the carpet by shooting each other with the sprayer attachment on the sink.

57

Heh. We used to play a game to see how much of the school bus we could disassemble and toss out the window on the way to school without the busdriver noticing. At first we’d just detach the seat belts and seat cusions and toss them out, but as competition heated up, people started bringing tools with them so we could disassemble entire seats and lighting fixtures into small enough pieces to get out the window.

58

When I was about seven or eight, a friend of mine and I had this plan where we’d go up to random houses and one of us would ask if we could use the bathroom. No one denied a little girl the use of a bathroom when she was out playing, so we’d ‘use the bathroom’ and while in there, steal stuff. Anything, really. Hairspray, makeup, lotion, even jewelry if it was in there. Horrible.

Another time a small group of us were playing with matches and started a huge brush fire behind our neighborhood. I went back to the scene of the crime while the fire department was there and I remember a cop asking me if I knew who started it or had anything to do with it. I’m sure he knew I did, but I didn’t get in trouble for it.

59

I remember playing “ninja throwing star” with circular saw blades in the unfinished parts of my new subdivision. With enough force, it would stick quite nicely into the material they used for the inner layer of the outer walls.

60

Hmmm…
Cat Food Cereal: I was about 12 and my kid brother about 6 and we were home alone for some reason. He kept whining for me to fix him a bowl of cereal. I kept telling him to get it himself. He threatened to tell mom and dad I wouldn’t let him eat if I didn’t fix it. So, I went in the kitchen, got the biggest bowl I could find, filled it with cat food, sprinkled on some sugar, and poured the milk. At first, he tried to say it was cat food. I lied and said it was a new cereal. He took a couple of bites and refused to eat it. I threatened to tell mom and dad he was wasting food if he didn’t eat it. I made him eat every bite.

Same Brother, New Hostility: (this brother and I really did not get along. And not in a ‘they’re brothers, of course they fight’ way. In a ‘knock down, drag out, I will feast upon your soul’ way) Anyway, I’d gotten a BB pistol for my birthday or something. One Summer day, I was out shooting bugs with it. Bees, horseflies, butterflies… anything that would land long enough for me to aim at. My brother caught me doing this and was going to go tell mom and dad (he thought I was shooting flowers and butterflies only). I told him if he told, I’d shoot him. He started toward the house, so PING! I shot him. He then yelled he’d tell on me for that, so I shot him again (it wasn’t strong enough to break skin). He wound up telling mom and dad and I lost my gun for some time.

Temporary Lane Marker Word Play: On a couple of nights when we were out boosting road signs, we came across freshly resurfaced roads with the little plastic temporary center lane markers. We would collect these then go to a good hill in the road and spell out obscenities so that someone approaching the hill would be greeted by it.

Drunk Balloons: Friends and I got a three man slingshot. One that required a person at each end, then a person to pull back and fire. It would shoot about 300 yards. One friend lived right in town, just down the street from city hall and a bar. So we’d hide behind the hedgerow at the edge of his yard and wait for drunks to come out of the bar, then we’d start launching balloons at them. They, being drunk, thought we were on the roof and so would look up at the roof yelling for us to come down as we lobbed more balloons on them and their vehicles (denting vehicles and breaking at least one window). When the ruckus became loud enough, the police would come out of city hall to also be bombarded. They would then get in their cruisers and drive up and down the streets looking for us, but never find us because as soon as they started for their vehicles, we stashed the evidence and ran in the house.

Leave No Seat Armed: A group of us would go to the movies, not so much to watch the movies, but just to be the kind of kids that I would want to throttle if I ran into them at the movies now. One summer, we made it our mission to remove every armrest from every seat in the (at the time, now bigger) triplex. It took some doing, as they would replace some almost as fast as we popped them. Eventually, though, we had them all, plus the soap dispensers from the bathroom (which were opened then tossed into top-down convertibles in the parking lot). That fall, the theater was renovated and expanded. None of the seating had removable armrests.

Fast Food Vandalism: McDonald’s and other fast food joints used to all have disposable salt and pepper shakers on the tables, instead of the little packets at the condiments station. We would take pennies or nickels, stand them on end, then get them spinning really fast. Then, we’d take the salt or pepper shaker and slam it down on the spinning coin, driving it up through the bottom. The next person to use it (or the poor burger jockey cleaning tables) would lift the shaker to get a pile of salt or pepper all over the place. Other times, we’d take the shakers with us as we left and chuck them down the street to watch the trail of salt or pepper.
Also, the swivel chairs at McDonald’s used to not be fastened down (don’t know if they are now or not). They would just lift up off the base. Many’s the time we walked out of McD’s with the chairs from one of the tables.

These were some of the worst. I won’t go into detail on the homemade stink bombs set off in the halls at school, squirting pipettes of hydrochloric acid on the backs of people’s necks, rotten meat shoved into someone’s locker just before Christmas break, obscenities on restaurants’ marquees, and the various other typical asshole kid/teenager things we did.