Youthful Indescretions

All things outside of Burning Man.
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Zephryus
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Post by Zephryus » Sat Apr 03, 2004 2:35 am

Um, have you been reading this thread? I made the initial contribution.

Or is this just part of a dastardly scheme to reveal to the world that I'm still in the prime of my life? (And yes, ladies, I'm available. Sort of.)

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calsur
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Post by calsur » Sun Apr 04, 2004 3:09 am

Apology in triplicate. I skimmed over your posts. All right, truth, I missed them.

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Post by DVD Burner » Sun Apr 04, 2004 4:08 am

boy You sure do, do a lot of apologizing. :lol: Just joking with ya.
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Post by Zulegoona » Sun Apr 04, 2004 4:15 pm

I sure am happy I didn't grow up with the serial movies playing in the theaters on Saturdays. I hate the waiting. And there is always those nagging questions.

Will Michael escape the the kidnapers?

When will Angie figure out they aren’t bringing her fiancée back?

What shadowy event in Jim and Carmen's past enables them to live with a dangerous man like Wild?

Can the VW microbus really make it all the way?

Will Wild be able to turn his brother to the dark side using travel drugs and California girls?

And what of the brothers Mom, is she breathing a sigh of relief that her wayward offspring are leaving the state?

stay tuned for the next installment of THE TIME I KIDNAPPED MY BROTHER

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Post by calsur » Mon Apr 05, 2004 12:07 am

DVD Burner,

Yes I do and it is because I am an idiot. Get use to it.

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Post by DVD Burner » Mon Apr 05, 2004 4:35 am

calsur wrote:DVD Burner,

Yes I do and it is because I am an idiot. Get use to it.
Never say that. You're human and a good one at that. At least you own up to your mistakes. That's saying tons in comparison to some on this board. :wink:

I'm still waiting for the conclusion to Rings "THE TIME I KIDNAPPED MY BROTHER". What a cliffhanger.

Ring you are one funny man. :lol:
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Tancorix
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Post by Tancorix » Mon Apr 05, 2004 4:56 am

You and me both...it's been pretty interesting.

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RingO'Fire
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Post by RingO'Fire » Mon Apr 05, 2004 9:43 am

Sorry for keeping you waiting folks, I had a really busy weekend.

THE TIME I KIDNAPPED MY BROTHER - PART III - THE ONE THAT ALMOST GOT AWAY

We got him! We're gone! Yee-haa! We were speeding down the long driveway with my brother Michael in the back and Jim sitting on top of him. So far, I haven't mentioned my brother's reaction to being kidnapped. In short, he was really pissed off! The conversation in the van immediately after the abduction went womething like this:

Michael: "Goddammit! What the hell are you doing?! Let GO of me! Goddammit, let me go! Let me go, goddammit!"
Me: "You're goin' with us, to California!"
Michael: "Oh hell no I'm not!"
Jim: "Oh hell yes you are!"
Michael: "Oh hell no I'm not! LET ME GO! "
Carmen: "Come on Mike! Just calm down, relax, and come with us! We're gonna have a great time! We're gonna pay for everything too! All you have to do is come along and have fun!"
Michael: "Hell NO! Goddammit, LET ME GO!"
Jim: "Hey Mike man, if I have to, I'm gonna sit on your ass all the way to California. So, you might as well just calm down and enjoy the trip!"
Michael: "OK, I'll go, but Angie's stuck back there at Mom and Dad's house!. My truck is a stick-shift, and she doesn't know how to drive a stick-shift! At least let me call her and let her know what's going on!"


We felt bad for leaving Angie stuck back there at the house, so we agreed to allow Michael to call her and let her know what was going on. We pulled into the local Golden Gallon convenience store, about 15 minutes from my folks' place, and drove up right next to the pay phone out on the perimeter of the parking lot. Jim and I stood guard, just a few inches away on either side of my brother as we let him out of the van to use the phone. The telephone conversation went something like this:

Michael: "Angie! Help! They're kidnapping me! They're kidnapping me and taking me to California! Call the Tennessee Highway Patrol! We're gonna be taking I-40 west toward Memphis! [he had asked us "which way are we goin'?" and we had told him] Call the Highway Patrol! Call Dad and tell him to follow us! [then, quickly] Well, I love you, bye!"

Then, quick as a flash, he ducked one shoulder and spun around right between Jim and I in a move that would've made an NFL running back proud. He started running, bare-footed and shirtless, as fast as he could over towards the gas pumps, where there was one lone guy pumping gas into his tank. "Help! help! They're kidnapping me! They're kidnapping me!"
I was right on his heels, with Jim right behind me, chasing down our escaped prey. At the site of the three of us running toward him, with my brother yelling about being kidnapped, dude at the gas pump let go of the nozzle, turned toward us, and kinda flared his shoulders out.

My brother stopped about 20 feet from the guy at the pump. "Help! They're kidnapping me!" I ran right up to Michael and grabbed him from behind in a "bear hug", pinning his arms down at his side. I yelled at dude, "This is my brother!" Jim quickly ran up and yelled at the guy, "Yeah, they're brothers! See the resemblance?!" [pointing quickly back and forth between the two of us. Just for the record too, we hardly look alike at all].

Carmen wheeled the van around; the side door was still open. I picked Michael up off the ground and heaved him into the open door of the van. Jim jumped in on top of him. I slammed the sliding door, scrambled into the passenger seat, and we were off again. Michael yelled out the window as we sped away, "Help! They're kidnapping me! They're kkiiddnnaappiinngg mmmeeeeee!"

Whew! That was close! He almost got away! Jim, Carmen and I discussed our new travel route, since Michael had told Angie to call the Tennessee Highway Patrol on us!

Jim: "Shit! Man, we gotta get outta this state as soon as possible! We sure as hell can't take I-40 west anymore! Lets go south!; Then we'll head west." [the Tennessee/Georgia state line was to the south, only about 15 minutes away]. So off we sped off into the sunset.

We later found out that Angie had to call her parents to come get her at my folks' place. Needless to say, (this is an understatement) her dad never cared for me too much after that.

My brother was so mad and so upset that he continued yelling for a while. Then, he broke down and cried for a while. By the time we reached Atlanta though, about 2 hours later, he had calmed down. Then, he suprised us all with this sorta 'resigned to his destiny' statement, "OK, I WILL go to California with you." My internal dialogue was something like this: "Hell yes! It worked! Everything is going according to "The Plan!" This is fucking awesome!"

This was just the beginning though...more adventures were just ahead of us. We didn't realize it at the time, but we would all soon be...PROFESSIONAL KIDNAPPERS FOR HIRE!

Stay tuned for the next Chapter..."The Amatuer Kidnappers Turn Pro!"
...but it seemed like such a good idea at the time...

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Post by RingO'Fire » Tue Apr 06, 2004 7:24 am

THE TIME I KIDNAPPED MY BROTHER - PART IV - WHAT'RE A FEW STOLEN BULLETS AMONG FRIENDS?

During the turbulent two-hour span between his kidnapping in Soddy-Daisy, TN and our arrival in Atlanta, GA, my brother Michael had reached a state of "inner peace", or at least "inner resignation" and had agreed to go "all the way" to California with us. Michael was now totally on board with "The Plan."

We drove on through the night to Shreveport, Louisiana where we were going to stay with some of Carmen's relatives for a couple of days. Let me take this opportunity to give you a little background info about Carmen, Jim and I and the history of our relationship, just to answer the question:
Zulegoona wrote: What shadowy event in Jim and Carmen's past enables them to live with a dangerous man like Wild?
[I have to write about this now; I could hardly sleep last night for thinking about all this stuff!]. Carmen and I had known each other since kindergarten at Signal Mountain Presbyterian Church (Ms. Burke's class - My mom still has our class photo). Carmen and I didn't really became friends until years later in high school, even though we went to different schools. She went to Notre Dame, a private Catholic school, and I went to Red Bank, a public high school.

Carmen's dad Eric was a brilliant, but eccentric and belligerent, Professor of Physics at UT Chattanooga (He still is, actually - I saw him in the hallway of the Physics Dept at UTC a couple of weeks ago. He looked at me quizzically, but didn't recognize me. I didn't want to talk to him anyway; he's kind of a whacko). Carmen's mom was a kind, sweet Greek immigrant woman whose family had fled Greece during the civil war in the 1950's.

One night in late 1978 (I was 16), I went over to a party at Carmen's house. Carmen and all her buddies were smoking various substances, listening to The Who, and acting out scenes from "Lord of the Rings" in blacklight (I swear! See, "L.O.R." is not just a 'third millenium" phenomenon!). I thought, "Wow! This is kinda bizarre and kinda cool at the same time. One thing I do know for sure though, Carmen is really cool! I definately want to see more of her!" "More of her" is exactly what I did see too. We ended up dating for a few months, and I "gave" Carmen my virginity! Actually, I had been trying to give it away for quite a while, but no cute girls had seemed to want it before then. After dating for two or three months, I eventually stopped calling Carmen, and we just kinda went our separate ways without any real "breakup" or even closure, for that matter. Then, we lost touch for about six years or so.

Now, fast forward six years to early 1984, the year of the kidnapping. I had started working as a line cook in the "Four Squares" restaurant, where I met a soul brother, Jim K. Jim had gone to Notre Dame high school with Carmen, where he had the reputation of being a "troublemaker", although he was also really smart. Jim's dad was a local FBI agent and raging, abusive alcoholic. Jim was the middle child of three brothers and had born the brunt of his father's abusive outbursts. In spite of this, Jim was outgoing, friendly, gregarious, a great storyteller, AND a fellow adventure-seeker! Jim was actually a little wilder than me, believe it or not (It's true, he was "wilder than Wild!").

One of Jim's summer hobbies in high school had been to go pick up cars that were broken-down on the side of the road (usually dressed only in a pair of gym shorts) and then tow them to the scrap metal yard where he would sell them for scrap metal (you didn't need the car title back then!). Jim had also been involved in the botanical and reality-enhancement products "distribution" business for several years (wink wink). Jim was an entrepreneur, a Grateful Dead-head, a boxer, a ladie's man, and a total gun nut too! We became instant friends and partners in crime (literally!), but that's all a matter of public record now. [I'll tell the story of "the Big Bust" that happened about three months before the kidnapping a little later.]

My new friend Jim was dating my old high school sweetheart Carmen, so, naturally, we all started hanging out together. When they needed a new roommate for their giant house, I naturally moved in.

Back to the kidnapping story.

We arrived in Shreveport in the middle of the night. We stayed with Carmen's coon-ass relatives (her Dad's relations) for a couple of days. For those of you not from the South, a "coon-ass" is a Louisiana redneck. It was kind of odd, having known Eric, the brilliant oddball phyics professor for several years, then seeing that his relatives were more or less a bunch of rednecks! I must say though, they were very hospitable and kind to us.

In Shreveport, we learned about "mosquito trucks." Mosquito trucks are like giant bug foggers on wheels. They slowly drive through neighborhoods making this really loud buzzing sound, spraying a giant cloud of mosquito poison behind them. I remember Carmen's aunt yelling, "Y'all kids, GIT IN HERE NOW! Here comes tha mosquita truck!"

The most eventful thing that happened to us in Shreveport was that Carmen's little hoodlum cousins stole our bullets! We had two identical little brown paper bags in the VW van. One was filled with candy, the other had our bullets (for the gun we carried, of course). We had given the little cousins some candy the day before we left. The little fuckers then apparently climbed into the van, and thinking they were stealing our candy, stole the bag with the bullets instead! "Ooo! Those little bastards!"

Next destination...Houston! Houston was the city where we became Professional kidnappers!

Tune in again next time.........[/quote]
...but it seemed like such a good idea at the time...

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Post by calsur » Wed Apr 07, 2004 12:06 am

[/quote]Carmen's dad Eric was a brilliant, but eccentric and belligerent, Professor of Physics at UT Chattanooga (He still is, actually - I saw him in the hallway of the Physics Dept at UTC a couple of weeks ago. He looked at me quizzically, but didn't recognize me. I didn't want to talk to him anyway; he's kind of a whacko). [/quote]

Is that not calling the kettle Black?[/quote]

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RingO'Fire
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Post by RingO'Fire » Wed Apr 07, 2004 1:30 pm

Touche'! :wink: Indeed it is! [LOL]

I suppose the main difference between Eric and I is that he's kind of gruff, whereas I'm a friendly eccentric oddball whacko.

I'll post "Part V" later tonight (Wed 4/7).
...but it seemed like such a good idea at the time...

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Post by CrimsonHaze » Wed Apr 07, 2004 5:44 pm

Reading these stories really makes me feel like I wasn't that bad of a kid. Now, I have my stories....but I wasn't as bad as my friend Ring O' Fire. Man, you never told me some of those stories! Your mother was a brave, brave woman!

Hmm...I'm gonna have to think up some good stories!
"Never drive 'up' the 'off' ramp."
Doctor: What do you do when you're sad?"
Patient: I smoke crack!
Doctor: What do you do when you're angry?
Patient: I smoke crack and I masturbate!
(Heard by a friend, an orderly taking notes.)

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RingO'Fire
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Post by RingO'Fire » Wed Apr 07, 2004 9:21 pm

THE TIME I KIDNAPPED MY BROTHER - PART V - PRELUDE TO A KIDNAPPING II

We left Carmen’s paternal relatives in Shreveport and drove the next few hours to Houston, Tex-Ass. We rolled into Houston about three or four days after the kidnapping. While there, we were going to be staying with some more of Carmen’s relatives. This time though, we would be staying with an aunt and uncle on her mom’s side. Carmen’s mom’s brother, uncle Nikolas K. (let’s call him "Mr. K") was a very respectable, successful and wealthy businessman. Mr. K and his wife had a very large two-story, four or five bedroom house, complete with swimming pool and tennis court, in a well-manicured Houston suburb.

Mr. And Mrs. K welcomed us into their house with open arms. We were quite a motley crew too (so far I haven’t mentioned the TWO DOGS that were travelling with us too). Yes, there were four of us, two dogs, and all of our shit crammed into a VW microbus. When we arrived, we must have looked a car full of circus clowns piling out of the van. Except, instead of clowns, we were a van full of….hippie hooligans!

Another part of Mr and Mrs K’s world, and now ours too, was Carmen’s cousin, David. David was a 19-year old, spoiled skinny moody femmy flamer party boy. David’s hobbies were drinking, dancing, disco’s, drugs and sex (actually, that doesn’t sound so bad to me now). Mr and Mrs K had handed David everything he had ever wanted; he had never been made to work for a damned thing in his whole life. In other words, he was "useless as tits on a boar-hog", as we say around here.

Jim, Carmen, Michael and I had of course regaled Mr and Mrs K and David with the story of the recent kidnapping. Enough time had passed that my brother could laugh about it too, which was cool. That night, David took us all out on a party tour to some of his favorite disco’s. We took David's car, which had a really bad exhaust leak; it was like driving around in a gas chamber on wheels. We made our way to one dance club called "Numbers" with an underlit neon dancefloor. I had never been "dancing" in a "mosh pit" before. After moshing for a few minutes, getting pushed and shoved around and having a few elbows thrown into me, I had to stop "dancing" and get out before I started a fight.

On the way home, we drove past a gay dance club called "The Loading Dock." David pointed it out to us and told us, in his femmy voice, "See that place over there? It’s called ‘The Loading Dock.’ In the back, they have bathtubs where men give each other ‘golden showers.’" I said something like, "You’re kiddin' me, right?" David replied, "Oh no, I am not kidding, but I would never go there myself." Oh no, of course you wouldn’t David.

The following day, David and I were hanging out inside his house, sitting around watching TV. We were making small talk, which included the subject of my brother’s recent kidnapping. During our conversation, David suddenly busts out with…"I wish someone would kidnap me and take me to California!" He sounded kind of sad and forlorn though. I asked him why he felt that way. He replied, "My father hates me! He’s mean to me and doesn’t like me at all!" Then he proceeded to tell me how much he hated his life and how he felt like his dad didn’t love him. He was obviously sad about his relationship with his father, but didn’t let it slow down his uber party-boy lifestyle.

Of course, I informed Jim and Carmen of my conversation with David. Jim and I discussed the possibility of actually bringing David to California with us, then bringing him back to Tennessee and "making an honest man out of him." We had an "under-the-table" home remodeling business and thought we could maybe teach him a trade, if he was willing. We didn’t really give a shit about the fact that he was gay; that really didn’t matter to us. Jim and I just thought perhaps we could help teach him to take care of himself, that’s all. After discussing it though, we decided that it would be too much of a pain in the ass. David was a little too much of a whiney-ass bitch for the two of us. We thought he would be a shitty worker and would probably drive us nuts.

That evening, David went out to party. We travelers went to the store, bought groceries, and came back and made a huge dinner for Mr and Mrs K., which they loved. After dinner, we were all sitting around the picnic table out on the pool deck, sipping wine and enjoying each other’s company. The subject of David inevitably came up in the conversation. Trying to be "Mr Reconciliation", I said to Mr. K., "Mr. K, I was talking with David today, and he feels like you don’t love him…" I said it in an informative "just wanted to let you know" kind of way, and was not accusatory in the least.

Mr. K shot back, "You know what Steve? David is my son…and I love him very much, but…no, I don’t like him very much. Let me tell you why. First of all, I don’t care if he’s gay or not. That doesn’t matter to me. He’s my son and I love him. What does matter to me though, is how he treats his mother and I. He stays gone for days at a time, going out partying and drinking and spending my money. Then he comes home just long enough to eat my food, shower and sleep in my house, and then ask me for more money, just so he can go out party for two or three more days all over again! All of this, without so much as a thank you! [Remember, Mr K was a very successful, self-made man whose family had fled virtually penniless from the Greek civil war]. No Steve, I do not like him. I love him, but I DO NOT like him!"

I was somewhat taken aback with Mr K’s brutal honesty, but replied, "You know Mr K, today when David and I were talking, he said ‘I wish someone would kidnap me and take me to California!’"

This time, the metaphorical light bulb over Mr K’s head lit up like the Fourth of July! He enthusiastically burst out with, "REALLY? WOULD YOU? I’ll pay you to do it!"

Jim and I flashed eye contact, a wry half-smile (some might call it a "shit-eating grin") spread over both our faces. "Awww yeeah!" Jim asked him cooly, "How much?"

Mr K said , "Five hundred bucks!" Jim, Carmen Michael and I all quickly looked at each other and made a quick half-nod of acceptance. Jim spoke for all of us, "All right then, IT’S A DEAL!"

Next chapter…Adventures in Kidnapping Redux
...but it seemed like such a good idea at the time...

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Post by anticdevices » Thu Apr 08, 2004 9:23 am

This is SO my favorite thread. Ring, you make it VERY difficult to sneak a peek during working hours - and very difficult not to sneak a peek. I would like to encourage you to seriously consider spending some of your time developing a (couple of?) manuscript(s). You've got the imagination, (god help us) the experience and a wonderfully playful & clear way of expressing yourself. Definite Bill Fitzhugh vibe going on. I don't know if you'd get rich and have groupies or anything, but I'd be amazed if you didn't find the experience of becoming published quite satisfying.
O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend
The brightest heaven of invention - Henry V, Prologue

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When I was a kid...

Post by anticdevices » Thu Apr 08, 2004 9:27 am

It's not much more than filler, but here's my little confession:

How I Graduated from HS w/o Even Slightly Trying:
Back in the day I have to admit that I had very little respect for doing what I was supposed to be doing. (And yet I wound up a Burner. Fancy that.) This lack of respect manifested primarily in my sub-standard attendance at school. I'd be lucky to show up 3 days a month. It wasn't that I was uninterested in learning - I just wasn't interested in learning much of what was taught at school, and I wasn't afraid to vote with my feet. My freshman year I was expelled from 2 (Catholic) HS's, my Sophomore year 2 more (Public then Private). By this point I was old enough to drop out (quasi) legally, which I cheerfully did. Yet a year later, without ever darkening the door of any such institution, I had a HS diploma.

One of the requirements of being a dropout was that I had to have a job. Well, actually (as I analyzed it) the parental units required that I have money, with a strong emphasis that it be legally obtained. No prob. I mean, sure, my uncles had a thriving independent pharmaceutical distribution business, but that always looked too much like work to me. [I'll always remember my Uncle Tim telling me, "I know I'm not a junkie because I don't sell to 10 year olds."] Though the truth probably was I loathed the majority of my peers and drug dealing seemed to require regular contact. Fuck that.

Fortunately at my second-to-last HS I'd met Dr. N. He was vaguely affiliated with the HS, doing some state-sponsored(/government-grant paid) study or another through NWM University. One of the things he was looking at were those bright slacker-type kids, and somehow he was set on my trail. We kept in touch and at the age of 16 I became a Computer Consultant. Now this was back when dinosaurs roamed the earth, and my primary responsibility consisted of taking the 300 page nasty-ass report generated by the mainframe every week, plugging numbers into VisCalc on my Trash-80 and creating some intelligible information for various department VP's. (I later branched out into Computer Training, when Lotus 123 came out.) I made $17/hr and worked maybe 6 hours a week. Now back then, whippersnappers, bread was so cheap they actually paid you to carry out of the stores, and gas cost only slightly less than rain water. So $100 or so a week left me wealthy beyond the wildest dreams of Avarice. Ok, maybe not that rich, but I was making enough to keep the 'rental units off my back - especially as they had no clue how many hours I was actually working.

The biggest benefit of being a young snot-nosed know-it-all computer-guy was being able to hang out with all he other young snot-nosed know-it-all computer guys – especially those know-it-all computer guys who actually did know it all. And particularly those computer guys who were working on Dr. N’s project. You know, the one that gave them access to what databases HS’s had back then. Now most schools didn’t have much of any importance computerized back then, but the Chicago Public Schools did keep all its records centralized and computerized. Thank you Mayor Daley.

I’d love to describe the daring-do involved in inserting the record of my graduation from a Chicago PS into their database, but there wasn’t any. I did almost nothing. It was kind of a lark, and a friend did it to show me how it could be done. A week later I tested it to see if it worked by requesting a copy of my diploma. A year after that I sent that diploma to NCSU as part of my admissions package, where I was accepted.

As a postscript -
Once I had some college (yes, I dropped out of NCSU too) I never needed a HS diploma again… That is until about three years ago when I realized I needed to finally get a freeking degree. I’d always kinda wondered about that diploma I’d had, and whether it was still any good. The answer was no. Lincoln Park HS still has me as a student – apparently I earned 4 credit hours of PE (or something equally ridiculous), but not as a graduate. They must be counting all the times I jogged over there in my imagination. Which. You know. Wasn’t many. So I’m thinking a generous curve must have been involved.

Post-postscript –
In October we’re expecting our first child. My wife and I fully anticipate getting the child we deserve.
O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend
The brightest heaven of invention - Henry V, Prologue

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Post by theCryptofishist » Thu Apr 08, 2004 1:40 pm

CrimsonHaze wrote:Reading these stories really makes me feel like I wasn't that bad of a kid.
Reading these stories gives me some of the little convincing evidence of possible biological differences between men and women (or at least boys and girls.) I read all the adventures not only going--man this was stupid, but I knew at 8 years old this was stupid. Yes, I do have the twinges of jelousy, too, it aint clear-cut female superiority. But there's a definite strain of "Die young, but leave lots of offspring" flavor to these.
Oh well.

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RingO'Fire
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Post by RingO'Fire » Thu Apr 08, 2004 3:11 pm

anticdevices wrote:This is SO my favorite thread. Ring, you make it VERY difficult to sneak a peek during working hours - and very difficult not to sneak a peek. I would like to encourage you to seriously consider spending some of your time developing a (couple of?) manuscript(s). You've got the imagination, (god help us) the experience and a wonderfully playful & clear way of expressing yourself. Definite Bill Fitzhugh vibe going on. I don't know if you'd get rich and have groupies or anything, but I'd be amazed if you didn't find the experience of becoming published quite satisfying.
Wow! Thanks for the compliment, and for the inspiration too. I have thought, actually quite a bit, about publishing this story. I've just never "gotten around to it." Thanks to the positive responses I've gotten here so far, I definately will get a round tuit (I think they sell them at Cracker Barrel). Seriously though...I'm gonna do it.

I told my brother a couple of days ago that I was in the process of posting "his" story on the eplaya. He said, kinda worriedly, "I hope nobody takes our story and makes a movie out of it." This really is his favorite story too. A couple of weeks ago, Michael and I bought our dad's house (he's 69 and in the early stages of Alzheimer's dementia; dad and I still live in the house together). I was a little late to the closing, so when I walked in, my brother, the banker, and the title guaranty agent (a friend of my mom's) all turned and looked at me with these big 'ol ear to ear grins. "What? What's so funny?" . Banker Angela: "Your brother was just telling us a story about you..."

I've actually had to leave a lot of the little minor details out too, for the sake of space and time (see, it's a quantum mechanics, space-time problem), and to try to keep the "momentum" of the story going. I figure that nobody wants to read a novel (a novella, perhaps, but not a full-on novel) on the eplaya. Also, it takes about 1 to 2 hours to compose each "Chapter." I'm trying to get this out to you guys as fast as I can, so please be patient. I promise I won't leave you hangin' too long.

Oh, by the way, I've got a couple of other "epics" too, besides the kidnapping story. Maybe after I finish the "Kidnapping" epic, I'll regale you with the "How I Met the Guru and Became a Vegetarian" story. It's pretty classic as well, just as fun and just as long as this one.
...but it seemed like such a good idea at the time...

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Post by RingO'Fire » Thu Apr 08, 2004 3:26 pm

CrimsonHaze wrote:Reading these stories really makes me feel like I wasn't that bad of a kid. Now, I have my stories....but I wasn't as bad as my friend Ring O' Fire.
Hey you! You're still a bad kid! Oh, and "loose lips sink ships!" So, zip it, loose lucy! :| Actually, you couldn't embarass me anymore than I've already embarassed myself. Most people like to leave their skeletons in the closet. Hell, I've brought my skeletons out of the closet into broad daylight and then had them all line up and start dancin' around the eplaya in a conga line.
...but it seemed like such a good idea at the time...

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Silver
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Post by Silver » Thu Apr 08, 2004 6:12 pm

Ring,
I am truly enjoying your story and want to hear more; but, well, I know the real reason you are telling us all this: If we see you on the Playa you want to to say "Hey, there's the guy who kidnapped his brother" or "That guy tells great stories" NOT "Hey there goes the guy who put Icy Hot on his nuts."

My addition to the thread:
Do not blow up mesquite humps while stoned. You use too much dynamite and don't get far enough away.

New sig comiing, based on a mixed (burner/non-burner) party a couple of weeks ago.
My grandfather tried to raise me as a Southern gentleman, that means that I can be a real SOB some of the time.

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RingO'Fire
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Post by RingO'Fire » Thu Apr 08, 2004 9:08 pm

Silver wrote:Ring,
I am truly enjoying your story and want to hear more; but, well, I know the real reason you are telling us all this: If we see you on the Playa you want to to say "Hey, there's the guy who kidnapped his brother" or "That guy tells great stories" NOT "Hey there goes the guy who put Icy Hot on his nuts."
Silver,
You totally pegged me. [LOL-Literally] My friends here in Chatt-town give me shit all the time, because almost no matter where I go, I run into someone I know. "Damn Steve, do you know everyone in Chattanooga?" (Uh, no, that's like, uh, around 125,000 people) I would absolutely love it if one of you guys from the eplaya recognized me on the real playa, especially if it happened when my friend Megan was with me! She'll be all like, "Damn Steve, you know people everywhere!" Please come on up and say "Hi!" Hell, give me some shit for puttting Icy Hot on my balls; I don't care. I'll treat you to a beer!

I'll post Part VI of "The Kidnapping" story tomorrow. I have a half-day off from work for Good Friday and will write it tomorrow afternoon.

Tune it tomorrow to see if the dynamic duo escapes the dastardly deeds of destruction! Same "bat" time, same "bat" channel!
...but it seemed like such a good idea at the time...

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Post by angelface » Fri Apr 09, 2004 11:38 am

I'm really just waiting to hear the next installment of Ring O Fire's brother kidnapping story.. but for now, I have one funny one I can remember.

disclaimer: compared to most of you guys on here, I was a damn angel when I was a kid...

Lesson learned: If you're going to throw rocks at a beehive, be sure you can run real fast.

I was hanging out with the neighbor kids across the street (one boy, one girl) myself (girl) and my younger sister. Boy kid and I are standing around watching bees fly in and out of this nest and think it would be really funny to start throwing rocks at it and see what happens. About the time the bees are starting to get pissed, girl neighbor and sister walk up to see what's going on. A few seconds later, the bees start swarming at us, neighbor boy and I know what's going on and run like hell.. younger sister and neighbor girl are a bit slower to react. I think he and I came out of it without a single bee sting, neighbor girl was stung a handful of times, but my poor sister was stung something like 23 times. I thought my mother was going to kill me.

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The Kidnapping - Part 6

Post by RingO'Fire » Sat Apr 10, 2004 5:06 pm

THE TIME I KIDNAPPED MY BROTHER - PART VI - THE KEYSTONE COP KIDNAPPING CAPER

"All right then, IT’s A DEAL!" With this statement, we had now entered into a "contract", as far as we were concerned, to kidnap Mr K’s worthless mooching party-boy son, David. Jim said, "All right, we’ll do it, on one condition." Mr K inquired "What’s your condition?" Jim replied, "If we do this; if we kidnap David and take him with us, you can’t send him the money for a plane ticket the first time he calls you, crying about how much he hates it and wants to come home!" Mr K agreed that our one condition was fair and that he would abide by it.

Carmen piped in, "Uncle Nick, Jim and Steve can put David to work in their remodeling business. They can give him a job, teach him a trade, and make an honest man out of him!" Of course we could! We could do anything! Hell, we already had one successful kidnapping under our belt, and look how that one turned out! Things couldn’t be going any better!

Jim and I quickly agreed with Carmen, "Oh yeah, Mr. K, we’ll take David to California and then back to Tennessee with us, put him to work, and teach him how to earn an honest living." Well, actually, if Jim and I were going to teach David to be like us, then it would be more accurate to say that we would teach him how to earn a mostly honest, mostly legal living.

All of a sudden, at the prospect of earning five hundred bucks for the apparently "simple" task of kidnapping Carmen’s cousin, Jim and I completely forgot about our conversation earlier in the day. That five hundred dollar carrot dangling right there in front of our noses just smelled so tasty and delicious, after all "we could really use that money for our trip." So, we just forgot all about having decided earlier that day that David would probably make a shitty worker and would probably drive us crazy too. So, our greed, bravado, over-confidence, and conviction in the "rightness of our cause" swayed us to go against what, just a few hours earlier, had been our "better judgement."

David’s wants, desires, or will for his own life never even entered into our calculus. What he wanted was more or less irrelevant to us; it didn’t really matter. The little bitch was gonna do what we wanted, whether he liked it or not. After all, "it was for his own good."

Mr. K wrote us out a check for $500. The kidnapping would take place the following night, right before we left town. We would lure David over to his sister Julie’s house under the ruse of a "farewell" dinner, right before his cousin Carmen and her friends left town for California. Then, we would grab him up and whisk him away in the exact same way that we had abducted my brother Michael less than a week before. We reasoned that "The Plan" had worked so well the first time, why change it?

The next day, we packed some clothes for David, for his upcoming trip. We set up the farewell dinner with Carmen’s cousin Julie. David agreed to attend. Everything was going perfectly.

On a side note, that day, Jim told me, "Hey man, if you have to take a shit in David’s bathroom, take a look in the upper right-hand drawer!" He wouldn’t tell me what was in there though; he just told me to look for myself. Naturally, my curiosity was aroused. So, when nature called, I had to look. Inside David’s upper right-hand bathroom vanity drawer was…a paperback gay porno novel! The cover had an illustration of two cowboys, wearing nothing but cowboy hats and boots, with their giant schlongs hanging out. The "dominant" cowboy had a rope lasso around the neck and his finger hooked into the jaw of the "submissive" one, pulling his mouth open. I don’t remember the title, but I’m sure it was classic.

I opened the thin paperback at a random point in the middle of the book and started reading, "…Billy felt Rod’s strong hands grasp his shoulders from behind, the fingers pressing into Billy’s willing flesh. Rod forcefully bent him over the chow hall table. Rod gently parted Billy’s ass cheeks. Billy felt something hard and rounded start gently massaging his anus. He turned around to see Rod using the toe of his cowboy boot, rubbing round and round, partially penetrating…" Whoa! That was enough for me! Holy shit! Gay cowboys massaging each other’s anuses with their cowboy boots! Suddenly, I felt like some backwoods hick, like Gomer Pyle or cousin Goober (from the Andy Griffith show), "Goh uh aa uh aa lee! I ain’t never heared a’ nuthin like this a’fore!" Had I led a sheltered life after all? Man, I was learning all kinds of new stuff on this trip!

Late in the afternoon, we were all hanging out around the house, packing up and cleaning. Jim overheard part a telephone conversation David was having with one of his friends. They were making plans for later that evening, after our "farewell dinner." David told his buddy, "I’ll meet you at eight o’clock at The Loading Dock." Remember The Loading Dock? That was the gay dance club with the bathtubs in the back, where the patrons would take turns giving each other golden showers, the same place where David "would never go." A ha! Just as I suspected…

We said our goodbyes to Mr and Mrs K (wink wink) and headed over to cousin Julie’s for the farewell dinner. Dinner was excellent. Carmen and her cousin got a chance to reminisce about the good ol’ days after dinner. Then, it was time for us to go, so we said our goodbyes to Julie. Now, it was time for snatch and grab abduction number two. Let the kidnapping begin!

I must say too, my brother Michael was very enthusiastic about being part of the abduction team, instead of being the abductee. We decided to swap roles in the second kidnapping, just to keep things interesting. After all, if we were gonna be professional kidnappers, we all needed to be experienced at each of the kidnapping "stations." During the kidnapping planning session, we had decided that our assigned abduction stations would be: Jim = driver; Micheal = shover-inner-from-behinder, leg-thrower-inner and then hopper-thyself-inner; Carmen = door-slammer and shotgun passenger; I = grabber-under-the-armpitser, puller-inner and abductee-restrainer.

We all walked outside. It was "time." We all got into our positions. Carmen called our victim over, "Hey David, come here a minute! I wanna show you something!" David: "Oh, OK." Then he walked over to the open side door of the VW bus. Michael sidled right up next to and behind David; he didn’t suspect a thing. It was like leading a lamb to slaughter.

Jim, Carmen, Michael and I all looked quickly back and forth between each other and smiled the co-conspiratorial half-smile. Jim said out loud, nonchalantly, "Now?" David didn't catch on. We nodded. "O.K., NOW!"

With his full weight, as hard as he could, Michael shoved David from behind and launched him into the open van door (I think David got airborne). I grabbed him under the armpits and pulled him up and all the way into the inner corner of the van compartment. My brother quickly hopped in behind David. Carmen slammed the side door and hopped into the shotgun seat. One of Jim and Carmen’s dogs, Francisco, was going absolutely apeshit at all the commotion and was barking his head off. Of course, this alerted all the neighborhood dogs, who suddenly started barking their heads off too. Damn! The whole neighborhood’s gonna be out here in a few minutes! Let’s get the fuck outta here!

Jim turns the key to start the van and…rurr rurr rurr rurr….nothing happens! Rurr rurr rurr rurr. Fuck! The van won’t start! The dog is going nuts, the neighborhood dogs are going nuts, David is wriggling and wiggling and trying to get loose, and the fucking van won’t start! Jim and Michael hopped out, ran around to the back of the van, and opened the door into the engine compartment to try to figure out what was wrong. Jim was an excellent VW mechanic; he had a VW beetle and a VW fastback at home, in addition to the van. I was confident we’d be on our way in a few minutes, but was really nervous about all the attention that the barking dogs’ commotion might draw "DAMN! LET’S GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!"

David kept squirming, trying to get away. In his femmy, whiney voice, he was pleading, "Let me go! Let me go! What are you doing?" I told him, "We’re takin’ you to California, pal! Remember how you told me, ‘I wish somebody would kidnap me and take me to California’? Well, you’re getting your wish! So, you’d better just calm down and relax, cuz you’re comin’ with us!" David implored me, "NO! I can’t go to California! I have plans tonight!" I thought, "I’m sure you do, David; what’re you gonna do though? Gonna go get your asshole massaged with a cowboy boot and then let some dude piss on you?" By the way, he did have his cowboy boots on too!

While Jim and Michael were frantically monkeying around with the engine, trying to figure out what was wrong with the engine, David kept struggling, trying to get away. David was super-skinny and out of shape, probably only weighing about 120 pounds soaking wet. I weighed about 185 pounds and worked out 3-4 days per week, he was no match for me. I just sat behind him with my arms and legs wrapped around him; there was no way he could get up or get away. I was hoping he didn’t get "turned on" from me holding him so close. I didn’t want to hurt him, but I was not going to let him get away! (I knew that if I did let him get loose, Jim would give me all kinds of shit about it, "You let that skinny little runt get the best of you?...blah blah blah" and I did not want to listen to that bullshit). Every time he’d snake an arm loose, I’d just reach out and grab it and pull it back down to trap it at his side. The whole time he was pleading with me to let him go.

After what seemed like an eternity, although it was probably only about 10 minutes, Jim hopped into the driver seat, turned the key and…VROOM! The engine started! Hell yes! Michael shut the engine compartment door, opened the side door, hopped in and shut it behind him and WE’RE OFF!

Finally, we were "outta there!" We quickly got on I-10, heading west through Houston. The whole time, David was wriggling and squirming and trying to get loose. At this point, I’d been restraining and fighting against him for about 15-20 minutes. As we were blazing down the interstate at around 70 mph (and that is blazing in a VW van!), I relaxed my grip on David. In a flash, he leapt up from the floor to the front of the van, and grabbed the steering wheel! We were driving down the road at 70 mph! In a blur of motion, Jim instinctively "popped" David right in the mouth with the heel of his palm. David’s lip split open and began bleeding. David exclaimed, "You hit me!" Then he collapsed on the floor and began crying. I felt sorry for him, but what we were doing "was for his own good." Wasn't it?

For the record, Jim really didn’t hit him all that hard. His lip wasn’t gushing blood or anything; it was just bleeding a little. Jim had to do something, hell, the little fucker could’ve killed us!

So off we sped into the night, another successful kidnapping under our belt. "Damn, we're getting good at this!"

Next stop…El Paso! Or so we thought……

Next chapter…….Lost in Texas!
Stay tuned
...but it seemed like such a good idea at the time...

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calsur
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Post by calsur » Sat Apr 10, 2004 8:35 pm

So let me get the list of crimes straight.

For the original kidnapping, you have Conspiracy to commit Kidnapping because you enlisted others, Kidnapping, Assault and Battery and because you transported the kidnappy across State lines there is some Federal beef you broke but I do not know what the exact term would be.

So then you formed a second Conspiracy to Kidnap, you accepted payment for Kidnapping, Kidnapping and Assault and Battery with bodily injury.

Plus I think you could be charged under RICO (Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations) statutes.

Did I miss anything?

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calsur
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Yes, I did miss something

Post by calsur » Sun Apr 11, 2004 12:25 am

Yes, I did miss something.

Ring,

I LOVE your posts

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Silver
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Post by Silver » Sun Apr 11, 2004 7:47 am

because almost no matter where I go, I run into someone I know
Its the hair and beard, for me it is my hight and hair. For years I was a very active soccer dad -- coaching, guest coaching, my son playing and guest playing in tournaments. I was always running across people I had met at these activities and while I might not remember them right away, they knew me. There are few 6'3"+ men with shoulder length hair running around, just as there are very few Eric the Red look-a-likes running around. Anyway, it is starting to happen again in the Burner community, a couple of weeks ago I was at a party here in DC when a couple I had met for a few minutes at Decom in New York came up and started talking, I must have met 300+ people that day and night and had no clue who they were. Note: for those of you at Decom, I was the tall guy helping Fatboy do the safety inspection and then helped with hauling the saw horses and other crap out of Sealspace, that night I was the guy in the silver robe handing out chocolates and condoms.

Ring, while the number of folks who hit eplaya is very small compared to the number of people on the playa if you keep the beard and hair I am sure that one or more of us will spot you.
My grandfather tried to raise me as a Southern gentleman, that means that I can be a real SOB some of the time.

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RingO'Fire
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Post by RingO'Fire » Sun Apr 11, 2004 12:07 pm

calsur wrote:So let me get the list of crimes straight.

For the original kidnapping, you have Conspiracy to commit Kidnapping because you enlisted others, Kidnapping, Assault and Battery and because you transported the kidnappy across State lines there is some Federal beef you broke but I do not know what the exact term would be.

So then you formed a second Conspiracy to Kidnap, you accepted payment for Kidnapping, Kidnapping and Assault and Battery with bodily injury.

Plus I think you could be charged under RICO (Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations) statutes.

Did I miss anything?
Nope, I think that about covers it so far. I think the Federal beef is something like "crossing State lines during the commission of a felony" or some minor technicality like that.

Oh wait, you left out possession of a loaded gun in the van (I forget the technical name for that crime). Plus, we were also in "possession" of illegal hallucinogenic substances. Those two things, plus all the ones you listed, just about sums it up.

I did think about the fact that I'm admitting to all these crimes in a public forum before I started posting this story. Honestly, I was more concerned about violating the eplaya TOS or somehow besmirching Bman's reputation than I was about any potential run-in with law enforcement authorities. I've also tried to be very careful to use euphemisms, rather than explicit names, when discussing the subject of mind-altering substances. I further reasoned that since (a) nobody pressed any charges, (b) nobody really got hurt, (c) nobody harbors any ill feelings today, (d) 20 years has elapsed since this story took place, and (e) the DA's in the jurisdictions where these crimes were committed probably have better things to do than try to prosecute 20-year crimes in which no one got hurt, that I should be OK. If worse comes to worst, I'll claim that this is a work of fiction and that I made it all up. (BTW, I am not making this up).
...but it seemed like such a good idea at the time...

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Post by RingO'Fire » Sun Apr 11, 2004 12:26 pm

Silver wrote:
because almost no matter where I go, I run into someone I know
Its the hair and beard, for me it is my hight and hair.

Ring, while the number of folks who hit eplaya is very small compared to the number of people on the playa if you keep the beard and hair I am sure that one or more of us will spot you.
Silver,
You're a pretty perceptive fella. Once again, I think you nailed it. People have told me many times, usually when I've met them three of four times and still can't remember their names, "Hey, it's OK man. There's only one of you [i.e., freaky long-red-haired bearded tie-dye dudes] and there's a bunch of us."

I'm looking forward to seeing you out on the playa. I'll look for the tall guy with the long silver hair.

I'm hoping to get "Kidnapping - Part VII" posted by Tuesday or so, but will definately have it done by Wednesday night. Work is completely insane right now and I have a physics test (on magnetism and electromagnetic waves - it's both conceptually and mathematically difficult material) on Wednesday afternoon that I am not yet ready for. I promise I'll continue to get the story out as fast as I can.
...but it seemed like such a good idea at the time...

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Post by CrimsonHaze » Wed Apr 14, 2004 4:51 pm

Well, I've been racking my brain for something really bad I did as a child, but I must say, nothing compares to my buddy Ring. I did countless acts of vandalism, but nothing like spraying four foot high obscenities on people's cars. I didn't ever partake of any 'substances' until about a year and a half ago. I never remember any acts of cross-dressing. And I have yet to plan or execute a kidnap.
But, alas, I did have a similar IcyHot story.

A helpfull hint when applying IcyHot to a pulled muscle. Make sure to wash your hands as soon as you are done and never scratch an itch in a femine place, even though you are wearing underwear. And try not to plan an incident like this right before going to work. Also, it may be better not to tell your family members about it.
"Never drive 'up' the 'off' ramp."
Doctor: What do you do when you're sad?"
Patient: I smoke crack!
Doctor: What do you do when you're angry?
Patient: I smoke crack and I masturbate!
(Heard by a friend, an orderly taking notes.)

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CrimsonHaze
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Post by CrimsonHaze » Wed Apr 14, 2004 5:10 pm

CrimsonHaze wrote:
Reading these stories really makes me feel like I wasn't that bad of a kid. Now, I have my stories....but I wasn't as bad as my friend Ring O' Fire.


Hey you! You're still a bad kid!


Well, maybe I am still a bad kid. Maybe stuffing a towel under the bedroom door, lighting several sticks of incense, propping the window open and 'elevating' my mind is bad. *wink*


Let's see, a story or youthful indescretion. Hmmm...Day camp. Day camp was one of the highlights of my summer. Not because I would get to stand in a circle and sing kumbaya and make crafts, but because of all the terror you could reek on the poor counselors. The first order of business was finding and teaming up with my best friend, Haley. I don't think I could have been quite as horrible without her. We would quickly form a plan, then dash away from the group in opposite directions. Since the entire group of kids was together, all the counselors couldn't run after us. So we would have 1, maybe 2 chasing each of us. Since Day camp took place at a church, there were plenty of places to hide. One of my favorite being under a pew in one of the sunday school classrooms. Once, it was almost time to leave and the counselors were searching for us. I took refuge in a classroom, hiding under the pew farthest from the door. The person chasing me was a guy who must have weighed 250 pounds. Easy to evade. He came into the classroom and sat in the very last row, farthest from the door. (I would have sat right next to door.) He told me he was gonna wait until I came out, even if he had to wait for hours. So, knowing I would have to give up soon or my parents would be called, I belly-crawled my way to the second to last pew. I could see his head over the pew, but he didnt seem to notice me on the floor. So I sprang to my feet and ran out of the room. He never caught me, but I had to turn myself in to catch the bus ride home.
So, after we were caught the first time of the day, we would wait for another opprotunity to run again. The counselors caught on quick, so they separated us into two different groups. But, they're efforts weren't enough to keep us at bay. We both ran away again and met up under a big pine tree in the front lawn. This tree was so huge, we could climb up in the branches and never be found.

Alas, I will have to continue this later. There is a few pretty good tales from Day Camp.
"Never drive 'up' the 'off' ramp."
Doctor: What do you do when you're sad?"
Patient: I smoke crack!
Doctor: What do you do when you're angry?
Patient: I smoke crack and I masturbate!
(Heard by a friend, an orderly taking notes.)

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Post by CrimsonHaze » Wed Apr 14, 2004 5:13 pm

Well, damn, I geuss Ill figure out the quote thing next time.
"Never drive 'up' the 'off' ramp."
Doctor: What do you do when you're sad?"
Patient: I smoke crack!
Doctor: What do you do when you're angry?
Patient: I smoke crack and I masturbate!
(Heard by a friend, an orderly taking notes.)

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