Youthful Indescretions

RingO'Fire · Post by **RingO'Fire** » Sun Mar 28, 2004 2:23 pm

More lessons learned from creative mischief...

Question: If your uncle's house is built on a bowl-shaped outcrop of sandstone, can you and your cousin fill up the basement like a swimming pool by dumping wheelbarrows full of water into the basement door?
Answer: Yes you can!
Question: If you make a lake in your uncle's basement, can you make little globular boats out of the live-in handyman's shaving cream?
Answer: Once again, yes you can!
Question: If you make a lake with floating shaving cream boats in your uncle's basement, will he bust a gasket, go apoplectic, and whip both you and your cousin's asses with a belt on the spot?
Answer: Once again, affirmative!

This one's for the parents out there...When going out dining and dancing with your friends for the evening, be sure to take the keys to your pickup truck that you're leaving at home with you. Otherwise, your 15-year old son may decide to "borrow" your truck and take it out joyriding with all his other underage buddies to impress them. Lack of a driver's license or any driving experience whatsoever will not deter the determined joyrider. To cover his tracks, the clever little fucker may also wash off all the mud from the four-wheeling he did while you were out having a pleasant evening. Take the keys with you!

We did this about 5-6 times, with alcohol when we could get it, othertimes without, before getting busted by a local cop, who was (of course) a friend of my dad. He was following us, could see that we didn't know how to drive (I'm sure it was obvious), and pulled us over. The conversation that followed went something like this:
"Wild, lemme see your license." (in thick southern accent)
"Uh, I don't have one, Officer Hawkins."
"So, you're out drivin' around without a license? Whose truck is this?"
"Uh, it's my dad's sir."
"Tell ya what I'm goin' to do, Wild. I'm gonna follow you back to your house, and don't let me ever catch you out here driving without a license again!"
"Yessir" (Internal dialog: "Yeah! Uh-huh! I'm not busted! Hell yeah!")
"And one more thing, Wild. I want you to have your daddy call me tomorra mornin'. ('What?! Ohhhhh Nooooo!'). Now if your daddy don't call me tomorra mornin', THEN I'M GONNA CALL HIM! So, it's up to you, Wild, he can either call me, or I'm gonna call him...and I imagine it's gonna be a whole lot worse for you if I call him."
"Yessir, thank you Officer Hawkins sir. I'll have my dad call you tomorrow."

The next morning, "Dad, uh, you'll never guess what I did last night..."
Boy, was dad pissed off! I was too big for an ass-whippin' at this point, but did get grounded for a long time (again).

BTW too, when I mention gettin' ass-whippin's in these stories, my parents were not cruel or abusive, but they had to have some kind of deterrent for their curious, mischevious, "spirited" son. Funny though, you would think that they would have been more of a deterrent than they actually were. Hmmm...

Ugly Dougly · Post by **Ugly Dougly** » Sun Mar 28, 2004 2:34 pm

Retirement is wasted on the elderly.

RingO'Fire · Post by **RingO'Fire** » Tue Mar 30, 2004 6:23 am

More lessons learned...

BTW, if you haven't noticed already, this is my absolute favorite thread on the eplaya. Please let me know if, as we say in the south, I'm "wearin' you out" with this stuff.

I've never compiled all the crazy shit we (mostly I or my cousin and I) did when we were kids. Mostly, the topic of a particular conversation with someone would spark a memory, "Oh, that reminds me of the time..." When I started consciously accessing all those memories, and posting them for your enjoyment, I thought, "My God! I must've driven my parents nearly crazy! My mom deserves a medal!" So, I emailed the link for the eplaya and directions to this thread to my mom. Mom, if you're reading this, you're the greatest!

RingO'Fire · Post by **RingO'Fire** » Tue Mar 30, 2004 6:27 am

Now, more lessons learned...

You CAN pay your admission into the local public swimming pool with silver dollars from your dad's coin collection.

Banana-seat, long-handlebar bikes are good for jumping off of homemade bike ramps. However, skinny-tire, 10-speed bikes are NO GOOD for jumping off of ramps.

(This one is personally painful to remember. With all my buddies watching, I came barrelin' ass down the big hill in front of the ramp, hit the ramp, "bomp BOMP". The back tire's impact made me fly up off the seat, legs all akimbo, but I didn't let go of the handlebars. As I was arcing through the air, the front wheel starting tilting down toward the ground. For those of you who haven't done any bike jumping, this is NOT the attitude you want to be in when you hit the ground. You know how time slows down during those times when you know severe pain is immanent? It was just like that
"OOOOOOOOhhhhhhhhhhh nnnnnnnnoooooooo, tttttthhhhhhiiiiisss iiiisss gggoooiiinnnggg tttooo hhhuuurrrttt!!!!!!!!"
BAM! The bike landed on the front wheel. I landed on the cross bar. Unfortunately though, my balls were right there between the cross bar and the full weight of my torso, under the acceleration of gravity. I collapsed into the ditch, holding my nuts. My buddies, of course, thought this was hilarious and fell over themselves laughing.)

After a night of underage drinking and whatnot, DO NOT go to your grandmother's house at midnight to wash the puke off the side of your car.
(My cousin's brilliant idea. I had puked out the window all down the side of his car. My grandmother, who had raised four boys of her own, all reputed "rounders" themselves, knew exactly what was up, but was cool about it.)

RingO'Fire · Post by **RingO'Fire** » Tue Mar 30, 2004 6:30 am

Hash (not the corned beef kind) and ice skating don't go together.

robotland · Post by **robotland** » Tue Mar 30, 2004 7:22 am

When you get to the Playa, don't let 'em catch you throwing rocks at Old Man Harvey's dome......

RingO'Fire · Post by **RingO'Fire** » Tue Mar 30, 2004 10:02 am

I think I'll spraypaint a giant red cussword, how 'bout "FUCK!", on the side of it.
Someone just point it out to me.
If anyone gets mad, I'll smile and claim I was "just being interactive!"

RingO'Fire · Post by **RingO'Fire** » Wed Mar 31, 2004 6:02 am

Your mom's Elvis records (the really rare and valuable little 45's on the "Sun" label) make great frisbees. Well, actually they're really crappy frisbees. They don't fly straight and the first time one hits the pavement, it shatters into about a hundred pieces! Once we discovered this, we would intentionally fling them straight up into the air over the street, just to watch them shatter when they landed. "That was cool! Let's do it again!" (Mom had a foot-high stack of 45's from when she was a teenager, we destroyed about a third of them, including the afore-mentioned Elvis records).

RingO'Fire · Post by **RingO'Fire** » Wed Mar 31, 2004 6:19 am

If you're going on a nighttime raid to hang a banner on your high school football field press box that says, "Red Raiders are Masturbators!" (the Red Raiders were the opposing team from the uppity private school the next day, I had gone there for two years and hated it), remember:

1. Don't get stoned before you hang the banner up.

2. When getting stoned before you hang your banner, don't turn the flame control on your new lighter all the way up, and then look into the end of the lighter while you try to light it (my buddy Dick burned his right eyelashes and half his eyebrow off).

3. Paint the banner before you hang it up on the press box. Don't hang it first and then start spray painting.

4. Check first to make sure there aren't any football players lurking about at late practice who:

a. Won't think you're supporting them, but will think you're vandalizing their school

b. Will not stop to ask questions before they start chasing you to beat your ass

c. Will pound on the windows of your car while you speed out of the parking lot

5. Don't tell the head cheerleader in your math class of your intentions the day before. Otherwise, the cheerleaders will pull down your banner, that you almost got your ass kicked for, at 2 am when they return from an "away" basketball game.

Zephryus · Post by **Zephryus** » Wed Mar 31, 2004 6:33 am

God damn, Ring, you were some kind of Uber-Robo-Rotten-Little-Basterd prototype that never made it into production but managed to escape into the wild. You're bastard enough for all of us.

This doesn't trip the property destruction radar, but my sixth grade class was full of little bastards. So much so that we managed to collectively drive away no less than eight P.E. instructors in the space of two months. Our original instructor was the coolest guy ever, and when he left midway through the year, they should have known that we wouldn't tolerate any imitations. (We didn't scare him off. He was moving. Honest.) So when the new instructor came in, we pulled out every nasty, evil, fuck-with-the-teacher trick we knew. We did everything from run of the mill disrespect like talking constantly and not doing the exercises to out and out evil like referring to the instructor by every dirty/insulting variation of their name we could come up with and actively picking fights during class. At one point or another, we all did something worthy of a suspension, but since we were all doing it at the exact same time and we were always careful to do it when we were out of sight of any other teachers, the authority figures felt powerless. This culminated with Poor Sap #8 going so far as to bribe us with candy to be good for a day. We took his candy, told the principal on him, and watched him get canned. After that episode, the principal finally caved and told us that we wouldn't be having P.E. for the rest of the year. No, seriously. They replaced it with "free play" -i.e. recess inreturn for our implicit agreement that we wouldn't pull any of that shit in our other classes. We knew a good deal when we saw one.
So for all you teachers out there: No, you're not paranoid. Sometimes the little fuckers are out to get you.

RingO'Fire · Post by **RingO'Fire** » Wed Mar 31, 2004 6:35 am

A .22 bullet will only go about halfway through a high-school history book.

When lowering the cocked hammer of a loaded .22 rifle, make sure you have a firm grip on the hammer. Otherwise, the hammer may slip, the gun will fire inside your friend's house, a load of "rat shot" may get sprayed onto your friend's hearth, and his dad will get really mad.

Never assume, when you're out shooting at "dumpster cats" with your .22 pistol, that the gun isn't loaded. Otherwise, you can shoot a hole through the roof of your Chevy Impala. (Hey, I didn't do this one, my buddies, the twins Perry & Terry, whose dad was a taxidermist and both of whom later became fashion models, did it).

Zephryus · Post by **Zephryus** » Wed Mar 31, 2004 6:37 am

er, small edit: that bit in the middle should read "...actively picking fights with said instructor during class..." and not one-on-one, but the entire class at once. And then lying about the whole thing to the other teachers. We were pathologic.

Zephryus · Post by **Zephryus** » Wed Mar 31, 2004 6:42 am

Y'know, as bad as we were, we never got around to playing with firearms. Of coure, we grew up in the middle of East Oakland where the only people with guns were very, very bad people. Damn damn near anally violated a neighborhood dog with a pellet gun once, though.

Zephryus · Post by **Zephryus** » Wed Mar 31, 2004 6:46 am

And of course nothing can beat the joy of sniping at cop cars. God, we hated those cops. And with good reason; they were murderous assholes.

(Note to the sensitive: My view on law enforcement has matured over time. But as any Oakland resident can tell you, the OPD has a shitty reputation.)

RingO'Fire · Post by **RingO'Fire** » Wed Mar 31, 2004 1:38 pm

Zephryus wrote:Y'know, as bad as we were, we never got around to playing with firearms. Of coure, we grew up in the middle of East Oakland where the only people with guns were very, very bad people.

Down here in "sumbitch" country, or "biscuitland" as my buddy Joel from Hawaii calls it, owning a gun was almost a birthright. It's changed quite a bit since I grew up, but back then, most of us had guns by the time we were in middle school. Our parents taught us that a gun was very serious business indeed, taught us basic gun safety, and then turned us loose. (Notwithstanding the gun safety lectures, I had been watching too much TV when I tried to let the hammer down on my buddy Dave's .22 and shot off a round of rat shot in his house). We didn't roam the streets with guns or anything like that. Usually, we only got to shoot the guns when we went out into the country on farms and isolated places like that.

My dad and his brothers had a 120-acre horse and cattle farm for several years, about an hour from our house, where we used to go shooting and riding horses. Mostly, we just shot bottles and the occasional little critter (squirrels, birds, turtles, etc.). Although I once watched my cousin open up his 20 gauge shotgun on a little yellow bird about the size of a canary from a distance of about 10 feet. BOOM! Then there was just a kind of "spray" of little yellow feathers. Nothing was left of the bird. I have to admit, it made me a little sad and I thought my cousin was an asshole for doing it.

Alpha · Post by **Alpha** » Wed Mar 31, 2004 2:06 pm

A can of run-off paint thinner and Bondo is effectively napalm, when ignited and distributed by an M-80.

You CANNOT stamp out napalm with rubber-soled shoes.

RingO'Fire · Post by **RingO'Fire** » Wed Mar 31, 2004 2:06 pm

UPDATE: My mom did read this thread and would like to offer the following correction. She said that she probably should have offered to buy all of neighbors paint jobs for their cars, that it would've been the right thing to do, but that we would probably have had to live in a tent afterwards. Mom also said I was using too much profanity on this thread. She didn't say anything about the rest of you fuckers' language though. Better "watch it!" just in case; don't wanna make mom mad!

I never openly picked fights with the authority figures (teachers, cops, etc). I was just a smartass, vandal, and always ready for an adventure. I figured my best revenge against the authorities was to be my smartass self, but do it while making really good grades and otherwise "playing the game." Some of my teachers really hated that even more, because they couldn't just dismiss me as some kind of low-life smartass loser. I've always been a "yahoo!, full-throttle, full-speed-ahead, damn-the-torpedoes" kind of guy. I've mellowed a bit with age, but I'm still a smartass. Everything I've posted is stuff that I actually did or had happen to me too, except where I give "not me" disclaimers.

I do have a few more stories too. I'll continue to bust them out for your reading pleasure. I have one tale of epic proportions that I'm saving until I run out of the short stories. I'll have to post it in installments when I do break it out.

dragonfly Jafe · Post by **dragonfly Jafe** » Wed Mar 31, 2004 2:39 pm

Whenever one is developing a canon that shoots projectiles that explode on contact, it is essential that you know what is down range before firing (young girls playing with dolls behind bushes are especially bad). Explaining to authority figures that you were merely developing a new weapon system for the upcoming 4th of July "fireworks wars" should not be expected to mitigate the resulting punishment. YMMV - Jafe

dragonfly Jafe · Post by **dragonfly Jafe** » Wed Mar 31, 2004 2:45 pm

When one is synthesizing an explosive compound for the first time, do not assume that merely because the resulting mixture does not immediately explode when initiated that the same will be true a few days later (after said mixture has time to adequately dry). This is especially true for shock-sensitive compounds. And whatever you do, DO NOT, under any circumstances, place the entire shock-sensitive mixture that results in a glass vial that you then place in your front pocket. You could trip while you are walking out to the south 40...

(corallary - do not mix shock sensitive compounds in a plastic container with a metal knife). YMMV - Jafe

dragonfly Jafe · Post by **dragonfly Jafe** » Wed Mar 31, 2004 5:39 pm

BTW - in reference to both of my previous posts...

"it seemed like a good idea at the time...." Jafe

Silver · Post by **Silver** » Wed Mar 31, 2004 6:47 pm

RingOFire,

You have made me feel much better about the stuff my son has done. Though, I will admit that his "Hey, when you gonna be home, I just got shot' is still pretty good.

RingOFire's mom, why is he still alive or at least not hiding out in Terra del Fugeo?

About the shot, I now know that a match quality air pistol has the power to drive a pellet 8 inches through leg muscle (took surgery to get it out). The rule was that if his idiot friends came over all weapons had to be locked up, that rule was broken. Idiot friend did not realize that match weapons have hair triggers. Idiot son did not realize that not everyone has had basic safety lessons.

RingO'Fire · Post by **RingO'Fire** » Thu Apr 01, 2004 6:38 am

dragonfly Jafe wrote:And whatever you do, DO NOT, under any circumstances, place the entire shock-sensitive mixture that results in a glass vial that you then place in your front pocket. You could trip while you are walking out to the south 40...

OK, I'm curious, what does happen when you trip with a vial full of shock-sensitive compound in your front pocket?

RingO'Fire · Post by **RingO'Fire** » Thu Apr 01, 2004 6:43 am

Silver wrote:RingOFire's mom, why is he still alive or at least not hiding out in Terra del Fugeo?

I've been asking myself the same question since I started posting all my misdeeds and misadventures. I just had this sort of vague memory of being "in trouble" a lot. When I started listing them out, I thought, "DAMN! I was a rotten kid!" I have a lot more respect for my mom now.

dougaldutch · Post by **dougaldutch** » Thu Apr 01, 2004 7:36 am

When stealing a steam roller for a joy ride, do not expect power steering or sympathy if you get caught. We were converting our steading (old stone cow shed) into a house and needed the small steam roller for compacting down the floors. So one night me and a few friends decided it would be a piece of piss to hot wire. Somehow despite our ignorance of all things electrical and the alcohol consumed, the thing actually fired up. So 10 min of joy riding fun ensue, crushing everything that got in our path, but there is only so much fun you can have travelling at 3mph. Until that is we discover the vibrate function, YEEE-HAA it now has even more crushing power. It did become slightly harder to control and we were still driving around in the steading when we hit the wall. It had only been put up that day, so it was as suprised as us when it was on it's way down just 6 hours later. We hopped off, took one look at the masonry covered roller and weighed up our options and legged it. It was found still running in the morning and had sunken itself right into the newly laid floor, covered in bricks and mortar from the recently demolished wall.

It took my folks approximately 2 seconds to figure who had done it, the day was spent suffering a major underage hangover (before you have enough experience to realise you probably wont die) digging out the roller, relaying the floor and building back up the wall.

2 important things were learned, yes you are only going 3mph but that still means you have to look where you are going and always have an alibi prepared before you joy ride vehicles on your own property where you are the only suspect. That alibi better be bloody good as well.

Lee

RingO'Fire · Post by **RingO'Fire** » Thu Apr 01, 2004 11:37 am

When breaking into your friend's house on spring break to watch his dad's collection of 8mm porno films, make sure that his parents won't be coming home in the middle of the day while you're inside their house.

I was a budding young pervert of around 13-14 (I guess I'm a fully grown one now). My buddy Dave made the mistake of showing me his parents' stash of hardcore porno mags, 8mm porn films, and adult "toys." Back then, there wasn't free porn 24/7 on the internet, no sir! Getting your hands on hardcore porn was like...finding a hidden treasure!

I was going to a private school and was on a different spring break schedule than all my public school buddies. Early in the week, I unlocked one of the back doors, one that I knew they never used and probably wouldn't check, that opened into the laundry room. On the fateful day, I let myself into Dave's house and headed for the porn. I set up the projector in Dave's bedroom and threaded the film, anticipating a nice long, slow, well...er...you know, while watching porno films.

All of sudden, I hear the sound of a car pulling into the carport! "Holy shit! It's Darla and Hardy, Dave's parents! Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck! What do I do now?! I gotta hide!" So I dashed into and hid in the shower IN THEIR BATHROOM! Fortunately, there was a little tile wall between the toilet and the shower where I was hiding (this is important later).

They came in the house and immediately found the projector all set up in Dave's bedroom. I could hear the conversation from my hiding place. "Look at this! David has our projector set up in his room! He probably set it up before he went to school so that he and his buddies could watch it when they got home! Wait till he gets home! I'm going to write him a note telling him not to go anywhere, because he is in BIG TROUBLE!" My heart was racing. I was trying really hard to be as quiet as possible and not to freak out. While I was hiding in her bathroom, Dave's mom came in and took a piss in the toilet about three feet away from where I was hiding! Finally, they left. I left a few minutes later.

Dave got in BIG TROUBLE, just as his parents had said. Dave, of course, was mystified and thought another kid at his school, a notorious "bad apple" had done the deed. I, of course, kept my damn mouth shut, for about 10 years, that is. Years later, Dave and I started hanging out again, but the guilt was too much and I had to 'fess up' to my buddy. I told him that I was the one who had actually broken into his house and set up the porno projector. "YOU did that?! I always thought it was Tim S_____!" Dave did forgive me, but never missed an opportunity to give me shit about it. I guess I deserved it.

RingO'Fire · Post by **RingO'Fire** » Thu Apr 01, 2004 9:23 pm

OK, that last one may have been a little heavy and not too funny. I'm suffering "poster's regret" if there is such a thing. Actually, I know there is (ref. "Apology" thread). Sorry if I creeped anyone out. I was 13 or so and a rotten little shit back then. I'm a much older and hopefully wiser person now.

Alright, here's my true epic tale. I'll end it with this one, but it will take a few installments. This is my brother's favorite story. I call this story, "THE TIME I KIDNAPPED MY BROTHER."

The year was 1984. "Purple Rain" was on the airwaves and Ronnie and Nancy Ray Gun were telling us to "just say 'No!'" I was 22 and my brother was 19. My brother, Michael, had been dating this girl Angie (age 18) for about three years when they announced that they were getting married. Oh joy!

Neither I nor my family particularly cared for Angie, since she was as "dull as a doorknob", "a bump on a log", "a stick in the mud", etc. This girl didn't have much personality and had absolutely no drive or ambition. My brother, on the other hand, was very friendly, outgoing and gregarious (like me!). When I looked into my brother's future with Angie, I saw him working his ass off to support the two of them, while her lazy fat ass was (a) going to get pregnant right away, and (b) going to stay home and watch TV and eat all day and not do a damned thing while she continually got fatter and fatter.

We (my parents and I) all tried to talk them out of it, without really being blunt to my brother about how we really felt about Angie. "You're too young! Wait a little while!" Oh no! They wouldn't have it. I made up my mind though, "There is no way in hell I am just going to stand by and watch while my brother marries that lazy fat-ass bitch!"

At the time, I was living in a kind of "communal house" owned by a couple, Jim and Carmen. Jim, Carmen, and I had been planning for about three months to take an extended road trip out to the west coast. We had all been working extra jobs and saving our money for the trip.

I had begged and begged my brother to come with us, but he was trying to save money for the wedding and wouldn't hear of it. Hell, I even offered to pay his way if he would "just come with us!" I figured that if he ever got a glimpse of the "possibilities" (i.e., super cool west coast women) that were out there in the rest of the world, he would forget all about dumb ol' Angie. He said that he was tempted, but just couldn't afford to miss work and didn't want to leave Angie. Wah!

The night before we were going to leave, Jim and Carmen and I were sitting around our living room, taking shots of Jack Daniels and smoking green flower buds. The conversation went something like this,
Me: "Damn! Man, I wish my brother would come with us! Instead, he's going to stay here and marry that dumb bitch Angie!"
Jim [offhandedly]: "Hell man, we oughtta just kidnap him and bring him with us."
Me [light bulb over my head lighting up like a damned lighthouse searchlight]: "Hell YES! That's IT! Let's fuckin' kidnap his ass!"
Jim: "Are you serious?"
Me: "HELL YES I'm serious! Let's kidnap his ass and take him to California with us! Let's do it!"
Jim: "Alright, I'm game!"
Carmen: "Count me in!"
Me: "HELL YES! We're gonna kidnap my brother and take him to California with us!"

That's how the conspiracy first began....
Next installment.....the kidnapping!

robotland · Post by **robotland** » Fri Apr 02, 2004 5:43 am

Oh boy, a cliffhanger! Next chapter, please!

RingO'Fire · Post by **RingO'Fire** » Fri Apr 02, 2004 2:15 pm

THE TIME I KIDNAPPED MY BROTHER - PART II - 'YOU'RE COMIN' WITH US, BUD!"

After we made the decision to kidnap my brother, Michael, and bring him to California with us, we started to flesh out "the Plan." The next day, I would go my folks' place and get a bunch of his clothes, toiletries, etc. that he would need on the trip, essentially packing his shit for the trip for him. I would set up a meeting with my brother so we could all get together and "say goodbye" before our long road trip.

I got all his stuff as planned and called him to set up the meeting at my parents' new house (they had just bought a new house, but hadn't yet moved into it). My brother agreed. "The Plan" was coming together.

Later that afternoon, just before sundown, we met at my parents' new house (I swear I am not making these place names up) on Possum Creek in beautiful Soddy-Daisy, TN. The only problem was, when my brother showed up, he had Angie with him! Shit! My attitude was, "Oh well, this is going to suck for Angie, but let the chips fall where they may!"

Now, we were going to be traveling in Jim's VW microbus, which we had worked on for a long time getting ready for the trip. Jim, Carmen, and I had worked out a detailed kidnapping plan that we were going to swiftly execute on signal between the three of us.

The abduction plan was this: First, we would lure Michael over to the open sliding van door. Jim would crawl inside and sit on the bean bag chair in the floor. Carmen would climb into the drivers seat and be ready to fire up the engine at a moment's notice. I would stand up close behind my brother. On the signal, I would shove him, hard!, into the open door, Jim would grab him under the armpits and pull him in, I would throw his feet in (if they were still hanging out). While we were grabbing him up, Carmen would fire up the engine, then I'd slam the door, hop in, and away we go!

So there we were up at my folk's new place on Possum Creek, making small talk while we waited for just the right time to execute "The Plan." My adrenaline was pumping, I was kind of "twitchy" with butterflies in my stomach. Carmen snuck into my brother's truck and grabbed his tennis shoes and wallet and threw them into the VW bus. After a while, it was time!

Me: "Hey Michael, come on over here and check out the van and see where we're going to be living for the next six weeks or so!"
Michael: "OK" [walks over] "Wow you guys this is really cool! Man, you guys are gonna have SO much fun! Hey?! [looking at his wallet on the floor of the van] I have a wallet just like that one! In fact, that kind of looks like my wallet! HEY! That IS my wallet! What's my wallet doin' in this van?!"

In a split second, Jim, Carmen and I made the "knowing" co-conspirator eye contact. The telepathic message between us was "Now or never! OK, NOW!" I shoved him in. Jim quickly grabbed him and pulled him the rest of the way in. Carmen fired up the engine; I slammed the door, hopped in, and we're off!

We waved "bye" to Angie as we raced out of the driveway. She stood there waving back too, but with this funny, quizzical "what's goin' on?" kind of look on her face.

So far, everything was going perfectly according to the plan! Awesome! Little did we realize though what lay in store for us in the next few minutes!

Next chapter, "The Reluctant Abductee Almost Gets Away!"
Stay tuned...

Zephryus · Post by **Zephryus** » Fri Apr 02, 2004 5:53 pm

Man, this is great! Keep it coming, Ring!

calsur · Post by **calsur** » Sat Apr 03, 2004 1:45 am

Before you do post again, Ring, I would like to see a post here from Zephryus admitting to some Youthful Indescretions. On the 3Playa he states he is 22. So any Youthful Indescretions should be fresh in his mind.

Youthful Indescretions

More Lessons Learned the Hard Way

More Stupid Stuff

I had a thick skull, so sue me...

Bravo!

Guns & Fun

Breaking and Entering

Comic Relief