Crazy but true stories from our school days

I bet that most of us have stories that seem just too bizarre to be believable. I have a few in mind but I'll start with this one and ask you to post your TRUE stories below.

While in the 12th grade, I had the same teacher for Chem II (2nd period) and Physics (4th period). About once every 6 weeks or so, we'd cut Physics because that was also the time when you got lunch, so the combined class and lunch was about an hour and 20 minutes which gave us enough time to go to a local pizza buffet. One day in the Spring, the teacher quietly asks us during Chemistry if we were going to cut his 4th period class. We sheepishly reply "not sure yet. why?" To which he responded that he needed someone to pick his car up because he had dropped it off for NEW TIRES! Needless to say we got pizza that day and someone got to drive a somewhat nicer vehicle than they were accustomed to :D

Don't ask me how or why we never got busted for cutting (I have another story where we DID get busted), but we never did that year.

School had a noticeboard, it had all sorts of dull notices up on it, including various decrees from the headmaster/principal - some behaviour or other he won't tolerate, what was acceptable to wear, notable success (or otherwise) of sports teams. Pretty boring stuff. The noticeboard was overlooked by the staff room. However... a buddy of mine had access to a low quality photocopier and a typewriter. So if you type a notice then with scissors and glue add the letterhead/crest and signature taken from a genuine one then photocopy it, you could make your own headmaster/principal's notices. I was able to unlock and swap notices with "corrected" ones, in plain sight. Couldn't be done too frequently, but I was never caught.

Oh boy do I have stories, some I will share some I won't. I had a lot of nuns for teachers it was a Catholic school and they used the strap and I think they had one with my name on it. Most of my strapping came from getting ratted out or caught fighting. For those who never seen a strap here it is.

[img]https://i.imgur.com/CgSKmTS.jpg?1[/img]

The strap wasn't used in this manner though it went up the hand, way worse because it involved the wrist.


In grade 4 we had a non nun teacher, bigger lady who was a real bitch, we called her Lard Ass, I would catch mice and put them in her desk drawer. When she opened that drawer she would shriek and run out of the classroom. She was petrified and hated to come into our class it got to the point where she wouldn't open the drawer any more spoiling the mouse fun. I also put them in her coat pockets and book bags, but the little fukers crawled out. During our slack time we would play marbles and another game with these wheel erasers, well we were pretty good at rolling those wheel erasers and soon found out that they had the same effect on her if you rolled them and it hit her foot, she assumed it was a mouse and freaked, the trick was not to get caught. I was going to roll one day and the kid behind me couldn't contain his chuckle and she looked up and busted me, I got 12 straps that day and got the blame for all the wheel incidents ending our bit of fun, but some good came out of it, Lard Ass laid off the homework assignments. I never got blamed for putting the mice in her drawers though and unless she reads this she probably still don't know it was me, probably just thinks they crawled in there:D



Another time a bird hit the window at recess I went out to rescue it and it was perfectly fine just a little confused, I looked at my buddy and said this is going into the nuns locker, so I put it in her locker. At the start of the class she would go to the locker and get whatever she need for that class. Well, when she opened that locker and the bird flew at her, it was priceless, she screamed and left. We were all just cracking up until she came back with the principle and the strap. Thinking they wouldn't strap all of us, we all just clammed up, deny deny deny, well we were wrong and they said one by one come up. At that point I said it was me, I was the only one involved and give me the straps. They obliged and from that day forward the locker was locked.

Girl cheated on bf with two black guys. She also recorded and sent it to him

[QUOTE=yokecel;1629529773]Girl cheated on bf with two black guys. She also recorded and sent it to him[/QUOTE]

That's pretty harsh brother....




Another good one I pulled off with great success was the warm wet cushion. Some of the teachers had black cushions on their chairs, if you poured warm water on them and the timing was right, they would sit down and not even notice it was wet, when they stood up they would have a soaked ass. It was best when you did it in another class in case the water cooled a bit and they noticed, the students in that class would be blamed, and if it worked which it did most times you could hear the class crack up when they noticed the teachers wet ass. Another fun one.

[QUOTE=mtpockets;1629531173]That's pretty harsh brother....




Another good one I pulled off with great success was the warm wet cushion. Some of the teachers had black cushions on their chairs, if you poured warm water on them and the timing was right, they would sit down and not even notice it was wet, when they stood up they would have a soaked ass. It was best when you did it in another class in case the water cooled a bit and they noticed, the students in that class would be blamed, and if it worked which it did most times you could hear the class crack up when they noticed the teachers wet ass. Another fun one.[/QUOTE]
haha! No doubt you assisted in putting some of your teachers into psychotherapy. Karma requires balance one way or another. Maybe something to think aboot. :D

[QUOTE=mtpockets;1629531173]It was best when you did it in another class in case the water cooled a bit and they noticed, the students in that class would be blamed.[/QUOTE]
That reminds me of a particularly deep sleeping student in the period before my 10th grade English class. After he fell asleep, the teacher, who loved to joke around, must have instructed the class in that period to exit quietly. We were greeted at the door to enter quietly. The student, surprisingly, sleeps through the bell that announces the beginning of the new period. Our teacher continues to teach in very hushed tones when at some point during our class the student finally wakes up IN THE WRONG CLASS.

In grade 12 we went on a Road Trip. We live in eastern ontario mind you. It was our version of Harold and Kumar go to the White Castle.

It was 1984. To us Rochester NY was an exotic fabled far off accross lake Ontario wonderland. We listened to the radio station "Magic 92", any rocker dude worth his salt had that blaring in his car radio. the commercials were cool: the bars: Penny Arcade, the Riverboat and others, one of our local TV channels was a Rocherster one, we were mesmerized by the "House of Guitars" commercials, as a budding musician at the time I felt the lure to travel there...but how? It was a least 4 hours one way by car...it was on the other side of freaking Lake Ontario. It could not be done in a one day hookey session, and it had to be kept top secret. It also involved forgery LOL.

Our chance came one weekday evening during the spring of that school year. My parents were out of town leaving my older sister, 3 years my senior to watch us, she was preoccupied with problems with her boyfriend. Myself and 3 friends hatched a plan. I told my sister I had to be at school super early the next day to do a soudcheck for an assembly, my friends a few blocks away were driving to school early and I would miss her in the morning. So at 10pm that evening I slipped out the window of my room and booked it the couple of blocks to my buddies place, we all piled in his POS 1972 Dodge Swinger, it was rusty missing wheel covers, had a broken leaf, no seat belts in the back. It was powered by a super strong slant 6! and could do 60 going down hill on a good day, and was loaded down with provisions for the mission: a 24 case of "Canadian" (we call it a "2-4"), and a few bags of chips. We also made fake IDs for the bars, we took our student IDs which was the private "College" we went to and typed our DOB appropriatedly...I forget the drinking age in NY state back then, we made sure we were of age. We were posing as College kids.

We hit the 401 highway and hauled as* to the Interstate 81 bridge near Kingston ON. The beer had to be stashed before we crossed the border, an hour into the trip there was still about half a dozen left...the boys were pacing. I distinctly remember lifting up the back seat while the car was in motion and placing all the remaining bottles up in the spings, dropping the seat back down, opening the window and throwing the empty case and bottles out.....it was not 20 seconds later, cherries in the rearview mirror....we were getting busted...cop pulls us over. shines the light in Sandy's..(who was driving)...face..."son, your license plate light is out...make sure it get fixed before before I run into you again" no questions of what a bunch of 17 and 18 yos were doing an hour away from home at 11 on a week night. He sent us on our way. OMG what a stroke of luck. We were just stunned, how could he not smell the beer on our breaths, we figured he was at the end of his shift, he had to be.

Anyway off we go, 15 minutes later we rolled right up to the border crossing, not even thinking that we could get into to trouble. It had to be liquid courage. We were the only car in the queue, I guess we did not have time to think. The guy leans out the window glares at us and asks where we were going. SO we told him quite matter of fact. I can still hear his voice, " do you have any beer wine or whisky in your car?"...of course no was the answer. He looked at us even more sternly and repeated his question, again the answer was none. So he pointed at a garage area by the office...."pull your car over there, get out stand beside the car and wait for instructions". Things were starting to sink in by that time, its amazing how quickly your buzz starts to wear off, we are phuked, I recall pleading in my head for Jeff to not have any "herbs" on him. After what seemed an eternity another border officer walked out and told us to empty all of our pockets and show him what we had....thankfully just wallets with cash, smokes and ID. He proceeds to start shaking our car down, he knew all the compartments, except the seat with the beer, the guy lifted the seat up and looks DOWN and under, over his head there was the neatly stacked rows of beer held in by the springs, I will never forget that vision. Certainly we were underage by NY standards, this guy was either tired at the end of shift, and did not want to be delayed by our incarceration, or had a fine sense of humor. At any rate he sent us on our way! I still think today the the sh*t storm this could have caused if we got busted. I would have been grounded until just a few years ago, it would have set international relations back decades.

The rest of the trip went according to the plan, we re-supplied with Bud from the nearest corner store, the 90 year old man needed his money so he did not card us, back then were a pretty rough looking bunch...well at least my friends were, poor guy probably thought we were going to rob him. We had to drink harder with that American beer :D tho. Eventually we could not drive any more and we pulled the car into what we thought was a pull off area on this two lane black top highway , it turned out to be the front yard of a double wide, I can still see the family standing on the front porch at 8 in the morning staring at us, they started to come down the steps towards us, we punched it, gravel spraying. Jeez. The most notable thing about Rochester I remember was nearly getting attacked by a van load of what I think were Puerto Ricans when we took exception to them cutting us off in MacDonald's parking lot, they were screaming at us piling out of the van...like 8 of them....we darted. that was almost as intense as getting attacked by skinheads at a Punk Bar in Toronto (That's another story)

The "House of Guitars" lived up to its name, we were there I think 3 hours, we blew our cash at the record store part, and bought other souvenirs to prove we did it. It was epic. Even the "Penny Arcade" took our cheesy IDs.

We returned to school the next day, and it was not long before our tale was all over school, I can imagine how Christopher Columbus must have felt when he returned home from the new world. Today I still quiver a bit at the potential consequences of our actions had we been pulled over upstate by a cop, or got busted at the border. It could have been real ugly. But it wasn't.

When I was in Jr. High I used sell to sell gum for $.25 a peice. My Mom worked at a department store and I got it for 20% off, I was making around $20/a day profit, when you're 12 that's some pretty decent bank. I had Bubble Yum, Bubblicious and others in all the flavors, even branched out into candy bars. I was a small kid and big kids would demand free gum so I got a bodyguard, a strong Native American kid that I gave free gum and a dollar a day. I'll never forget the day he punched a guy trying to shake me down square in the nose in the bathroom.

As you can guess the administration caught on and said I had to stop because kids were using their lunch money to buy my gum, this was total BS, I only sold to kids who could afford it. If a kid was poor or whatever I would just give them a piece, I would never take anyone's lunch/milk money for gum.

First I got a warning, then I got spanked 3 times before they shut me down. Yes, back in my day they would spank you in school, complete with the principal feeling up your ass to "make sure you don't have anything in your back pockets that could hurt you."

This one time at band camp................................

Either Ya'll are not telling your real stories or ya'll had some boring ass high schol years.

CPW, great story. We made fake IDs too with a polaroid camera and the plastic from a milk jug, and they worked about 9 times out of 10.

Bando, LOL. The movie My Bodyguard is an example of art imitating life ;)

Here's two more true stories: both involving buses. In the eight grade, I was bus'ed to an inner city school while many of the inner city students were bus'ed to the suburbs. The trip around the burbs and then the 25 minute trek into the city resulted in a lot of time on the bus. Our bus driver was a long haired 28 year old named Marty (this would have been the 79-80 schoolyear). If we were making good time, we'd cruise around Louisville for a few minutes before he'd drop us off. He also liked to see just how fast he could go over some of the railroad tracks until a neighbor reported him. But the most WTH moments were when he'd smoke a joint AND would let the (pot) smokers smoke too. Unbelievable but 100% true. Marty and a bus full of 6th, 7th, and 8th graders driving around town with 2-3 joints burning :eek:

That same year, 8th grade, we had a field trip to Cincinnati to go to King's Island. There were two buses: a school bus and a Greyhound type bus. On the way home, the school bus broke down. The teachers/chaperones didn't want to wait on a replacement bus (which I'm sure would have caused a two hour delay or so . . . and of course, this was before cell phones), so we all crammed into the Greyhound, but with their bucket seats (not bench seats like the school bus), space was very limited. The teachers took volunteers for anyone who would agree to ride home in the luggage well :eek: I elected to go as it seemed like an adventure, and there must have been some kind of light, or else I would have remembered total darkness (which I don't). The bus stopped a couple of miles from school where we were to meet our parents, and they wisely got us out of the luggage well where we rode the last bit standing in the isles (although I seem to recall a few of the smaller students stretched out in the luggage shelves over the seats). If the bus had been t-boned in the luggage compartment, it would have certainly made national news.

When we reached grade 7 we had a hangout that was small but it was open every friday night until midnight, it had 1 pinball machine a juke box and a couple of vending machines, on this particular night I was moving pretty good on this young lady and asked her if she wanted to go for a walk, wich really meant do you want to make out.

So we ended up behind the church and all was going great until it started to rain, We tried to get in the church but that was locked, tried the school bus couldn't get in that either for some reason. The last option was the parish truck, that was locked but it had a box on it with a staked tail gate, we hopped over, sparked up another joint and then began to get busy, that was cut short when we heard footsteps in the gravel that got louder, I thought it was one of the boys coming to scare the sh!t out of us, the foot steps stopped at the truck and then we heard the door open, who ever it was get in and the truck start up. It would have been a perfect time to jump out except she didn't have her top on and my pants were around my damn ankles and it was so dark that you couldn't see your hand in front of your face.

We were feeling around for clothes and then he took off and he wasn't sparing the horses, it wasn't a smooth ride over those dirt roads, we were flopping around back there like a couple of fish outta water trying to get dressed. After what seemed like hours he stopped and got out right away, he then came back to the rear of the truck and removed the staked gate. (We were sh!ting bricks by this time) he laid the gate up alongside of the truck and then walked away and we made our escape.

Luckily I knew exactly where we were and it was only about 5 miles from where we had left. We had to run most of the way back to get there before the bus left at midnight, we made it with a few minutes to spare. After that on friday just before school shut down I would crack an outside window in the cloak room and used that to get into the school for date nights. I met that girl 20 years later, the first thing she said to me was "My ass still hurts" Fun Times.

When I was 13 I was crazy for this girl name Evelyn Martinez, she was so cute but she never ever noticed me and she had every reason not to. I had long hair, bucktooth and thick glasses and a geek to be honest as I was pretty much the smartest kid in my class. I was also the "bum" of the class because my family was extremely poor and well there were 17 of us..

Anyway, I wanted to get her attention so I started a rumor that I had a fight with this gang member Cocuilio (he was 17 with the UTB boys, I didn't know him but heard about him) and I never thought it would have gotten to his ears. However what I did not know was that his nephew, Angel Guzman was in our class and his other nephew Joey Guzman was in my brother Nelson class, so it got to his ears.

Walking home from school with my brother Nelson and some of his friends, Cocuillo approached us with with several of his boys and his nephew Joey and said to me, "why the fck are you saying you had a fight with me", because I was only 13 they didn't do anything to me but they beat my brother Nelson up who was 15, Joeys age and threw him inside a garbage can and lit it on fire, Nelson jumped out on time and didn't really get burned. One of Nelsons friend I forget his name now, tried to help Nelson and they broke his arm.

Cocuillo told me he was going to get his younger nephew and his friends to get me, everyday after the thought of walking to and from school was a nightmare so I started missing school and sh!t just went downhill from there.

One of my teachers in high school had a pet, he was a couple of grades ahead of me but we both played hockey on the high school team and there was always a rivalry between us. Anyway after school you would see this teacher and his pet driving around in the teachers car,(it was sickening, the preferential treatment this kid got.) I swore they were gay, but it wasn't called gay back then, so I called the kid out in front of everyone calling him a queer, he lost it and came at me and I laid a beating on him right there in the school hallway. Sh!t hit the fan and I got suspended but the pet got nothing. But I was ok with that because the kid got his ass handed to him, but I wasn't sure how to get the teacher.

During my week off the teacher purchased a new 1971 or 72 340 Plymouth Duster. Fine looking vehicle. I wanted a way to get back at these bastards but didn't want to damage anything too bad, so I popped the hood and threw a couple of fish on his engine. That worked like a charm once those fish started to bake it really stunk up the vehicle. Other kids told me they could smell it just walking by it. I wanted the fuker to know it was me but not prove it.

So my first day back after suspension the teacher starts doing his thing and I say anyone else smell fish? The teacher turned beet red, pretty sure he knew it was me before I said that but it was confirmed now and nothing he could do about it. Neither of them, the teacher or the pet never fuked with me again.

Some of these have me cracking up! Thanks for sharing.

I graduated in 1995, so bringing my pocket knife to school just seemed normal.

Something else that seemed normal was having my shotgun behind the seat of my truck with a box of shells out in broad daylight in the school parking lot. Look, I didn't have time to go home and get these things after school ended. I had squirrel and rabbits to shoot.

One of my funniest stories are of the phycological sit-up...

It was my freshman year. It was baseball season. All the players just made it in the fieldhouse after practice. The upperclassmen were talking about how many sit-ups they could do. Another freshman on my team was a "topper". A topper is someone who always has a story to top your story. Well freshman topper blurts out to the upperclassmen that he does 100 sit-up's everyday...easily.

One of the seniors says, I bet you can't do a single sit-up if we say you can't. It's called a phycological sit-up and you don't have the toughness.

Freshman topper replies to the effect of bring it on.

The upperclassmen decide to give him a week to train as hard as he can and next week they'll let him try.

Next week comes around and topper is ready to do this phycological sit-up. Upperclassmen say, "Ok, after practice."

After practice we're all tired, hot, sweaty and ready for showers, but we're not missing this. Everyone gathers around and topper is laid on a changing bench. A towel is placed over his face. It's explained to topper that the seniors are going to circle around him and start saying, "You can't do it. You can't do it.". Then at the count of 3, topper can try. "Oh, I'll do it" topper replies.

So the chant of you can't do it begins. Then the countdown. As the countdown begins the varsity catcher drops his pants. stands straddle over topper. 3,2,1...GO

The towel is pulled off topper and he begins the sit-up only to meet...yuck...

He had his eyes closed and actually tried again!!!

We'll just call topper, brown nose for now on.

I attended a military college. A frozen hellhole in the middle of Vermont.

Cadets are some of the most phukked up and demented people you will ever meet. To think that they join the military officers corps after graduation should scare most civilians. They are patriots and they love America with all their heart, but most are clinically insane nonetheless. I suppose that's why they choose the path.

At any rate, we had many unofficial and unapproved traditions - more like habits, really, that date back decades.

One was called UP 500. UP stands for Upper Parade Ground. 500 implies NASCAR.

Every year, usually in early November. After the first snow fall, the underclassmen going through the fourth class indoctrination phase known as rookdom, would strip down butt naked and sprint around the Upper Parade as upperclassmen pelted them with snowballs. Imagine sprinting in combat boots designed for warm weather while butt naked with your dingaling dangling in the dirt as hundreds of fired up upperclassmen hitting your nutsack with snowballz the size of baseball as you slip and slide, trying to survive. To put things into better perspective, one roundtrip around the UP is 1/4 mile. It usually happens around midnight, when the commandants and faculty members are not present on campus.

I have many more stories that would make you go "you attended that place ?!?" Norwich takes pride in being the only military college in America where the Corps of Cadets "run the Corps." (Other academies usually have commissioned officers known as 'tac officers' overseeing - more like micromanaging - the corps.)

Yeah. I miss that place.

I "learned" to cut 4th period in my sophomore year when I took Algebra II with Juniors and Seniors. We had a substitute teacher from South America who, rightfully, thought (but insisted on verbalizing) how lucky we were in America to get a quality and free education. He went on ad nauseum about this, so the next day not only did the usual 5-6 of us cut class and go to the pizza buffet, ALL BUT TWO students cut. That's something that just couldn't be overlooked, and we got "licks" (two swats with the wooden paddle) the next day. This would have been the 81-82 schoolyear and #^!* that hurt!

I was always known as that crazy bastard that would do pretty much anything for a laugh. The boys were well aware of this and would dare me to do many things, this time it was to streak the Bingo hall, this was back when streaking was just making the scene. I was willing to do it but I got them put up a case of beer as my reward. (would have done it just on the dare suckers)

So the big night came, we had it all planned out, I would peel down, the boys would open the door and off I go, up the left side, across the top between the caller and the player and back down the right side and out. Simple enough. The time came, I put on my balaclava stripped, the door opened and boom, I hit the floor running, it was textbook, as I was headed down the home stretch I noticed the door was closed. WTF, those bastards were holding the door closed (thank god they didn't lock it)

I don't know if it was fear, adrenaline, brute strength, or the thought of a 100 or more grannies looking at my twig and berries and lilly white ass but something gave me super human strength and I knocked them arseholes on the floor when I pushed on that door, I didn't miss a beat, I grabbed my clothes and beat feet until I was a half mile away from the hall.

I noticed the boys were grinning pretty big when I was getting ready but figured they were just caught up in the moment, but they had planned to hold the door from the beginning, the bastards got me good. The grannies did laugh and clap though. All in all a good night.

It was tradition that we all went next door to my grandmothers for Sunday dinner, so 10 of us are sitting at the table and granny starts telling the story about the streaker at the bingo in the community next to ours. Jaws were hitting the table in shock, I was trying so hard not to bust a nut laughing and give anything away. Awkward moment for sure lol

When I was in middle school (IS 183) the principal there was a tall, at least 6'8", black dude name Mr. Crawford, he was very intimidating to the kids at school, but at this point in my life I was into the streets and never backed down from him and he hated that. I was cutting more than attending school and he called in my parents and they threaten to lock my father up (scared tactic I assume?) if I continued to cut class.

At this point my father had to drive me to school every morning to make sure I attended and I would wait for my father to drop me off and leave and then cut out through any exit I could find, usually the back gates where they lead to the teachers parking lot. I knew that schools exits inside and out. A good friend of mine (who I actually took some pics recently with and posted them on here name Angel) saw me leaving the school through his classroom window. He told me later that day that Crawford also saw me, I was like Fck!! I knew they were going to call my father back in and they did.

My father never EVER hit me as a kid and the next morning when I was coming down the stairs to meet him by the car so he could drive me to school as I normally did, he was at the bottom of the stairs in the projects waiting for me and when I got down to the last step he slapped the sh!t out of me. I was shocked because my dad never hit me before and he marked my face. Pissed as I was going into the school when I got there Mr. Crawford saw the hand and finger marks in my face and gave me the worst fcking grind you can ever imagine.

I still cut class that day but I went and got 3 of my friends who were older and did not attend IS 183, we waited for Mr Crawford to come out of the school and we beat his ass so badly that he was rushed to the hospital. For the remaining of the school year he never even looked in my direction and the following year Mr. Crawford resigned as the Principal of the school.

I was a freshman or sophomore I think, and we were all in the gym for an end of year ceremony.

The seniors wanted to play a prank by releasing some birds into the gym.

I’m not sure where they got them they were the little ones you see in pet stores, they had them in a box inside a duffel bag.

In the middle of the ceremony, some dude ran in and shouted “Be Free” or something like that, then launched the bag in front of the bleachers, the box busted open and two or so dead birds come flopping out on the ground in front of everyone. And the ones that weren’t dead were to shaken up to leave the box.

Needless to say there was a bunch of kids flipping out. Especially since they had the middle school kids sitting down near the bottom of the bleachers.

[QUOTE=MoJoJoJo1977;1629635473]Some of these have me cracking up! Thanks for sharing.

I graduated in 1995, so bringing my pocket knife to school just seemed normal.

Something else that seemed normal was having my shotgun behind the seat of my truck with a box of shells out in broad daylight in the school parking lot. Look, I didn't have time to go home and get these things after school ended. I had squirrel and rabbits to shoot.
[/QUOTE]

I used to bring my BB Gun rifle wrapped in a trashbag to school on Fridays and keep it in my locker. I would take my normal bus to school and ride my Buddy's bus to his house in the country after school where we would shoot all weekend.

One day my bus driver asked me what was in the bag and I explained, he just took the gun and handed it off to the driver of the bus I would be taking after school. Simple common sense among adults was a lot more prevalent back then I guess.


[QUOTE=Ck4288;1629697203]I was a freshman or sophomore I think, and we were all in the gym for an end of year ceremony.

The seniors wanted to play a prank by releasing some birds into the gym.

I’m not sure where they got them they were the little ones you see in pet stores, they had them in a box inside a duffel bag.

In the middle of the ceremony, some dude ran in and shouted “Be Free” or something like that, then launched the bag in front of the bleachers, the box busted open and two or so dead birds come flopping out on the ground in front of everyone. And the ones that weren’t dead were to shaken up to leave the box.

Needless to say there was a bunch of kids flipping out. Especially since they had the middle school kids sitting down near the bottom of the bleachers.[/QUOTE]

I feel terrible about laughing at this, but it's hilarious!

I really have felt guilty about some of the things I did in high school. But after reading these I feel somewhat better. :).

Especially after reading Mr. Pockets stuff. Holy shiit. Calling Dr.. Phil. :D

[QUOTE=Mark1T;1629703663]I really have felt guilty about some of the things I did in high school. [/QUOTE]

Not me. I was never in a position to actually affect someone on a long term basis.

My wife and kids always get grossed out about this one, we used to have gang showers in the locker room and we would all shower together after games/practice. So you walk up to a guy and say "hey #22 that was a nice shot on goal in the 3rd period, I don't know why it didn't get in." As he's replying you pretend to wash your hair but piss on his leg. In a shower it takes a minute to realize your leg is getting pissed on.

The beauty of this is that if you're expecting it, you have to look down at the guy's dick which is almost worse than getting pissed on.

Bandito, you got me beat. :)

[QUOTE=Mark1T;1629703663]

Especially after reading Mr. Pockets stuff. Holy shiit. Calling Dr.. Phil. :D[/QUOTE]


Ha Ha Mark, I think we all could use a shrink in our lives. Make mine a hot blonde.




Keep those stories coming folks.....

[QUOTE=mtpockets;1629727863]Ha Ha Mark, I think we all could use a shrink in our lives. ...[/QUOTE]

True words.

One I still laugh at to this day

We had one of those emergency meetings for shooters and the whole school went to the cafeteria, someone thought it was a funny idea to grab a handful of mustard and ketchup packs and open them up and throw at people


I remember I nocked a handful of packets out of someone’s hand and start stomping on them making them squirt everywhere. I continued to do it for each packet and literally I saw nobody effected


Fast forward we all go back to class and about 5 minutes later a full grown adult teacher comes screaming in in tears who looked like someone got a big jar of mustard and ketchup and dumped it all over her and wiped it all over her clothes and she just happened to be luckily wearing a somewhat white dress lmao , I instantly know she knew it was me as she was coming straight for me, the two teachers behind her had to physically hold her back

I got in school suspension for it for two days but I’ll never forget the face on her, she was so fukn irate in tears covered in ketchup and mustard all over lollll

Had front row seats to a fight between (fraternal) twins on the landing of a stairwell. Happened in between periods. Was a legit fight too. One of them was a lot bigger and he pummeled his brother pretty good but took some pretty good punches himself. Rumor was the fight was over...

[spoiler]a sloot[/spoiler]

Despite being a tiny school ours had a rink attached, wasn't artificial ice but it was covered, one day a couple of our grades were out skating for our rec period. Somehow I tripped and went down and someone skated over my right hand cutting all the veins and tendons, opening it up wide and we had a gusher. I went out to the priest who was monitoring us and showed him, he gave me a tissue and said I better go home. I lived a half mile away, knowing the cut was bad, I didn't even try to change into my boots and hobbled home in my skates as fast as I could.

When I got home my folks were floored by the size of the cut and amount of blood and off we went to begin the 10 mile trip to the hospital, by the time we got there I was going in and out from blood loss. The first thing they did was give me blood and afterwards told my parents that I was very lucky to be alive and probably only had minutes left. They were hesitant to put me out because I had a stomach full of junk, soda, chips, bars and said it would be best if that was pumped out first. No time for that so I would have to remain awake. It took almost four hours to reattach everything and close me up. I was awake the entire time and could watch him as he worked. I only looked once, that was enough for me. ha ha. The doctor and staff did an awesome job.

I was put in a cast with my hand upright to a 90 degree angle from the forearm to stop all movement and the prognosis wasn't good, at best limited mobility. It was suggested I start learning to use my left hand for everything including writing. I started that and got fairly good at it all, except for throwing things, I sucked at that. A few months passed and they removed the cast and I started therapy, after weeks nothing, the hand wasn't responding.

At one appointment, the therapist and doctor asked me to leave to chat with my parents, I knew I had to hear this, I listened through the door and heard them say amputation. I was devastated and defiant. That was not happening as far as I was concerned. I still sucked at throwing with my left hand and asked my parents for an Indian rubber ball so I could throw against the shed and it would bounce back to me.

I got one and I did this all day for days, I got a little better but not much. One day I got a bad bounce and I slapped at it with my gimpy hand and it hit my palm. That felt weird but in a good way. So I tried it again and again, eventually my palm started to close just a tiny bit. I had some movement in my hand. I spent all day at that which turned into weeks and months, eventually I could close my hand completely and as time went on I could even throw and catch with it and it wasn't long before I had good use of it.

Back to the therapist and doctors who claimed it was a miracle. They wanted to start therapy again. I wasn't having it and told them, you gave up on me, wanted to cut my hand off and give me a hook and now you claim it was a miracle, It was me that did this over months of throwing and catching black rubber ball and it was no miracle, I never went to therapy.

A year after my accident I was playing hockey again and made the all star team, I also moved up a belt in Karate and could play baseball and fish again in the spring. Life was good and I was one happy 8 year old.

The scar remains very prominent even to this day almost 55 years later.

[spoiler][img]https://i.imgur.com/ujcQHL7.jpg?3[/img][/spoiler]


I am glad it did because when life got hard the scar reminded me that anything is possible if you believe in it and work hard enough, it also taught me to live life to it's fullest, having a little crazy in your life is ok too, take chances, live on the edge and enjoy the ride because life as you know it can change or end at any moment.


No one ever owned up to being the one who cut my hand, perhaps they didn't even know. If they did know, I wish they had told me so I could assure them it was ok. Accidents aren't planned that's why they are called accidents and I have no hard feelings. Most of all, I hope it didn't cause them any grief seeing me in a cast and struggling to get my hand back. I did speak to both classes involved and mentioned this but not until some time after the accident.


My class mates in fact the entire school was great and helped me a lot. From tying my boots, helping me dress and making sure I didn't miss any information by bringing me notes, helping me study etc.. It all paid off because despite missing a lot of time I passed that grade and moved on with them. I don't think I could have achieved that without their help and encouragement.