Unusual Life Story, Worth the Read (Cereal)

[NotBigEnough206]

I will share my story with the Misc.

I will try to be as accurate as I can.

There will be pain, agony, tears, joy, blood, murder, dead bodies, war, hunger, starvation, fights and more in my life.

I am not looking for sympathy or praise, I am working night shift lately and I will keep you entertained if you care to read.

[Getter_done]

worth the read? wut read? u didnt post any story, fail thread

[badassbruz]

apparently OP is a *******.

[jailblazer]

Ok I'm listening

Dis could be gud

[BetaBert]

That story was hilarious! I especially liked the part where you put your dog on roller skates.
Thanks for sharing OP.

[k1llsh0t]

cliffs

[cawkman]

I like the part op call himself a *******.

[NotBigEnough206]

I was born in a small town in Bosnia in July 1981 to my father and mother. I lived a normal life in a small town. My parents worked nearby and took care of me and my siblings. We had a nice house, roof our head, a nice car and went out as much as we could.

Living in a small town meant that I knew everyone there and they all knew who I was and who my parents were.

I did not watch much tv since we had about 2 or 3 chanels and they hardly ever showed anything for the kids. They would show tom and jerry once a night for about 10 minutes or so around 7pm.

Instead I spent a lot of time playing with my 2 dogs and friends and neighbors.

My neighbor who was about 3 years older would always find a reason to beat me up, whether when we played soccer and I scored he would find a reason to beat me up.

I spent a lot of time going over to my grandfathers house and listening to him tell me about WW2, the Germans, Partisans, Chetniks, Ustase and how he survived through the war as a child.

I was always intrigued by his stories and even the story he told me over and over about the American Bomber that crash landed in the big field about half a kilometer from my home in 1944.

Little did I know that in 1992 I would live a life of war and go what my grandfather went through.

I stared going to first grade in 1988 when I was about 7 years old or so. I remember the first day of school and my mother spilling water after me on the front porch for good luck or I guess to be a good student.

I was always a good student, got good grades and never studied hard. The teacher used to beat us when we did not memorize songs or chapters from books.

[Zuggie]

This story sounds oddly familiar, go on

[Heracles26]

subscribed

[CH4N8]

in b4 bel air

[Brozart]

I was born in a small town in Bosnia in July 1981 to my father and mother.

[NotBigEnough206]

I remember one time I was running around the teachers car, it was a Zastava, mind you a brand new one. Today when we look at the Zastava its utter trash, but back in 1988 in former Yugoslavia, that was a great car.

I was 1st grade and was running around with a friend, playing tag, when I slammed in to the mirror of the car and it broke off. I hit it with my head. The other kids ran immediaetly to the teacher and told on us. He came out, picked me up by my ears, put me down and slapped me across my face. His face was all red and he was very mad, slapped my friend too acros the forehead and he fell on his ass.

He never told my parents or anyone, next day his car was fixed. I always feared that man, I feared him more than god or my parents. My mom used to come to the meetings with the teacher and tell him, please sir, if he is no good, not a good student, does not get all As beat him.

One day I was leaving for school in the morning and I had a small cat. Before I walked out the door I saw that he had a little mouse in his mouth, I figured good cat. But then I saw the little rats tail move, I walked over to the cat, took the little rat and put it in my pocket.

I brought the rat with me to school. Showed it to the girls, they all screamed and ran, again, they told the teacher.

We got in to class, I was ready and knew I was in trouble. As he walked in, we all stood up as usual, silence, like little soldiers, he said good morning, sit down now. We all sat down.

He looks up and says, where is the mouse hunter. No one says anything, he points at me, says come here. I walke up to him, he slaps once, then twice across the face. Then he says, where is the mouse? I said, I let him go over by the pond. He asks did you kill him. I say no I let him go. He says good boy, go sit down.

I remember to this day the girl that told on me. It was this little teachers pet, I dont remember her name, but she was a year younger and was very pretty and popular. I hated that girl.

During recess, even in first grade we would have fights, just the boys, fight to see who is strongest. The two teachers and the janitor of the school would go outside, sit on the bench, pick out their favorite boys and made us fight. Most fights I won, I think I won almost all of them in my class. We would fight until one started crying or bleeding, or the teacher said stop. Most recess days were spent playing soccer outside on the gravel, or fighting amongst each other. Some days even when the teachers and janitor were not outside we would fight just to fight. It was in our blood now. There was one kid, about a year younger than me, but bigger and stronger. I had to rely on technique to beat him. I beat him as many times as he beat me. His name was Denis.

His mother killed her husband, their father with an ax. He was abusive, had 9 children, would drink, come home and beat her every night and the kids. He would throw her out the second story window with the kids sometimes. One night she decided to kill him, took an ax and hit him while he was passed out from alcohol. She hit him with the blunt part of the ax on the head, he jumped up, grabbed her by the throat and started choking her. Her older son, grabbed the ax, used the sharp end and hit him on the back of the head.

They dragged the body down the road about a quarter mile after midnight so no one could see. Tried to make it look like a robbery. Inspector said, this man was killed at home, the dog, the dead guys dog was there and buried the dead guys head with his paws with dirt. This means the dog followed the body from the house. Denises mom was found guilty and sent to jail. She spent a few months there and came back, the state did not want to feed 9 children.

[ameribrah]

Oh chit OP you still in dat east europe ?

[NotBigEnough206]

My uncle had a nice dog, a poodle I would say, very playful and very viscous too. It would hunt rats in the house. I remember sleeping one night on the couch in the living room and felt something crawling on me. Then I opened my eyes, looked on the top of the couch, in the moonlight through the window I saw the rat. It was huge, just walking across the couch, I dont remember what happened next, I think I went back to sleep, but that is an image that is in my head to this day. My uncle would bring that poodle to the house, the poodle would find the rats and catch them, just like a cat.

There was a river close to my house, about half a mile away, a nice clean beautiful river, during the summer we would go there and swim and play in the water all the time. The poodle was funny as when dipped in water, and taken out, it was not able to see from all the hair, so even when out of the water in my uncles hands, it was still paddling with its feet in the air, that to me was the funniest ever.

My father taught me how to swim in the river. He worked out of the country and I was about 9 when he came one summer and asked did you learn how to swim yet. I sad no, but I can dive where I want to go. He picked me up and threw me off the ledge, the drop was about 12 feet or so, the depth was about 10 feet. I dove back to the shallow end and got out. My father said ok, but you have to learn to swim. I think that summer I learned how to swim.

One summer day a neighbor from the upper part of the town was walking with his friends by my unlces house, he was about 15 or so and his friends. I think I was 10 or so. He also had a similar dog to my uncles. The friends said, lets see the dogs fight. They told me, let the poodle out and lets see the dogs fight. The owner of the dog said no, dont do it, but his friends kept saying do it. I did, my uncles dog jumped on the other dog, and mauled it, the other dog ran, my uncles dog ran after him, caught him and mauled him some more.

Blood was everywhere. I did not think much of it until next week as Im walking home from school, the boys pointed to me, and out of the bush this 15 year old boy came out with gloves on. He ran up to me, punched me in the face and down I went, I tried to turn around, cover up and get up, but before I got up he kicked me in the head, then I went in to fetal position and covered my face while he kicked me, spit on me and cursed me, his friends joined in.

After a few minutes I got up, dusted myself off and went home, but made a mental note that when I grow up I am going to kill him.

[brake]

there isnt even any nunchuks in your story

http://forum.bodybuilding.com/showthread.php?t=5416023&

[NotBigEnough206]

Between 88 and 92 I went to school, started smoking with my friends, found weed leaves and chewed on them, went to the river swam in the summers, played soccer, got in to fights with friends. Got picked on by my older neighbor and beat all time. During the holidays we would steal a case of beer and drink it, mid day, then the heat would hit us and we would end up throwing up. Imagine seeing a couple 10 year olds, sitting on the curb with a case of beer next to them, throwing up, that was me and my cousin. In America you would never see that, but to us that was life, no care, no one cared.

One day my dog, I had a big dog that was about the size of an American Mutt, the neighbor had a small dog, looked like a terrier, always barked and everyone and was a ****ty little dog, just like my neighbor. His dog used to always chase my big dog and bite on him. The neighbor always made fun of me and my dog. One day his little dog, chased my dog in to my dogs dog house. Then you heard one yelp, and my dog walking out with the little dog in his jaws with blood coming from the little dog,

Killed the neighbors dog, and I knew I had it coming this time. My father was a welder and there was always metal in the garage. I put a metal pipe in my backpack as I knew that jerk would come beat me up for my dog killing his dog. I put the pipe so one end is sticking out of my backpack and put the backpack on my back. As I was getting near the house, he is walking down the street with his friends smiling and hitting his fist in to his other arm. About 2 feet in front of me as he stuck his hands out to get me, I did the heman pulling out sword from the back, and hit him across the forehead, blood started coming down his face, and he fell backwards as his eyes rolled up in his head.

I ran home which was about a block away with the bloody pipe. His father came to talk to my father, my father said your prick son always beat my son, and I never said anything because they are children, and we are neighbors. And now you come to me, leave now or you will be bleeding worse then your son.

That was the end of that, that kid never touched me again.

[snp1686]

Ok.

[milkman04]

can we get some cliffs? (Srs)

[Synthetis]

is that it op? fuarkk i want more. come to the point mon.

[NotBigEnough206]

I will update more as I have time and can remember events.

I used to spend a lot of time with my grandfather, he would tell me stories how hard life was during WW2 and years after. His father was killed in WW2, possibly by the Serbs or the Germans. He was not sure, but he was born in 1932 and he remembered the war and all the ethnic and religions war that engulfed the country due to the Nazi invasion. When the Nazis invaded, the Croats, Serbs and Bosnians went at each others throats.

There was a woman, a Serb woman living not too far from my home. She would walk by my grandfathers house, and he would tell me, look at her, I remember to this day, when her and her mother strung up Fadils father up against the tree, and cut his throat. They killed him, and look at her walking around now, she is almost dead. She would walk through my parents garden and I would throw rocks at her, but she would say things like you little Turk, I will kill you. I did not know why she would call me a Turk. But later I learned in school about the Ottoman Turks and their conquest of Bosnia and Serbia, and how the Serbs were treated. That is why she called me a Turk MotherEfer.

My grandfather used to tell me, never trust a Serb, never trust a Serb. They killed my cousin after the war. My cousin was a great man, a huge man, his shoulders were massive, his hands and chest. He could easily carry two men on his shoulders. It took two serbs with axes to kill him. And these Serbs were his friends, they got him drunk, caught him at night and hit him in the back as he was going home. They killed him, this was my grandfathers uncle. This guy intrigued me, because he was so big and muscular. I later asked my father. And my father confirmed that this guy was a very big msucular and strong man. But the reason the Serb killed him, is because he was sleeping with the Serbs wife. Ax to the back of the head. The Serb served 9 years.

The stories of killing and reveng were everywhere. My uncles brother in law killed a Serb on a bus. Serb said something wrong to him, this guy was sitting behind him, took out a blade and slit his throat. This man served some time too, about 9 years or so. I remember when he came back and first time I saw him. I was terrified of this killer, He was bald, had earings, and tattoos all over. Looked like a bull to me. I grew up listening to war stories, and people being killed.

By this time in 1992 the former Yugoslavia was breaking up. Slovenia got independence after a small war, Croatia had a war and got its independence, we sat in Bosnia and watched on TV as the war in Croatia began and the Serbs slaughtered the people of Vukovar. In Bosnia talk of independence was already brewing, but Bosnia consisted of all three ethnicities, Bosnian Muslims, Serbs and Croats, or Muslims, Christians and Catholics. Everyone knew this was going to get bloody.

People started selling their livestock to buy weapons. First time I saw an AK47 my dad brought one home, then there were more and more, Snipers rifles, RPGs, hadnguns, bombs, AKs and all kinds of stuff.

I used to go across Serb checkpoints with my dad to bring in weapons, while our people were getting killed, slaughtered civilians, me and my father were bringing in weapons to protect ourselves, it was all in vain though. The Serbs had an arsenal of weapons that at one time was the forth strongest nation in Europe. The Bosnian people had nothing. Serbs systematically started cleaning out towns, killing, raping, pilaging and removing the Catholics and Muslims.

Again all sides did this, Serbs did the majority, no Serb hate here, just those that killed the innocent, from any side.

[NotBigEnough206]

is that it op? fuarkk i want more. come to the point mon.

no point brah, long story, read if you want.

[Maasu]

rep'd and in.

[NotBigEnough206]

The city center, police station, radio and everything was taken by the Serb Army. On radio we would hear how the Muslims killed Serbs, and the Catholics killed Serbs. We were surrounded by Serb army and paramilitary units called the Chetniks. These guys came in to take care of the civilians once the army left. These were the really bad guys. Rape and massacre was their specialty, its what they enjoyed doing.

My mothers village was about 5 miles away from the town where we lived now. Her family lived in that small town. We thought if we went up there and lived there since there was no Serbs nearby we would be safe. During 92 I did not spend much time playing with friends, as many already fled with their families. My father and mother could not leave as their job which was now Serb occupied and Serb controled could not let them go. The Serbs said we can not leave. I spent a lot of time listening to the radio, walking around with my 2 dogs. Watching our one cow that we had, I would take the cow to graze in the fields for almost all day long.

I almost died because of that damn cow. I did not know that the cow was thristy and it would run for miles to get to the water, I would catch up wiht her, and chase here back, she would run again. I would chase her all day. One day she swam across the river, I tried to follow her, and the current was too strong, I knew I was in trouble, was not able to swim back to the shallow end, as I fought the current and to stay afloat I felt my self sinking, I knew I was going to drown, there was no one around. No one to see me drown, I would wash down the river, maybe never be found again. As I started to black out and see stars I felt a hand grab me by my hair, it was a young man named Idirz, He pulled me out and said, I was fishing over there in the bushes and saw that you were in trouble. He saved my life that day.

I stopped going to school, Serb children of the town continued to go to school. One day, a Serb classmate I used to beat up on all the time saw me at the river. Him and some older guys saw me there alone. I had a feeling that if they wanted to, they could kill me, no one would care, no one would be responsible. There was no law. They were the law, they did what they wanted to. He came down to me, grabbed my fishing pole and threw it in the water, it floated down river. He asked who is the law now, Serbs? I said yeah Serbs. He said, you know me and my friends can kill you now, no one can do anything, we are the law. I did not say anything. I stood there and looked at the four of them. He said I will see you later, just remember who the law is now.

My father had a good friend, a Serb. He would bring my father alcohol and cigarettes, told him not to worry, that we will be fine. I felt hopeless. I watched my father sit in silence at night, smoke and listen to the radio for hours.

Our small town was still not occupied by Serbs, but we were surrounded, we all had weapons, but compared to the Serb arsenal it was nothing. At night my father would go out and walk around with other neighbors on patrol. I always watched him leave and I was scared I would never see him again, every night he left I looked at it as it was his last time that I would see him, night after night.

My fathers Serb friend had a son, about 17 and by this time I was 11. He would pick me up on his motorcycle, and this is when I fell in love with motorcycles. We would ride to the Serb town where I would eat at his house and just hang out. One day he rode to his friends house with me, there was about 10 or so Serb teenagers. We got off the bike and one of them said, I am going to war, I just got my papers, Im 18, IM going to kill me some Turks.

He asked what my name is, I told him my name, he said are you a Turk I said no, he said liar, I said I swear on the Quran. He slapped me on the head, said fawk you and your Quran, the guy I rode there with, my Serb friend said, he is just a kid let him go man.

[VendettaV2b]

1st page

MORE !!!

Op you got any old shcool pics or anything ?

[NotBigEnough206]

last entry for the day

During this whole time, Muslim men and Catholic men were being rounded up and they were dissapearing. Some were found dead, some were in the local prison. My fathers boss and relative was in the prison. My mother used to go there to give him food. She would see him always beat up and he was malnourished. She would tell me and would say she hopes they never come for our father.

One day these Serbs came, they were from the military police, at least they wore the uniform of military police. They took all the computers, cameras and other valuables from the firm where my father worked. They said they all confiscated it for military use. A few days later a general came there. A Serb General and asked my father where the stuff is. My father said you guys took it, he said who us. He said the Serb Military Police, I was in the attic of the big hanger all this took place.

The genaral took out a knife, put it to my fathers throat and said, what was his name, the name of the guy that took it. My father knew the name, knew the guy personally, but he did not say anything. My father said, I do not know, they were Military Police, that is all I know. I saw all this and thought I will never see my father again. I swore if they kill my father that I will kill him sooner or later. He let my father go, and I never spoke to my father until years later that I saw that. By this time we decided to go to my mothers town and live up there while my father stayed home and worked. We went away and were there for about a week. Then we heard that the Serbs will be coming there first to attack and clear everyone out.

We went back to our own town and went back to live in our house. Food was running low, there was no money, no place to travel, no way to find food. I remember going to some Serb neighbors once a week to get some flour so my mom could bake us some bread. My father put the flour there just in case something happened to him, the Serb neighbors would take care of us if they could. There was some flour, but no oil, no salt or sugar anymore. No cigarettes and no alcohol either. My dogs both now got really skinnny, there was no more food. One day the Serb army came in to the town and on loudspeakers and radio said, anyone that has a weapon needs to bring it to them and turn it in. They will not be touched. Once the Serbs come here again, and search the homes, anyone with a weapon will be killed. So people started turning in their weapons. Now we were going to be surrounded, with no weapons or food.

THIS IS IT FOR TODAY, WILL WRITE MORE TOMORROW

[NotBigEnough206]

1st page

MORE !!!

Op you got any old shcool pics or anything ?

Got one bro, all the pics were burned in the house when the Serbs burned our house down.

[VendettaV2b]

Got one bro, all the pics were burned in the house when the Serbs burned our house down.

jesus christ

damn serbs (no hate but in this story im hating !)

dont no more us. We need more !!

[NotBigEnough206]

jesus christ

damn serbs (no hate but in this story im hating !)

dont no more us. We need more !!

I know bro, Serbs probablly got the same story to tell that I do, damn politicians man and wars. No hate either, Serbs can relate to my story as many have a similar story to tell too.

Getting off work in a few minutes, will writ up more tomorrow around same time or earlier. Story will get interesting.

[Brozart]

I know bro, Serbs probablly got the same story to tell that I do, damn politicians man and wars. No hate either, Serbs can relate to my story as many have a similar story to tell too.

Getting off work in a few minutes, will writ up more tomorrow around same time or earlier. Story will get interesting.

in for more