Going Too Far
Ever had one of your mates go too far? Back when I was a teenager I went to stay with a friend in the country. We took his dog for a walk in some woods - which was fun.
We came across a breeding pen for the local pheasant shoot - which was interesting.
But then my friend broke into the cages, grabbed a pheasant, strangled it and proceeded to throw it around, only managing to rescue it from his dog's jaws seconds before a gamekeeper turned up to see what the hell was going on. Now, that was a bit too far...
( , Fri 10 Nov 2006, 14:11)
Ever had one of your mates go too far? Back when I was a teenager I went to stay with a friend in the country. We took his dog for a walk in some woods - which was fun.
We came across a breeding pen for the local pheasant shoot - which was interesting.
But then my friend broke into the cages, grabbed a pheasant, strangled it and proceeded to throw it around, only managing to rescue it from his dog's jaws seconds before a gamekeeper turned up to see what the hell was going on. Now, that was a bit too far...
( , Fri 10 Nov 2006, 14:11)
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Way too far (its long but worth it)
One of my mates occasionally has too many when we go to the pub, and rather than leave his car there, has the nasty habit of driving home trolleyed. One night he did it when I was staying at his, and to this day he swears he'll never do it again.
You see, the next morning after a heavy session at the local he was still in bed nursing the mother of all hangovers. I'd got up a few hours before him due to my not being totally wankered the night before, and happened to catch the local news. It turned out that some old duffer had been knocked over and killed by a hit and run driver the night before. Well...the opportunity was just too tempting.
So with a spring in my step I almost ran down to the town center. I had three stops on my list:
The butchers (Pigs hearts a free if you ask nicely)
The hairdressers (They look at you funny but they'll give you a bit of hair if you ask)
The Off-Licence (You still have to buy a local paper)
So back I go to his house. The coast is clear. Good. No going back now. After little more than 2 minutes my master piece is ready for action. The corner of his car looks like an Iraqi. Its doused in pig blood and little bits of flesh and hair, and the headlight is smashed. I paused a bit before smashing it, but decided that it would make it look more real, and wouldn't cost too much to replace.
An hour later up he gets, still half asleep. He glances at the perfectly placed paper but thinks nothing of it. Then about half-an-hour later he goes out to his car. The look of slow realisation dawning on his face has he realised what must have happened was absolutely priceless, and worth any amount that the headlight would cost.
Then it reached a new height of funny for me. He started almost crying saying that he'd have to turn himself in. At this point most people would have stopped, but not me...no way.
I offered to go with him, and let him get all the way to the front door of the police station before I told him the truth.
( , Wed 15 Nov 2006, 16:27, Reply)
One of my mates occasionally has too many when we go to the pub, and rather than leave his car there, has the nasty habit of driving home trolleyed. One night he did it when I was staying at his, and to this day he swears he'll never do it again.
You see, the next morning after a heavy session at the local he was still in bed nursing the mother of all hangovers. I'd got up a few hours before him due to my not being totally wankered the night before, and happened to catch the local news. It turned out that some old duffer had been knocked over and killed by a hit and run driver the night before. Well...the opportunity was just too tempting.
So with a spring in my step I almost ran down to the town center. I had three stops on my list:
The butchers (Pigs hearts a free if you ask nicely)
The hairdressers (They look at you funny but they'll give you a bit of hair if you ask)
The Off-Licence (You still have to buy a local paper)
So back I go to his house. The coast is clear. Good. No going back now. After little more than 2 minutes my master piece is ready for action. The corner of his car looks like an Iraqi. Its doused in pig blood and little bits of flesh and hair, and the headlight is smashed. I paused a bit before smashing it, but decided that it would make it look more real, and wouldn't cost too much to replace.
An hour later up he gets, still half asleep. He glances at the perfectly placed paper but thinks nothing of it. Then about half-an-hour later he goes out to his car. The look of slow realisation dawning on his face has he realised what must have happened was absolutely priceless, and worth any amount that the headlight would cost.
Then it reached a new height of funny for me. He started almost crying saying that he'd have to turn himself in. At this point most people would have stopped, but not me...no way.
I offered to go with him, and let him get all the way to the front door of the police station before I told him the truth.
( , Wed 15 Nov 2006, 16:27, Reply)
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