- Joined
- Feb 13, 2005
- Messages
- 6,854
- Reaction score
- 622
*deep breath*
Here goes. Time to clear the air.
I'm a bad man. On the Rotten sliding scale, I fall somewhere between Attilla and $8.00 a gal. gasoline.
Confessions:
Built a 6'(+) snow penis in a hated neighbor's driveway. (His sainted wife is still in therapy.)
Sent another hated neighbor a ransom demand for his foo-foo dog, (which I really didn't kidnap) and demanded a bag of mini-Snickers in payment, "else Fido goes into the microwave."
Stole jack-o-lanterns from 17 houses during Halloween '77. Bombed Alicia Martin's house with them.
Stuck gum to the hem of Father Hartsell's priestly digs. Laughed my ass off all during Mass.
Taped silk undies to the inside cover on Mike A's ticketbook. When Mike opened said ticketbook during a traffic stop, a certain Mr. and Mrs. Joe Citizen were "thonged." Mrs. Joe Citizen is still in therapy.
"Borrowed" the four wheeler from a certain local game warden's truck while he was giving his state supervisor a tour of the county courthouse. Drove said four wheeler into the local high school gym. Left gym with keys in my pocket.
Greeted 108 newbies in the newbie forum since 2004. Asked them all if I could borrow money "until next Tuesday." Usally $20.00. None have ever sent Paypal. Bummer.
Gave Ray Wong a wedgie. He liked it. I never did it again.
When I was 10, I told my little brother he was adopted from the Little Rock Zoo. Told him Mr. Bim was his real father. Little brother cried. Dad smacked me upside the head. I didn't mind. Much.
Poured three cans of sardines-in-mustard sauce into the manifold of Gary Johnston's truck back in '80. It was winter. He ran the heater for only a short time. A week later, he sold his truck.
In the fourth grade, I killed Bobby Peterson's G.I. Joe with my dad's skillsaw. Told Bobby G.I. Joe was really a "red spy from Cuba." Hell, I didn't even know what a red spy was. Didn't care. Just heard my dad and uncles talking about them. It pissd Bobby off. I was a happy little camper.
A few weeks after executing G.I. Joe, I sold my youngest brother for 50 cents and a stack of Green Lantern comics to Bobby. (Gullible little prick.)Mom made me give back the money. I kept the comics. Told Bobby my brother ate 'em. Bobby is now way beyond any help from therapy. So is little brother.
*whew* I feel better.
Thank you.
Next? Confession is good for the soul. Or not.
Here goes. Time to clear the air.
I'm a bad man. On the Rotten sliding scale, I fall somewhere between Attilla and $8.00 a gal. gasoline.
Confessions:
Built a 6'(+) snow penis in a hated neighbor's driveway. (His sainted wife is still in therapy.)
Sent another hated neighbor a ransom demand for his foo-foo dog, (which I really didn't kidnap) and demanded a bag of mini-Snickers in payment, "else Fido goes into the microwave."
Stole jack-o-lanterns from 17 houses during Halloween '77. Bombed Alicia Martin's house with them.
Stuck gum to the hem of Father Hartsell's priestly digs. Laughed my ass off all during Mass.
Taped silk undies to the inside cover on Mike A's ticketbook. When Mike opened said ticketbook during a traffic stop, a certain Mr. and Mrs. Joe Citizen were "thonged." Mrs. Joe Citizen is still in therapy.
"Borrowed" the four wheeler from a certain local game warden's truck while he was giving his state supervisor a tour of the county courthouse. Drove said four wheeler into the local high school gym. Left gym with keys in my pocket.
Greeted 108 newbies in the newbie forum since 2004. Asked them all if I could borrow money "until next Tuesday." Usally $20.00. None have ever sent Paypal. Bummer.
Gave Ray Wong a wedgie. He liked it. I never did it again.
When I was 10, I told my little brother he was adopted from the Little Rock Zoo. Told him Mr. Bim was his real father. Little brother cried. Dad smacked me upside the head. I didn't mind. Much.
Poured three cans of sardines-in-mustard sauce into the manifold of Gary Johnston's truck back in '80. It was winter. He ran the heater for only a short time. A week later, he sold his truck.
In the fourth grade, I killed Bobby Peterson's G.I. Joe with my dad's skillsaw. Told Bobby G.I. Joe was really a "red spy from Cuba." Hell, I didn't even know what a red spy was. Didn't care. Just heard my dad and uncles talking about them. It pissd Bobby off. I was a happy little camper.
A few weeks after executing G.I. Joe, I sold my youngest brother for 50 cents and a stack of Green Lantern comics to Bobby. (Gullible little prick.)Mom made me give back the money. I kept the comics. Told Bobby my brother ate 'em. Bobby is now way beyond any help from therapy. So is little brother.
*whew* I feel better.
Thank you.
Next? Confession is good for the soul. Or not.
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