Tales from our collective past

[donteatpoop]

Thinking back on our lives I'm sure that there are several interesting tales that we could share with each other. This thread is dedicated to sharing a bit about ourselves through retelling moments from our lives. Funny, sad, enlightening; whatever they may be, post them here.

[donteatpoop]

I'll start, I suppose.


The attempted break-in

This happened when Mrs. Poop and I were in the early stages of our relationship. I was staying at her place, we were all nekkid after a couple rounds of marathon sex when we heard what sounded like growling from just outside the window.

“Did you hear that?” she asked.

“Yeah, what the hell was-“

And then she screamed and pulled the covers up over her. Outside the window was some guy staring in and made another growling sound. I stand up and tell him to “Get the fuck out of here!!”

Clearly my giant pendulum-swinging cock scared him off and he walked away. The direction he walked was along the back of the house, and we heard some banging coming from the bathroom. So I slipped on my pants real quick as I walked to the bathroom. There was the asshole’s arm trying to get in the window. Mrs. Poop had safety windows, so they wouldn’t go up very far and there was no way this jerk-off was going to fit through. So I punched his arm really hard and told him again to get the ‘f’ out of there.

Well he just walked along to the next window, the kitchen. I called for Mrs. Poop to get the phone and call 911 as the assbag attempted to lift the kitchen window. Same windows, same locks; he couldn’t get in.

“I don’t know where the phone is!” Comes the verge-of-tears call of the nekkid lady in the bedroom.

“Well look for it!” I call back as the moron outside moved to the back door.

“I can’t find it!” she says.

Just then the guy slams into the back door and knocks out the deadbolt like it was connected to plywood. The door started to swing inward but was stopped by a mounting pile of dirty laundry. The washer and dryer were there, you see; and the back door area was a laundry room that was sorely behind on its laundry.

I run up and slam the door shut again, apparently hurting one of his fingers in the door as well. I kick a bit more laundry in the way of the door and run to grab a weapon of some sort. Having done a bit of gardening earlier that day, I found a garden rake and held it like a monk who specializes in battle with garden rakes.

“Did you call 911 yet?” I ask.

“I can’t find the phone!”

“Fucking look for it!!”

“I can’t find it!”

Clearly she is too frightened to think rationally, having never left the bedroom in her search for the phone.

The guy slams the door open a bit again, the laundry again stopping him.

“You take a step in here I’ll fucking kill you,” I tell him. I’m sure I looked intimidating with the garden rake poised over my head. I slammed the door shut again, glanced around and quickly spotted the phone.

“Let me in!” He says. I don’t know if he thought that would work or what, but obviously I responded “no”, probably with a few expletives that I can’t recall.

“Let me in!” He repeats.

“No,” I respond once more. “Why the fuck should I let you in?”

“Because I live here!” he says.

Now I know he didn’t live there, because I had been staying there everyday for almost a month. Mrs. Poop didn’t recognize him either, so there was no way he stayed there. “No you don’t,” I said.

“Yes I do,” he replied wittily.

“Then why have I never met you before?” I asked.

A bit of silence.

“Let me in!”

I swear this guy was one of Bugs Bunny’s old enemies, so I used a Bugs-like tactic.

“Alright hold on, I see what the problem is. There’s laundry on the floor blocking the way. Step back; I gotta close the door to move it.”

“Okay,” he says, stepping back. I slam the door shut and start kicking clothes in front of it, packing them in a bit with my foot. I didn’t know how much time I had before he wisened up to what was going on, so I moved quickly; made a fast dash for the phone, dialed 911 and resumed my stance, poised for the attack should he manage to find a way around the dirty laundry barricade.

He slams into the phone as I tell 911 the address.

I tell the guy I have the cops on the phone, but he continues to try and break in. 911 operator asks if I can describe him. “Describe him?” I ask. “Sure, he’s a few inches away.”

I described him in every detail, going so far as to ask the guy “Would you say your eyes are more of a green or a brown?” The assbag actually responded with ‘hazel’. I told him they were really pretty eyes.

911 said the cops were on the way so I told the guy “the cops are on the way, so you better start running unless you want to spend the night in jail.”

He understood then and took off.

The police apprehended him shortly after, found him staggering up the road (not even running). They asked me to identify him and I recognized him immediately, but took the opportunity to get close enough for him to hear me as I said, “Yeah, this is the asshole who tried to break into my house; the stupid son of a bitch tried telling me I lived there.” Then specifically to him I said “Enjoy the cell tonight, fucktard.”

They took him away and we had to answer some questions or whatever. The cops advised us to move out of that side of town, since there was always something crazy happening over there, and we moved in together the next day. I moved out of the big white house in McDonald (which I have more stories about) and we moved into an apartment.

That was almost 10 years ago.

One thing I will add, and hopefully this doesn’t come off as bragging; but I never seem to lose my cool in situations like this. I keep an even head, mock the other person to add to their aggravation and detract from their rationality, and generally do alright. Put me in a room with a bunch of strangers, however, and I become introverted and awkward. It’s one of my favorite things about me, makes me feel good about ‘worst case scenarios’.

[edit]Forgot to mention one detail that may make me look like a bit of an ass. I didn't realize until after the incident, but apparently there were a bunch of knives that I passed up on top of the fridge that I could have easily stabbed the man through the door opening with. Oh well, the garden rake looked way more badass anyway.

[ChubbyTeletubby]

Ya, it would have been pretty shitty if you had stabbed me, dude.

[Vesnic]

My father is an asshole.

[ChubbyTeletubby]

The Mountain Lion

It must have been late October on Cheyenne Mountain (home of NORAD, nestled in the ‘foothills’ of Pikes Peak, in the front range of the Rockies).

[Vesnic]

One of my druggier friends just told me a funny story.

Well, you see, he and my dad used to hate each other. Correction: my dad hated him. He said, "I don't like your fag friend because he reminds me of this kid I knew when I was little who used to pinch his mother in the ass and nearly turned me queer". Years went by. Dad grudgingly accepted him. More years went by. Adam drove three hours to my graduation, and hell, dad gave him a huge hug, planted a fat one on his cheek and said, "Adam, you're a part of the family." He got to like Adam so much that once when I was upstairs doing my makeup, he pulled ol' Adam aside.

"Hey, Adam, you smoke dope right?" Those baby-boomers still call it dope.
"Yes I do, Mr. C."
"You got someone you could hook me up with?"
"No, sorry, Mr. C."
"You ain't good for nothin', kid."
"I'm gonna go smoke a butt now."

Adam has sworn me to secrecy, scouts honor, that I won't ever let on that I know about this. Maybe the old fart actually got connected and I can hit him up now.

[donteatpoop]

The Mountain Lion

It must have been late October on Cheyenne Mountain (home of NORAD, nestled in the ‘foothills’ of Pikes Peak, in the front range of the Rockies).

Booooo! This why people quote your fucking posts, asshole. That was a good story, why'd you go and ruin it?

[donteatpoop]

One night at the big white house in McDonald

I used to stay in a house with two other guys in a really small town. The house was on the corner, had a big yard, and was located right next to a bar. Essentially we had no neighbors. That didn’t stop the police from visiting our house weekly. Apparently the bar would get upset with the noise we were making; it can be understandably difficult to get your drink on if the house next door was having a party.

If you’ve never lived in a small town, it’s difficult to make you appreciate how entertaining the police are. Often when a speeder is pulled over, two additional cruisers will show up… Not for back-up, but because nothing else was going on.

One of the cops who regularly showed up was far from intelligent, and we openly referred to him as Roscoe P Coltrain. He’d knock on the door and we would say things like “Hey Roscoe, what’s going on.”

I won’t talk too much crap about the police there, though; they responded to complaints and undoubtedly could’ve given us a lot more fines and arrests than we got. When the arrests occurred, they were definitely deserved.

Like the time Mike took all his clothes off and started fighting the police.

Mike was one of my roommates friends. He was at the house so often that he probably should have been paying rent, but he was an entertaining guy who was real easy to get along with and often paid for the beers we drank.

Mike was often popping pills and dropping acid. I’ve never been into introducing my body to manufactured chemicals, so I never partook in these things, but I was usually pretty high anyway so it was all good. (I’ve always been into the ‘natural’ drugs such as cannabis and mushrooms. The most processed drugs I partook in were alcohol and opium.)

He was a cool dude, real funny and quick to pick up on gags. Being able to pick up on a gag is very important to me in my friends, as I am a world renown bulls**tter. He and I and a few others had most of the people who came to the house convinced that we competed professionally in Galaga tournaments, and that this (insert month) I/we/he/she would be on ESPN2 at like 3:00am.

Anyway, one night he was at the house drinking and whatever and he informed us that he had dropped 10 hits of acid and was really “freaking out.” He said he needed to get the f**k out of the house, and one of the other guys (Justin) said that they were hungry and needed to go grab some grub. This seemed like the perfect time for Mike to get out, so he got in the car with Justin. I stayed at home and continued to practice my Galaga, as the Molsens were coming up in January and I was going to be up against some of the worlds best players.

The rest of this tale is a combination of what Mike and Justin related to me.

Justin was more than a little drunk and had been speeding “a little” and apparently swerved into the wrong lane. The cops said he swerved, but he swears he didn’t.

So the police pulled them over and Justin is being all calm, gets his license and registration out and answers a few questions. Meanwhile, Mike is going ape-s**t next to him; looking all around real suspicious-like.

Naturally the officers took note of this, radioed for back-up and asked Mike and Justin to step out of the car. As the second cruiser arrived, one of the cops was questioning Justin when all of a sudden they heard a “smack” of Mike’s fist hitting the other officer. (neither of them has any idea why Mike hit the man, but he was on a pretty crazy acid trip, so I guess there didn’t have to be a reason.)

The officer that Mike hit went down and the cops in the other cruiser got out, pulling out their batons (this was before they started carrying tasers). Mike started taking his shirt off while the first officer got to his feet and the other two approached him. More back-up was called.

The police tried to reason with him, but how can you reason with a man who is starting to slip out of his pants? As he stepped out of his jeans, one of the officers stepped in and tried to wrestle him to the ground, but Mike slipped out of it and knocked that guy to the ground.

Eventually the third cruiser arrived. They had one guy on Justin, who was just standing there like “What the f**k?” and the other guy joined the others in surrounding the now fully naked Mike.

They sprayed his with pepper spray, but it didn’t do much aside from angering him further. Anytime one of them would approach, Mike would knock them down like some sort of crazy fat naked prize fighter. It wasn’t too much longer before the police wizened up and started trying to double and triple team him; hitting him with their billy clubs and spraying him with more pepper spray.

He just kept shaking them off though, kept knocking them to the ground; d**k swinging in wind and all.

After a good ten minutes of this they decided to just all jump him at once and bring it down. It worked and they were able to get the cuffs on him and shove him in the back of the cruiser.

Mike was only in jail for a couple of days before he started showing back up at the house. He was an entertaining dude to say the least.

**On a side note, during the final tackle when they got him on the ground, Justin said one of the officers had his face somehow shoved inside of Mike’s ass crack.

[donteatpoop]

Calling off for a trip

I had just bought an eighth of shrooms and decided that I was going to call off of work and trip out. The plan was to use the trip to help me come up write some wacked out story that I had a vague outline of forming in my head.

So I called work and told them I wouldn’t be in. (I told them I had diarrhea, no one ever questions diarrhea.) Then I ate half of the bag of shrooms (which was way more than what I typically ate, and eighth used to be three mild trips for me) These also happened to be a more potent strain of fungi than I usually had.

For those that don’t know, it usually takes half an hour after eating them before you start to feel the effects. So I had half an hour. I ate them and sat around chilling out for a while.

At about twenty minutes I found my notebook but could not locate my lucky pen. I go through phases where I will only use one type of pen when writing, and I was becoming quickly annoyed that I couldn’t find it.

I realized after much searching that I wasn’t going to find it, so I got in my car and sped to the store. The store was about five minutes away. I had to hurry, I didn’t want to be driving when the shrooms kicked in.

I bought the pen real quick-like and got back in my car. The moment I turned the key I started to have that feeling, those of you who have done mushrooms know what I’m talking about; it was the early stages of hallucination.

I had to get home fast.

So I pulled out of the parking lot and booked it home, the drive becoming more and more surreal as I went.

Eventually I was able to make it safely home. I parked the car, grabbed the notebook from the seat, took the pen from the package, and got out. It was so beautiful outside, the colors of the sky seemed to have been pained by hand.

I made my way into the woods behind the parking garage, there was a fallen tree back there that was propped up strangely on the hillside so that one could sit upon it. I had named the tree “The Happy Tree” and it was a common destination of mine to meditate and/or to smoke ganja.

By the time I reached The Happy Tree my mind was starting to really feel the effects of what I had ingested. My vision pulsated wildly, zooming in and out like the camera man who was working my eyes had severe palsy.

I tried to write, I really did; but something pushed up on the bottom of my foot. I became distracted by this. I moved my foot quickly and searched the ground to find the source, but found nothing. Was it because I couldn’t see straight? Or was there nothing there at all? I wasn’t sure.

It took a while before I put my feet back on the ground again and tried to write again. Before my pen could touch the paper, however, I felt it again; something pushing at the sole of my shoe from beneath the ground.

I pulled both feet up off the ground and stared down from the Happy Tree. The ground was pulsating, portions of it looked as though something was going to burst to the surface. I was terrified.

I sat there for an unknown length of time trying to work up the nerve to get off of the tree and run back to the apartment. Eventually I was able to reason with myself that if I stayed on the tree I would be trapped. I came to realize that I had to chance it.

I dropped to the ground and ran through the narrow and winding pathway all the way home.

The next day I looked at the notebook and found one sentence written. The handwriting was unmistakably mine, but it was shaky and paid the lines on the paper no head.

“The ground just tried to eat me.” It said.

I laugh about it now when I occasionally stumble upon this notebook which still has only one sentence written in it. But it was no laughing matter that day.

[Shabti]

That...was fucking awesome!!!

[ChubbyTeletubby]

I love you, DEP.

Me and my ex girlfriend who is still my best friend to this day re-connected recently and we were talking about our New Years 2000 experience. That one involved Acid, though. I'll have to recount this one to you guys. We were partying like it was 1999.

Great stories, DEP. As to WHY I deleted my Mountain Lion story? No idea. Sorry.

For me though, mushrooms usually kick in about 20 minutes after injestion. However I chew them longer, because the psychoactive chemicals hit the bloodstream quicker if you let the enzymes in your saliva do their work. Yes, yes, I know they taste like shit. I usually wash them down with OJ.

Vitamin C DOES help, as well. I actually don't detest the taste as much as most people. But I'm not a picky eater.

I'd really recommend everyone try mushrooms at least ONCE in their life. Do your own research. There are no negative side-affects to body or mind. NONE. Do your own research. And you would have to eat so many mushrooms that your stomach would hemorrhage before you could possibly OD. It's just scientific fact I'm spouting here. Look it up. But PLEASE don't buy what the DEA tells you because they are liars and cheats and criminals, just like the rest of our government is from top to bottom.

Colors become so VIVID and everything looks so BEAUTIFUL words can't even describe. Time slows down. Sounds become surreal. The wind feels like the breath of God. You really begin to appreciate the sky and the sun and nature and EVERY color.

I'm TOTALLY sounding like a dirty hippy here.

Beautiful experience. And usually funny too, because your mind WILL play tricks on you and it's fucking exhilarating.

Nice story.

EDIT:

Mike was only in jail for a couple of days before he started showing back up at the house. He was an entertaining dude to say the least.

Um. No? As someone who has been intimately involved with the criminal justice system I can tell you that assaulting a police officer will land you years in jail, not months. Assault on a public servant is a GRIEVOUS crime whether weapons are involved or not. Your friends are full of shit, my man.

Nice story. But impossible. Just trust me on this one. I KNOW.

[Vesnic]

Say cheese! Got it.

I love you, DEP.

Me and my ex girlfriend who is still my best friend to this day re-connected recently and we were talking about our New Years 2000 experience. That one involved Acid, though. I'll have to recount this one to you guys. We were partying like it was 1999.

Great stories, DEP. As to WHY I deleted my Mountain Lion story? No idea. Sorry.

For me though, mushrooms usually kick in about 20 minutes after injestion. However I chew them longer, because the psychoactive chemicals hit the bloodstream quicker if you let the enzymes in your saliva do their work. Yes, yes, I know they taste like shit. I usually wash them down with OJ.

Vitamin C DOES help, as well. I actually don't detest the taste as much as most people. But I'm not a picky eater.

I'd really recommend everyone try mushrooms at least ONCE in their life. Do your own research. There are no negative side-affects to body or mind. NONE. Do your own research. And you would have to eat so many mushrooms that your stomach would hemorrhage before you could possibly OD. It's just scientific fact I'm spouting here. Look it up. But PLEASE don't buy what the DEA tells you because they are liars and cheats and criminals, just like the rest of our government is from top to bottom.

Colors become so VIVID and everything looks so BEAUTIFUL words can't even describe. Time slows down. Sounds become surreal. The wind feels like the breath of God. You really begin to appreciate the sky and the sun and nature and EVERY color.

I'm TOTALLY sounding like a dirty hippy here.

Beautiful experience. And usually funny too, because your mind WILL play tricks on you and it's fucking exhilarating.

Nice story.

Yeah, mushrooms are awesome except when they make people go batshit insane with fear and throw up their guts all over everything. But I'm not speaking from experience, just what happened to a friend of a friend. Some people hate losing control and logic. That's my idea of heaven.

[ChubbyTeletubby]

If you are a weak minded peon who accepts what's handed to you, NO, you shouldn't do mushrooms.

You must have a VERY strong mind. And any unresolved or horrible memories you've been suppressing WILL come to surface. You must be comfortable with yourself and your darkest secrets.

I love my mushrooms.

[apotheosis]

Great stories. DEP, to your first story, you should've fucked the guy up more. If you killed him, you could've claimed that he was armed and threatening your life, gotten off on self defense, and gotten the satisfaction in knowing you now own two souls. (when you kill someone you get there soul)

Not really though, but another thing you could've done is just kissed his hand and poured lye on it.

[Hi! My name is: Katie]

Or you could have chopped off his hand. You might not have gotten his soul, but you'd have gotten his fingers... and that's gotta be worth at least a few points. How did I miss this thread in the first post?

Let's see, I think I will tell a story of unrequited love.

Many and many a man have approached me in my natural habitat. Unsuspecting of their intentions toward my supple body, I tend to turn them down without even realizing it until someone points out that whatever exchange I engaged in left evidence of a trampled heart along the floor all the way to the exit. Ooops.

I have a friendly disposition. It is simply the way I am. I am approachable, and friendly and helpful to people at work. On occasion men find my biddable nature appealing, and they seek more of my company. This is the story of Big Red.

Big Red was a large friendly bloke with chubby sausage fingers, but a muscular looking build. He was named for the mop of red hair that made him so memorable. He had a cute style, but social quirks that made talking to people extremely difficult.

When Big Red first entered the library, it was to look up things on the internet. He was a musician, and looking for free riffs to jam with on his guitar... or something. In any case, he came up to the desk to talk to me frequently about work related stuff.

Each visit was scattered with bumbles. He seemed literally to choke on his words in my presence. A few times after walking to the desk and looking at me he would simply walk away. Our affair went on for weeks across the countertop at the library. He would ask me to add money to his printing account or look up a book... and I would.

Finally, one day he came to the desk and asked me if I was planning to have coffee... we had run into each other once at Starbucks after work. He had beamed at me in recognition and waved, while I tried to avert my eyes and be discrete about rejecting him. I told him I would not be going to coffee that night. He then proceeded to attempt to strike up a conversation about movies. However, I thwarted this too by having not seen the movies he chose. Finally he wandered off undeterred. For the next hour, I could see his body moving in a pacing motion in the reference section less than 10 feet away. He seemed to be practicing his words.

Then he got his balls up and came back to the desk. He asked me for my email and phone number. Politely I told him it would be inappropriate for me to give that information to him because I am at work. He was crushed, but there is more to this tale. A twist in store for any who bothered to read this far...

I turned the lad to farm animal sex, and sex with other men. Working at a library you quickly become abreast of any perversions in the public. Big Red came in when I was away from the desk and asked my cohort if there were any books on sex. A proper reference interview was performed to narrow down Big Red's sexual interests. He asked about homosexual sex, and then about sex with animals. He wanted to know how to stop having sex with these animals. How to get a girl... namely: me. I walked into the conversation as they were talking about men that can't have sex. And I suggested he become a eunuch. Both guys looked at me and Big Red seemed appalled.

I'm not sure why, but I never heard from him again. He didn't come to the desk as much after that. Not that I didn't have others behind him. But something about Big Red was very memorable, and touching... and perverse.