Hellions

[always2late]

I've always loved fresh tomatoes, and my parents used to grow them in the yard. Not those supermarket tomatoes...the big, red, juicy, REAL tomatoes! As you might have guessed, a few of those tomatoes ended up being thrown...but that's not what got me into huge trouble. When I was about 9, I was eating a tomato and noticed that the inside looked very much like the inside of my cheek. Expanding on that logic, I cut a thin piece of tomato out and scraped it until it looked like my tongue (it is amazingly realistic!) I then put it over my tongue and went to find my mom. "Hey mom," I yelled "there is something wrong with my tongue!" And when I saw I got her attention, I opened my mouth and started peeling off the tomato layer. My mother screamed loud enough to shatter an eardrum (she's a little bit of a hysteric) and ran to the phone, I assume, to dial 911. I stopped her before she did and showed her that it wasn't real...and then got a whuppin' for it. But I STILL chuckle when I think about it to this day (warped sense of humor)...so I guess it was worth it.

[Rockinonahigh]

Fast horses,faster hot rods, jack daniels and hot women..need I say more.

[Cin]

I’m not sure what was wrong with me but for a good portion of my life I seemed rather clueless and unconcerned about the fragility of human life, especially in regards to my own. As a kid I wasn’t so much a hellion as I was an absent-minded possessor of exceedingly poor judgment. An early indicator of my lack of comprehension concerning the importance of protecting one’s person from harm was my love of playing chicken. Chicken was the name of any game where you either did something really stupid for a longer period of time or something dangerous more dangerously than the other idiots playing with you. I started around 5 and it was a game I always seemed to win, if indeed one could call the end results of many of these endeavors winning.

A minimally popular game I invented, called of course chicken, (don’t worry, what I lacked in imagination I made up for in dimness) when I was around 9 was to take shopping carts from the grocery store and race them down hills. The idea was to push the cart down a sloping, low volume side street, pick up speed, jump in and ride it toward a busy street into oncoming traffic, jumping back out at the last possible second hopefully knocking the cart over in the process so as to avoid it or you getting hit by a car. The object was to go faster than the other guy while also coming as close as you possibly could without actually getting hit by a car. How it usually turned out was whoever had the nerve to stay riding the longest won. I was pretty good at it. And I only lost a couple of carts and once got chased down the street by an irate driver. The guy seemed positively spastic because he had almost hit me with his car, yet was hell bent on getting his hands on me, seemingly with the sole purpose of doing me bodily harm. A puzzler that.

My mother’s favorite (and I use the term loosely) story was the time I got thrown off the Round-up at the amusement park. I met this kid at the park and he was telling me how he could do tricks on the Round-up. He could kneel on the chain and stuff like that. So we went on together and he started doing his tricks and I remember thinking hell, why not bypass this chain stuff all together. I told him let’s walk around. We can start slow and just go from standing station to standing station and then try to walk around the ride. I still remember how hard it was to fight the centrifugal force. Pulling away from the wall was like breaking suction. Walking was really a struggle. Then all of sudden I heard the sound of the hydraulic fluid releasing and the ride got horizontal, slowed down and stopped. I remember thinking that was a short ride, maybe somebody got sick. Then I noticed the ride operator. He was all red in the face and screaming at me to get off. Everyone else was told to stay on. The guy was apoplectic. There was spittle flying from his mouth as he hollered for me to never ever come back on any ride he was operating again. I remember being quite surprised at his reaction. I had no idea my doing a few tricks was going to cause such a problem. As I left the ride, I looked over at the crowd and saw my mother’s horrified face. Shit, where did she come from, I remembered thinking. Then I noticed my father standing next to her and he didn’t look so much horrified as he did very, very pissed. We both moved at the same. He came for me and I ran like hell through the park, over the fence surrounding the merry-go-round, and out the gate. Not sure where I thought I was going. I was only eleven, too young to get an apartment and support myself.

It took me years to figure out what all the fuss was about. I thought people just over reacted to my liking a rush every now and again. Initially, adrenaline was my drug of choice.

[Talon]

Originally Posted by Miss Tick

I’m not sure what was wrong with me but for a good portion of my life I seemed rather clueless and unconcerned about the fragility of human life, especially in regards to my own. As a kid I wasn’t so much a hellion as I was an absent-minded possessor of exceedingly poor judgment. An early indicator of my lack of comprehension concerning the importance of protecting one’s person from harm was my love of playing chicken. Chicken was the name of any game where you either did something really stupid for a longer period of time or something dangerous more dangerously than the other idiots playing with you. I started around 5 and it was a game I always seemed to win, if indeed one could call the end results of many of these endeavors winning.

A minimally popular game I invented, called of course chicken, (don’t worry, what I lacked in imagination I made up for in dimness) when I was around 9 was to take shopping carts from the grocery store and race them down hills. The idea was to push the cart down a sloping, low volume side street, pick up speed, jump in and ride it toward a busy street into oncoming traffic, jumping back out at the last possible second hopefully knocking the cart over in the process so as to avoid it or you getting hit by a car. The object was to go faster than the other guy while also coming as close as you possibly could without actually getting hit by a car. How it usually turned out was whoever had the nerve to stay riding the longest won. I was pretty good at it. And I only lost a couple of carts and once got chased down the street by an irate driver. The guy seemed positively spastic because he had almost hit me with his car, yet was hell bent on getting his hands on me, seemingly with the sole purpose of doing me bodily harm. A puzzler that.

My mother’s favorite (and I use the term loosely) story was the time I got thrown off the Round-up at the amusement park. I met this kid at the park and he was telling me how he could do tricks on the Round-up. He could kneel on the chain and stuff like that. So we went on together and he started doing his tricks and I remember thinking hell, why not bypass this chain stuff all together. I told him let’s walk around. We can start slow and just go from standing station to standing station and then try to walk around the ride. I still remember how hard it was to fight the centrifugal force. Pulling away from the wall was like breaking suction. Walking was really a struggle. Then all of sudden I heard the sound of the hydraulic fluid releasing and the ride got horizontal, slowed down and stopped. I remember thinking that was a short ride, maybe somebody got sick. Then I noticed the ride operator. He was all red in the face and screaming at me to get off. Everyone else was told to stay on. The guy was apoplectic. There was spittle flying from his mouth as he hollered for me to never ever come back on any ride he was operating again. I remember being quite surprised at his reaction. I had no idea my doing a few tricks was going to cause such a problem. As I left the ride, I looked over at the crowd and saw my mother’s horrified face. Shit, where did she come from, I remembered thinking. Then I noticed my father standing next to her and he didn’t look so much horrified as he did very, very pissed. We both moved at the same. He came for me and I ran like hell through the park, over the fence surrounding the merry-go-round, and out the gate. Not sure where I thought I was going. I was only eleven, too young to get an apartment and support myself.

It took me years to figure out what all the fuss was about. I thought people just over reacted to my liking a rush every now and again. Initially, adrenaline was my drug of choice.

*chuckle*....This is great!

[deb_U_taunt]

I still have burn scars from playing chicken with cigarettes.

We had a shopping cart track, too. My mom had enough, when my cousin opened up his head on a curb though. lol

Originally Posted by Miss Tick

Chicken was the name of any game where you either did something really stupid for a longer period of time or something dangerous more dangerously than the other idiots playing with you.

[Cin]

Originally Posted by Debby

I still have burn scars from playing chicken with cigarettes.

We had a shopping cart track, too. My mom had enough, when my cousin opened up his head on a curb though. lol

Ya, played that, forearm to forearm, loser moves first.

I thought I invented that shopping cart into oncoming traffic game. Probably kids all over with access to shopping carts, hills and plenty of traffic figure out how to put it all together for a delightful mixture of fun and near death experiences.

And I’m pretty positive my mother would have been quite upset to see me careening into on coming traffic atop a shopping cart. It is an activity I’m sure she would have strongly discouraged had she learned of it.

A fun game we often played in North park was “BWANNA”. I came from a place devoid of creativity. Our parks had uninspired names like North Park, South Park, the East End Park and in the Italian section, Columbus Park, perhaps this contributed to my lack of imagination. Anyway at least this game wasn’t named chicken. The rules were simple, one guy was “BWANNA” and he or she had a stick and would chase everyone else until he/she hit one other person with the stick, once you were hit with the stick you found a stick of your own and began chasing people trying to whack them and so on and so on until everyone but one person had a stick. That poor schmuck was the winner and then everyone chased him or her with their sticks, ran the guy down and beat him/her enthusiastically, yelling “BWANNA”. It was always a bittersweet victory. After turning 13, some of us from the old neighborhood would still play this game but we took acid or mescaline first. It added a dimension.

Ah, good times, good times.

[ruffryder]

let's seee.. takes out the list*

I threw a lawn dart into my cousins head. he had to have surgery. thankfully he wasn't left disabled or worse. he is fine.

We would raid the liquor cabinet at home and invite friends over to play quarters all day.

We would sneak to the back shed to smoke.

I called an 800 number and racked up my grandparents bill cause I was curious.

I used to get whacks with a garden hose and pinched in church so I must have done something wrong.

I took off on my bike for the day with a friend and rode to another town 12 miles away without permission and got busted.

I kissed a girl in her tree house and copped a feel.

I would shoot squirrels and birds with a bb gun and throw rocks at them.

I blew up barbies and gi joes and anything else with fireworks including my fingers.

I burned ants and flooded them.

oh wow, i'm such a good boy now compared to then

[Words]

Originally Posted by ruffryder

I blew up barbies and gi joes and anything else with fireworks including my fingers.

Okay, I definitely need new glasses.

I read this the first time as ''I blew up babies and gi joes....''!!!

[ruffryder]

Originally Posted by Words

Okay, I definitely need new glasses.

I read this the first time as ''I blew up babies and gi joes....''!!!

haaa, arrrrrr. I would definitely have some issues there!

[luv2luvgirls]

when I was little my pop had this HUGE salt water fish tank with lots of sharks and a few rare fish,anyway I loved milk so one day while drinking my milk.. I had a thought ..hmm I bet the fish would love a drink of milk,so into the tank I poured my glass of milk I was in trouble

When I was 3 or 4 my sisters were painting and left it on the floor yes I played in it with my feet and liked making footprints all through the bedroom and hallway.. I tried denying I did it,but yeah the paint all over me gave it away

I also thought I was stronger and tougher than my parents gave me credit for when I was 4,so I decided one day to take our white german shepard for a walk "I was told I was not to ever do this".. neekid.. thats important so soon she was distracted by a squirrel and I was being dragged behind her.. I held on for so long that when I let go I didnt know where I was,so I wandered till a cop picked me up,I was all bloody and neekid...plus I didnt wanna go home and face my pops, in the station house I went with them all playing with me,they put a cop shirt on me and a badge and thier hat. I was lovin it,till they found out who my parents were,was in trouble one for losing the dog and two for being neekid

when I was 5 I wanted to cut hair with clippers.. so the cat that happened to be an angora became my lil guinea pig.. it was bald when I was done

I liked to play with my pops colonge but I couldnt use what came out of the bottle .. ohh no I needed it to be unique so I would mix this much of that one with this much of this one.. poor pop never could keep some colonge or me out of his stuff

at a young age I decided I was my families keeper,which meant dont even look sideways at my older siblings,one day in 3rd grade I look up and see my brother who was in 4th in the hall upstairs and a patrol was messing with him,well I couldnt have that I marched over and football punted the poor 5th grader. I was in soooo much trouble

in 5th grade I was accused of something I didnt do,so I wouldnt admitt to doing what the teacher was adamant I did,was sent to the VP's office for a paddling,it was all wood like a cricket bat with holes drilled in for less wind resistance,well I wouldnt make a noise and he got madder that made me lol at him so he ended up breaking his paddle on my butt.. shoot my pop could hit the hyde off your ass,that guy wasnt doing nuttin

[ruffryder]

ADDING TO THE LIST..

EVER BEEN TOILET PAPERING OR EGGING?

YEA, ME 2!

[BrownEyedAngel]

Hmmm....let's see....ahem...

Age 3...got a spanking for kissing my neighbor Leigh....and her sister, Amy....I wasn't allowed to play with them anymore...

Age 4....Dumped my preemie baby brother out of my doll cradle that Mom had borrowed from me because he was so small (he was fine, he landed on the dog)

Age 5....wasted an entire kitchen drawer full of trading stamps when I stuck them all over my brother ( I was gonna mail him to China)

Age 8....got in BIG trouble for showing the preacher's daughter Sonya how to French kiss....

Age 11.....got caught smoking

By the time I was a teenager I was drinking, smoking pot, & sneaking out....yeah, you could say I was a hellion....

[Bad_boi]

I broke a lot of things. Some on purpose some just because.
I wouldn't do my schoolwork if I didn't think it was useful (algebra)
I played a shit ton of practical jokes.

I also stole pokemon cards on occasion because I was an 11 year old badass, lol JK

[undone]

Let's see...

I was always in trouble for playing kissing games with Laura in my Lutheran kinder-garden, yep even liked the boish ones back then.

I would do stupid things for spite, like knocking over the chair and refusing to pick it up made my mom so made after asking and telling me that my aunt who lived down the block heard her screaming at me and came to check on us. I still wouldn't pick it up for my mom or my favorite aunt. Mom was in tears when she gave up.

Dad was building a large play house bigger than my bedroom and he had some windows he was gonna use in it left over from a job somewhere else, apparently he took too long and I soon discovered I thoroughly enjoyed the sound of breaking glass. looked up as I was smashing the last one when I saw his shadow on the ground... opp's didn't think that one through did I?

I decided long pig tails were too tight and pulling out my mind so I didn't want them anymore i tried to cut them my self between my scalp and the hair tie i gave up half way through and when mom took my hair out to brush it my long pretty blond hair that she loved ended up in her hand and she freaked out! My cousins love this story, more than thirty years latter they still find it funny has hell.

The teenage years were mostly jumping off various roofs, Showing the guys in the apartment complex that a girl could take them on and win, watching the other girls get drunk and stupid, filling the hot tub with soap, sneaking out just to sneak out or jump the gate of the local pool with no one else around was my favorite nighttime pastime float in the darkness and star at what ever stars that could be seen in some variance of San Bernadino or Riverside Southern California.