So there I was.............

mommucked

mommucked

Endeavoring to persevere
Joined
Sep 26, 2011
Location
Rural Apex n.c.
A new thread for telling stories of dumb or unintentionally funny things you did or happened to you.
I'll go first.............So there I was.............. about 4-5 years old, sitting on the concrete driveway at home one summer day w a handfull of .22 cal. bullets I found........... and a hammer. I had some "fun" days before smashing whole rolls of toy capgun ammo w the hammer and figured the .22 bullets would be "better", and I was out of capgun ammo anyway ( probably because I was driving my parents nuts w the bang, bang, bang, etc. of the capgun and me smashing whole rolls at a time w a mighty swing of the hammer ). After a few failed attempts I got it right and BANG:eek: my ears were ringing like crazy and I was kinda dazed by the temporary deafness, it was somewhat strange as my mom looked like she was screaming at me, but I could barely hear her!! and soon my young behind was stinging also after mom quickly figured out what I did to make the loud noise from the evidence laying in the driveway around me. :shaking: I was lucky the bullet did'nt hit me, it left a powder burn and skid mark on the driveway as it left the scene. The good thing was I learned ALOT more about firearm safety after my dad got home from work and had a long talk w me about the incedent......... and another spanking :lol:
 
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My Granddad, a brilliant man in most regards, used to burn leaves in the fall when us kids would come over for a visit. I still remember the smell fondly. Well, to liven things up, he had a box of .22 blank cartridges and he'd throw a couple in the fire and wait for the "bang!" One day, that bang was accompanied by a hot flying brass projectile that hit him right between the eyes, drawing blood. Needless to say, we both learned something that day and he never threw a blank in the fire again.
 
Had a drunken friend toss some shotgun shells into a campfire as he went to pee while I and another friend were'nt watching years ago. One popped and showered hot coals from the fire on us and caused some beer spillage allmost starting a brawl in the woods. I and my other friend would not let the culprit back near the fires warmth on that cold night for about a 1/2 hr. while he circled at a safe distance oppaligizing and whineing about being cold!!

I'm sure many members have many amusing, embarassing, funny or lucky etc. type adventure stories.....please share!
 
In 4 posts this thread turned political. Is that a new record? lol

A barrel at my parents had soem water in it from where it had rained the night before. It was too heavy for me to turn over and drain the water so I thought I'd just drill a hole in it and drain it that way. Next time I'll use a battery powered drill instead of a corded one...
 
criket said:
In 4 posts this thread turned political. Is that a new record? lol

A barrel at my parents had soem water in it from where it had rained the night before. It was too heavy for me to turn over and drain the water so I thought I'd just drill a hole in it and drain it that way. Next time I'll use a battery powered drill instead of a corded one...
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This would have been an appropriate time to bring out the .22 shells!! More fun than a drill, and would have saved you a hard life lesson.
 
had an old metal trashcan at my last shop (it was just one of those flimsy wally world ones) and had a crowd over drinkin and just hangin out and the general consensus became that we needed a fire barrel so this thing was donated to the cause not thinking we needed any air circulation holes we just loaded it up and lit it, it kept burning down and i had to use a shovel to keep it stirred up and burning.... ok ground story now laid..... my cousin pulls up and says dang man can i clean my truck out and throw all my trash in there?? sure man no problem, so he does, lots of drive thru paper, random empty boxes, nothing suspect then about 30mins later I cram the shovel into the can and............BOOOOOOOOOOOMMM!!!!!!! two holes are blown thru side of the can, my lip is almost torn off, a buddy had a piece of metal in his shoulder, and there was an ear mangled on another bystander........ so upon investigation Jeremy had tossed a 12gram CO2 cartridge into the can without knowing!!!!!!!!
 
My grandfather is a big hunter and always had tons of brass casings lying around. He would let me have them and I would always take them home and play with them. Well, was over there one day and grabbed a bunch, but didn't realize I had grabbed a couple of live rounds too. I was worried my dad would find out so I threw them into the back yard thinking he wouldn't find them there.

He didn't, but the lawnmower did.

Fired a round into the French doors on the back of our house. It was a 4-pane door, went through the first two panes. I was sitting right inside of it.

The doors promptly surrendered.
 
Had the bright idea of hiding behind a door to scare my father. So he comes walking in and I Jump from behind the door and scream. He promptly punches me square in the nose, breaking it and fracturing my eyeball socket. Had a hell of a time explaining to the dr that this wasn't child abuse. Just a stupid child. Needless to say I don't scare my father anymore
 
that one punch was so hard it must have knocked your brains loose if you voted for obama
 
mommucked said:
... I was lucky the bullet did'nt hit me, it left a powder burn and skid mark on the driveway my tightie whities as it left the scene. The good thing was I learned all about firearm safety after my dad got home from work and had a long talk w me about the incedent.
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this would have been funnier!
 
when I was about ten or so the trash barrel wouldn't start up good so I decided to pour a little gas on it out of a five gallon jug half full. Needless to say the gas found a hot ember and in about two seconds the whole yard was on fire after I slung the burning gas can across it. It was a good lesson learned.
 
So there I was.............. 1971?.................about 6 or 7, sitting behind the wheel of Dads 64 Chevy Malibu AKA the hunting and fishing car complete w mud, dents , Nab wrappers-beercans/popbottles on the floorboard, and a straight 6. I had steered the car before, sitting in his lap a few times on rural dirt roads. We were now on a hunting trip to Franklin co. to a huge farm our neighbor owned for a while when Dad hit and stuck the front crossmember on a stump hiding in the weeds, while 4 wheeling/climbing a logskidder path up a long steep hill. We got out and looked at the situation and he decided I should try to back up/drive backwards (downhill) while he lifted on the front of the car. After some brief instructions I got a hold of the wheel, put it in reverse and gave a little gas while he yanked on the bumper.............He yelled to " GIVE IT MORE GAS " and.........I DID......the car suddenly lurched free and was now speeding down the hill backwards. I stomped the brake and the car skidded in the dirt as inertia pulled me and my little legs back in the seat, and my foot off the brake, so I did'nt stop and was again rolling down the hill w Dad running alongside yelling " HIT THE BRAKE !!! " the whole time. This cycle of stomp/ slide backwards on the seat/ pull myself foreward and stomp again, was repeated 3 or 4 times and about 75 yrds down the hill w a minefield of deep ruts from the skidder tires, car smashing big stumps, leftover logs, steep drop off etc. but somehow I managed to finally stop the car w/o damage or running Dad over. It was a good thing because we were 2 miles from any help. GOOD TIMES :)
 
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it was 1972 I was 12 I used to build bicycles out of mini bike parts & other scraps I had this bike I built with a banana seat & big chopper fork really thought I was the shit my buddies dared me to jump this gravel pile near this playground so I did the bike got nice air and the seat also came loose from the post which I didn't know till I landed and jammed that post so deep up my ass I think I tasted metal I just dripped off the bike and curled up in a ball after about 5 to 10 minutes of my buddies pissing themselves with laughter they helped me home the lesson I learned always make damn your bike seat bolt is tight;)
 
The collar on the handlebars post should also be tightend well after you loosen it to straighten the crooked Hbars after a laydown crash................... especially important if you plan on pulling up on the handlebars to jump higher or do a wheely after the alignment adjustment. :eek: . I now know both of these helpfull details are better when followed for a fact!! o_O
 
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browneye said:
it was 1972 I was 12 I used to build bicycles out of mini bike parts & other scraps I had this bike I built with a banana seat & big chopper fork really thought I was the shit my buddies dared me to jump this gravel pile near this playground so I did the bike got nice air and the seat also came loose from the post which I didn't know till I landed and jammed that post so deep up my ass I think I tasted metal I just dripped off the bike and curled up in a ball after about 5 to 10 minutes of my buddies pissing themselves with laughter they helped me home the lesson I learned always make damn your bike seat bolt is tight;)
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Just spit out my drink. Now that's funny.
 
mommucked said:
A new thread for telling stories of dumb or unintentionally funny things you did or happened to you.
I'll go first.............So there I was.............. about 4-5 years old, sitting on the concrete driveway at home one summer day w a handfull of .22 cal. bullets I found........... and a hammer. I had some "fun" days before smashing whole rolls of toy capgun ammo w the hammer and figured the .22 bullets would be "better", and I was out of capgun ammo anyway ( probably because I was driving my parents nuts w the bang, bang, bang, etc. of the capgun and me smashing whole rolls at a time w a mighty swing of the hammer ). After a few failed attempts I got it right and BANG:eek: my ears were ringing like crazy and I was kinda dazed by the temporary deafness, it was somewhat strange as my mom looked like she was screaming at me, but I could barely hear her!! and soon my young behind was stinging also after mom quickly figured out what I did to make the loud noise from the evidence laying in the driveway around me. :shaking: I was lucky the bullet did'nt hit me, it left a powder burn and skid mark on the driveway as it left the scene. The good thing was I learned ALOT more about firearm safety after my dad got home from work and had a long talk w me about the incedent......... and another spanking :lol:
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Crazy thing, I did this exact same thing when I was around that age. The only difference between your story and mine is that I actually got hit with some of the brass in my left leg along with a massive powder burn. Oh, another difference was it happened at a friends house and I only found 1 bullet under a cabinet of some sort. First hit didn't do anything except bend the lead second hit found it's mark. I am now left with a scar and a piece of metal in my leg that the doctor said would cause more damage to take out than to just leave it in. Needless to say once I recovered from my gun shot I received a MASSIVE whipping and a talking too. I was also no longer allowed to go to that friends house or be friends with that person. I no longer hit bullets with hammers.
 
I can recall taping a shotgun shell to the end of my bb gun barrel a few times. BANG! I stopped when the primer bounced the bb back into the barrel and it got lodged in the receiver. Ruined an antique bb gun.
 
frankenyoter said:
I can recall taping a shotgun shell to the end of my bb gun barrel a few times. BANG! I stopped when the primer bounced the bb back into the barrel and it got lodged in the receiver. Ruined an antique bb gun.
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on a similar idea, a friend and I put "empty" shells up on and old oil tank, we had cut the end off and emptied the shot out, then stuck the shell into tomato's to keep the shell sfrom rolling of the tank.

From about 25ish feet we shot several of the shells, turned the tomato's into puree, until my buddy shot the last one. still not sure what happened, but there is still a BB lodged in his right bicep. he bled like nothing I'd ever seen at the time ( we were 12ish ) scared the hell out of both of us. we never told anyone about it. it's been thirty some years now, he can still feel the BB in his arm, never did tell his Mom about it.
 
My cousin and I were about 8 and 7 and we both got the bright idea to climb a tree.
Him being the older was above me as I'm following him up further and further up this 50 foot pine. As we got near the top we noticed the faint hum of a hornets nest buzzing along one of the branches. Without a moments hesitation, my cousin breaks a stick off the branch and proceeds to insert it vertically into the.... For lack of a better term "escape hatch" of the now agitated bees.

.... We sat on our branches watching curiously at the outcome of our actions. The hum has now reverted to a roar like the whine of a turbo charged Diesel engine. As i began my decent from the impending carnage he reached to remove the stick to release the bees to their former happy state and broke off the bottom half of their kingdom thus releasing these true warriors of the Forrest.
Without a millisecond of warning the bees attacked him and his foot started attacking my face. With every release from the branch above i was getting kicked in the face and praying to fall onto branch below.


About ten feet from the ground we both ran out of "branch" luck and thudded to the ground knocking the air out of both of us. By this time his mother runs outside grabs us both up, throws us into the back if her Ford Pinto and rushed us to the hospital. By the time we arrived to the ER he had swelled up to an over ripped tomato and i still had nike swoosh prints all over my face. He sustained 83 stings and a discovered bee allergy. I managed 8 stings and a new love for Reeboks.
 
Ouch! I would probably have jumped! Hornets are bad sumbitches.

W all the BB gun stories here's another, I and my young friends decided to play "Cowboys and Indians" w our BB guns one day. We all went home and put on 2 pairs of jeans and met back up to play. We formed teams and the rule was "only shoot below the waist". It was great fun for a day or 2 but the BB's did sting and some had more powerfull guns than others though all were spring powered. It was only a matter of time before someone got hurt and sure enough I heard someone shriek in pain and the game was called off because a friend was hit in the forehead. The BB had entered and traveled about 2" under the skin from the entry wound. We knew we would all be in big trouble so I suggested we pop the BB back out. I pushed on the bump and the BB popped out when I got it back to the whole and we never played that game again. Ofcourse our parents also found out and some had their BB guns taken away for good! good times!
 
One of my cousins shot my other cousin in the foot with my BB gun for no other reason that to see what would happen.When he burst out crying parents came flying out and asked what happened. We all said ricochet. The cousin that got shot was kind of an ass.

Another cousin and I went down to what we called "The Crawdad Hole" to play Army and mess around. (we found a box full of nudie mags there once and I'll get to that in a minute). I digress... On this particular trip he had found a broken garden hoe. One of the cheap ones with a wooden handle and flimsy metal. Well the blade and curved part were gone but rest of the metal was still there with a little bit of a metal point like a ski pole. He was using it as a walking stick for the most part until we find a broken hacksaw hanging in a tree (I have no idea why all of this stuff was down there but it was there none the less). He decides he wants to hit the hacksaw out of the tree with the broken garden hoe. So I'm standing there behind him thinking he is just gonna knock it out of the tree and be done with it. Well he does hit it out of the tree but he also swung ALL THE WAY AROUND and cleaned my clock pretty good. Needless to say I down super hard but I wasn't out; he did manage to split me wide open on the left side of my face. So I'm bleeding pretty good and the first house we come to we knock on the door and ask if I could get fixed up. We were only 6-7 at the time (33 now) so this was when kids were just kids, so the lady lets us in to get me fixed up. The whole time she is cleaning my face and wound she is basically chewing us out for A) screwing around where we were. B) Playing that we are in the Army. Once we get back to Grandma's house (home) Cousin gets chewed out for hitting me in the face, I get chewed out for getting hit in the face and going to a strangers house. Still have the scar even though it is little.

Now for the nudie mags...

Same Cousin that cracked me in the face was with me when we found them. This was just a short time after the smack in the face so we were still young boys. We decide it would be a great idea to take them home; the whole box. This was a pretty good size box and there were a lot of magazines ranging from the early 60's to the, at the time, present. Well we get this massive box of nudies to the house but we leave outside under some brush outside the fence at the back of the yard (Grandma has a pretty big yard no way the box can be seen from the house). Well after a few days it got tiresome going back and forth to the box so we come up with a great plan to get at least some of them into the house. This awesome plans has to take place when it's dark out because it involves us wearing jackets. So the time came for us to put our plan into action and we go to the back of the yard and stuff our jackets with mags and zip them up. We go around the house to the front because we thought that would allow us a better chance to get to my room which had the cover to the crawl space. We make one final check and are sure we look completely normal. My Dad, his Mom, Grandma, and some other family members are sitting at the kitchen table in the dining room, a room we have to go through to get to my room. He goes first as I'm watching to see if he clears the room, amazingly enough he does but the talking stops. I think nothing of it and proceed to get past as well. Unfortunately I get stopped and they call him back into the dining room (he didn't make it to the bedroom). They promptly ask us in a calm manner what is under our jackets. We look at each other and give our best "we don't know what you are talking about" look to the adults and say at the same time "nuthin". Well that didn't work and my Dad and our Uncle unzip both jackets at the same time and out pour 10-12 mags each (I said there were lots and this wasn't all of them). So we are standing there now with the OH :poop: WE ARE SO SCREWED look on our faces. There are no smiles or smirks or giggles from the adults and we just know we are going to get a world record beating. A beating to be heard throughout the ages, in fact we were actually conviced we wouldn't have butts left after the beating. It was the look in their eyes that told the story that we knew was about to unfold. But, to our wonderful surprise one of them just said "Go to your room". We go and never hear another thing about it, they "hid" the contraband in a spot they thought we wouldn't look but they were oh so wrong and we took them back a couple weeks after the incident. Still never heard anything about it.

We used to get into all kinds of trouble as kids.
 
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