True story time. Subject: outrageous act/s you have committed? Do tell.

I have a couple stories, two I especially like to re-tell, if only because few would suspect it of me. You see, my manner is pretty similar to my voice, and there's the ha ha. Ha ha HA HA. Mwa ha ha! – but you know, in my little lady-like voice.

So this story is about how I first came to the attention of my future husband. At the time, we hadn’t yet met. We were both in college and had joined “the Greeks”. His fraternity had a “little sister” program, which I had joined.

One very dull Sat night, I got a call from the prez of the little sisters who had theoretically scoped out the fraternity and found it practically empty: a perfect opportunity for Prank Night. So I joined them, altogether maybe 10 of us, armed with instant onion soup mix for the shower heads. Someone brought kaopectate with which to sweeten their milk – and there were a sundry means of devastation for which we were prepared. We were instantly industrious and went about our work methodically (later we learned that we were actually pretty successful with many of our surprises) until one of the brothers came up from the basement. Our intel had not included basement status.

Immediate havoc erupted as the brothers realized that 10 sneaking girls could not be a good thing and they roared to life, screaming threats as they tried to round us up. I hid in corners, dodged a few run-ins, but soon had two of them chasing me the length of the hall way on the second floor that was set up like a dormitory.

I was thoroughly scared at this point. “HELP” I screamed (really meaning it) and suddenly one of the bedroom doors opened and 2 of the other little sisters frantically gestured me in, slamming the door shut with me barely inside, practically in the faces of three of the more furious brothers.

Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit, we matra’d, as the guys were yelling and beating on the other side of the door. “What are they going to Do to us!” gasped Lori. “They sound really mad,” murmured Kim. “I don’t know, and I don’t want to find out!” I said.

We looked around. It was a double bedroom and it had only the one door. No attic access. We opened the window. Yeah, we could get out, but we were on the second floor: too far to jump. But – but wait a second. One of the guys had made a loft bed. I shook the support post and it was sturdy.

“Hey listen,” I said. “We can tie the sheets together, tie them around this post, and go out the window.”

“No one does that for real,” countered Kim. “I dunno,” hesitated Lori.

“WE’RE GOING TO STRIP YOU AND LET YOU WALK HOME NAKED!!!” screamed the voices on the other side of the door.

“Oh Yeah!” I yelled back. I looked at my friends: “I’m doing this.” And while we heard the guys planning to take the door off the hinges, I stripped the beds, knotted the sheets together, tied them to the post, and threw the loose end out the window. It was about 6 or 8 feet shy from touching the ground. There was a bean bag chair, so I threw that out the window for a landing – just in case. And then I went out the window.

I could never climb a rope in gym, but when push came to shove, I could climb a rope made of sheets. Just as I jumped into the bean bag chair, I heard someone shout: “NO!! Wait!” I looked and saw someone on the roof. I didn’t even wait to see if Lori would make it OK (she was about halfway down). I RAN, and kept running until I was home, in my bedroom, slamming the door shut.

Well, as it happened, the someone on the roof was my husband-to-be, and he was crazy worried that we were going to kill ourselves. And, even more coincidentally, it was His bedroom from which I made my escape. Later he told me that he had inspected my handiwork: nice strong square knots (so much so that the sheets were permanently distorted and never washed back into shape), well-chosen post, nice touch with the bean bag chair. Apparently, he surmised, this girl can handle herself in a situation.

Final detail: his roommate, who had made the loft and whose sheets had been destroyed, ended up winning a McDonald’s sweepstakes, something like $500K. He quit school and moved to Colorado, where presumably he didn’t have to wonder about strange girls destroying his room.

A Yes in Badass.

I Am The 1337 Master
Badass.

more like scared ass.

— (wildebeests scowling)

But you didn't tell a story about yourself! Singing in front of a crowd is daring.
I've never entertained in public, other than being the cymbals-girl in the jr high symphony orchestra.

Tell a story!

That's an awesome story Ayes! :)

ozoneocean
no story of his own

great. a one story thread.

Edit (due to post that follows this one - didn't want to take up yet another post in my own thread):

YAY! Thanks, Oz! yer just one of the most obligin' gents on the internet.

And your story is far more awesome. I acted like one of your mates and ran away. You stuck it through.

It's hard to recall anything as amazing as that. ^_^
Yours could make a great movie scene!
——————–
For me it's hard since I've told most of my cool stories to DD people already. Can't think of any that bear repeating…
OK, there was the one where I beat the bully with a quick wit. I like that one:

-There was this big, tough, rough Scottish guy who'd just recently come to my school. He was in the year above me and he'd already stayed back a year so he was 2 years older than me. He started hanging out with this small, mean British guy (a year above me) who was also fairly new, and a bit of a gang ringleader. These guys were trying to form a sort a small gang of their own
Anyway, me and my little group of odd-balls happened to be in the wrong area at the wrong time one day. Too late we noticed there were no teachers in sight and not enough friends to back us up. Were were outnumbered: Me and three friends against the Scott, the Brit and all these other older kids they were with - a very large group at that moment

It turned out that the Scott just wanted to pick on me for some reason. So pretty soon everyone was gathered in a big circle, crowding round him and I as he taunted me. I couldn't rely on my friends for help of course, they chickened right out, so I was stuck in the middle with this big, burly, red-faced bully who wanted to physically harm me. He kept on saying he was going to “deck” me, and I had NO idea what that meant, but I definitely didn't want to try it out.

So I did the calculations. I realised I was on my own there, I couldn't let that guy get anywhere close to me and I couldn't take him in any normal fight- so I was going to try and keep it to blocks and kicks, dodging and dancing all the time, staying well out of reach.

As the big fool tried to get a hit on me and kept missing or getting blocked time and time again, he got angrier and redder in the face, telling me that I should fight him properly, not dodge and kick like a pansy. I countered that HE was the one that wanted a fight, not me, and I was only a little guy, two years younger than him as well.
And then I laughed at him… And I noticed that some of the older kids sniggered at him as well.

That's when I saw my chance: I realised that he was just trying show off to them by beating me up and that they weren't really on his side afterall. So I pressed my advantage. I speculated loudly on the reasons that he'd singled me out- perhaps he found me attractive and wanted to have sex with me? He wanted to rape me or something?
And a lot of stuff in that vein… These were extremely homophobic, primitive days back then and any accusations of that nature that you could make stick could REALLY hit home.

I said some really nasty, horrible things about this guy in front of that crowd of his peers, the gay stuff, making fun of him for being stupid and staying down a year, making fun of him for being so cowardly, weak and pathetic that he could only pick on small guys 2 years younger than him… I didn't pull any punches, so to speak. I let myself be as vile, nasty and evil as I possibly could about any subject I could think of to make people laugh at him and make him seem as small as possible.
The funny thing though is that none of it would have worked nearly as well if he didn't have his crowd of watchers. By the end everyone was openly laughing and jeering at him and cheering me on, meanwhile he was crying his eyes out and neither of us had landed a single hit to the body.

Eventually the siren went and we all had to be at our various classes. People dispersed. My faithless friends came back to me and congratulated me- I was just happy to have gotten out of that without being seriously hurt, no thanks to them.
The Scottish guy only had his British friend for support at the end. He was still crying and humiliated when he left for his classes.

In the days after that guy could never make eye contact with me. I would rather have been his friend than his enemy… But that's how things turn out. He was looking to make a good impression with the people in his year and ended up branding himself forever as a fool in their eyes. Which was probably a good thing, it cut short his bully career.

wow, you guys do indeed have amazing stories. I however, in my short time on this planet, have yet to achieve anything quite as awesome.

——————————————————————————

But I shall tell you the tale of how I nearly died because I was full-hardy enough to beileve I was invincible against a horse, if you like.

When I was six, my mum bought a new horse whom she called Ethan. Now, Ethan was still a foal, despite his size, and was deathly afraid of the colour white (or should I say shade… because white isn't a colour….)

Anywho, I, being the adventerous six year old that I was, didn't care much for rules, so when mother told me sternly, “Don't go into the paddock with the new Horse, he'll mess you up,” I didn't take heed. I went to the shed, got the cleanest, whitest bucket I could find which also happened to be roughly my height. After sitting in the backyards toiling away for hours rpiping up grass by its roots, I finally had a bucket full of grass and my six year old brain thought “Grass + Horse = Good times.” I climbed over the fence into Ethan's paddock, waving my bucket around screaming things like: “EEETHHHAAANNNN!!!! HOOORRESSSSEEEYYY!!! EETHHHAANNNNN!!!”

Ethan thoroughly believed that I was obviously some kind of demon from the deepest pits of hell, summoned to take him away and torture him in cruel and unusual ways, and promptly freaked out. He began trotting around the paddock frantically snorting and nickering like a madman, and I began running after him, waving my bucket, still crying: “ETHAN I HAVE GRASS FOR YOOUUUU!!”

Now, the next bit I don't quite remember.

I got close enough to Ethan. We exchanged glances, and then all of a sudden, I was on my back, a bucket flying through the air behind me, and Ethan galloping away into the distance. It turned out that I had been kicked squarely in my soft, unprotected chest, and thrown backwards. However, I was obviously the Chuck Norris of Six year olds and no simple earth horse could destroy me, because I got up, picked up my bucket, and continued to run after my horse.

He was going to eat that grass, and he was going to bloody well enjoy it.

I began feeling sick half way through this chase, and mum came out when she heard the commotion. She took me to the doctors straight away, while I continued to say that I was immortal and nothing could kill me. The Doctor said “Ma'am, your daughter is an idiot” though in a nicer and more eleoquent way, and that is the most daring story I have to this date.

Ok… I have committed alot of mischief when I was younger. I know they're stupid and borderline evil but… it required an amount of being daring I must say.

______________________


1) I clogged all the toilets in one bathroom. Flushed down entire rolls of toilet paper down each toilet.

2) Then in another bathroom I took one roll of toilet paper then I threw it out the window. It got caught by tree branches. So outside the building it looked like a banner.

3) Then in yet another bathroom, I wet toilet paper and threw it up in the ceiling. KER-SPLATT!!! Sometimes one roll at a time. Sometimes just 1 piece at a time then wet then throw up in the ceiling. Until it looked like the moon and the stars. Unless you wanna call that art.

4) Drawing penis and/or vagina with colored chalk… on the back of the bathroom stall doors. One time I did it in the bathroom where the pre-school kids go to. Too early for sex-ed, eh. :)

5) Using soap to draw swastikas , hammer+sickles, cusswords, and gang symbols (the triskelion and various greek letter combinations seems to be a favorite among Filipino gangsters) on the bathroom mirror. Just to piss people off.

6) Throwing stuff at people who are taking a crap. I just threw whatever I can in there. Toilet paper rolls, mops, brooms, (the bigger the better) brushes, bar of soap, empty pails, dirty rags, and one time I threw a pop can in there.

7) Going into empty classrooms and drawing huge penis on the blackboard. That or scribbling death threats or chain cusswords at certain people. One time I got an entire classroom suspended for that. Because the teacher got pissed and nobody in that class admitted it.

8) Pissing or spitting or putting trash into… people's water jugs or school bags.

9) Making stuff disappear and putting them in other people's things… causing many a fistfight.

10) And the “crowning glory” of it all… getting a guy and girl to break up by sending “stalker” type emails that read something like “I know you were in ___ place wearing ___ clothes. You walked into my teritorry. If I see you there again youre gonna get it. And oh, stay away from ______. She's my girl.”


These are what I remember. Never got caught. Oh… I actually got caught by a teacher one time after I draw penis on the back of the bathroom stall with a red marker pen. He saw me walk out the bathroom but didnt see me in the act of doing it. I was very scared. I was sat in the principal's office. The principal was really intimidating. He could be a military interrogator.

I barely got away. I done a good job at lying. But man… I learned my lesson.

@Ozone - Are you an NLP (Neuro-Linguistic-Programming) master by any chance? That was AMAZING!!!

@Onlyfoolsandvikings - I wouldnt have the guts to do that. *bawk bawk bawk BAKEK!!!*

@kyupol: fun stuff! *apparently you spent a great deal of time in the bathroom*

@OnlyFoolsAndVikings: OMG! you totally have me beat. only a fool, a viking, or a 6-year old would go up against an unbroken horse.

@Oz: if you didn't see the earlier edit, thanks for sharing that fantastic story! I kinda think that many “daring” acts are committed by individuals who, at the time, think they only have one recourse, and so they go for it.

Now looking for a good bear story (I was within about 20 feet of a wild black bear once. I ran away. It's what I do.)

Things I have never done, their stories you tell.


I am completely “undaring”.

Or adventurous.

Or interesting.

I Am The 1337 Master
I am completely “undaring”.

Or adventurous.

Or interesting.

such a poopy.

unless you don't want to be. Man - you SING IN FRONT OF PEOPLE. That's nightmare time for a lot of people.

someone
many “daring” acts are committed by individuals who, at the time, think they only have one recourse, and so they go for it.

maybe you're just lucky and haven't found “only one recourse”

ayesinback
such a poopy.

unless you don't want to be. Man - you SING IN FRONT OF PEOPLE. That's nightmare time for a lot of people.

someone
many “daring” acts are committed by individuals who, at the time, think they only have one recourse, and so they go for it.

maybe you're just lucky and haven't found “only one recourse”

I suppose.

Here's something daring. I talked to a satanic super soldier and lived to tell the tale.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p_RDqpRJXCY

Someone
OMG! you totally have me beat. only a fool, a viking, or a 6-year old would go up against an unbroken horse.

And luckily or unluckily, I'm all three bro.

Someone
I wouldnt have the guts to do that. *bawk bawk bawk BAKEK!!!*

Is that a challenge my friend?! *rolls up sleeves*

Is that a challenge my friend?! *rolls up sleeves*

Find a satanic super soldier/s then interview him/her/them and post it up on the internet. :)

kyupol

Is that a challenge my friend?! *rolls up sleeves*

Find a satanic super soldier/s then interview him/her/them and post it up on the internet. :)

JK I don't know how I'd even begin to do that.

OnlyFoolsAndVikings

kyupol

Is that a challenge my friend?! *rolls up sleeves*

Find a satanic super soldier/s then interview him/her/them and post it up on the internet. :)

JK I don't know how I'd even begin to do that.

It'd be like trying to interview a unicorn in city of Erewhon in the land of Neverwhere. A complete fantasy.

Does facing down a firey redhead in the midst of a manic episode who was trying to kill me count?
How about standing up for a black man accused of racism in Kentucky?
Standing up to the company commander over why issued rations weren't being distributed?
Convincing delusional schizophrenics that there is nothing to worry about and to go back to bed?
Public speaking?

There are times when something has to be done. The infamous foolish and futile gesture that could change an intolerable situation.

Various medal winning heroes were sick and tired of a situation, saw no one else was doing anything and did what they did so it could end.

bravo1102
Does…?

Pish Tosh!
Pick one and give us a story!

ozoneocean

bravo1102
Does…?

Pish Tosh!
Pick one and give us a story!

I've never done anything brave or daring, just what needed to be done at the time.

Been through any situations that are life threatening or involve the threat of certain injury? Use skill, cunning, or luck to get out of it?

I'm sure you have! Tell us :)

ayesinback
Now looking for a good bear story (I was within about 20 feet of a wild black bear once. I ran away. It's what I do.)

Well, I don't have any good bear stories about myself, but my dog chased one away once.

We were out at the lake and a black bear came lumbering out of the woods. Buddy just sat and watched it intently, leaving it alone…until he noticed my little sister and her friend coming up the hill towards our cabin(and the bear). Then he chased that scary ol bear right off.

The funny thing is that he lets the cats play all over him, as well as my sister when she was younger…he's just about the gentlest dog in the world until he thinks one of us is in danger. : )

Edit: I was watching this through the cabin window, by the way.
—

Ah, and I just thought of a daring story about myself!
I saved my little sister from a goat once, when I was young. I don't really remember what happened there…I'll have to ask my dad.

I used to climb trees and up the sides of rocky hills. I'd still do it now but England is flat and I'm fat. Maybe next time I go to Wales? I dunno.
There was one time when I climbed twice the height of our house. Getting down is where i have problems. Once tried abseiling when I was 12 and couldn't do it on the sheer drop so I only had a go on the steep hill.
Didn't stop me when I was 15 and went to a rock climbing centre in Glasgow. It was a converted church and I would have gone back again if I could afford it.
But I didn't get to use my own shoes so my feet killed for days.

As for other daring stuff, my sister and I used to come home from our aunt's house by riding our scooters down the mile-long hill between them.
Lets just say you really had to stamp on the brakes a good few seconds before reaching the kerb or you'd fly right off.

I put bulbasaur stickers on mine. Called it the Bulba Blaster. Ended up being left out in the rain behind the bin where I couldn't get it too many times and rusted. My parents wouldn't let me get another one even when I was 17 and saw one on sale for £1. Said I was too old even though I still see people older than me using them.

Screw the rules I have red hair and a birthday coming up!
THEN I WILL RESUME MY DOWNHILL DEATHRACES OF AWESOME!!!

Someone
I put bulbasaur stickers on mine. Called it the Bulba Blaster

I… I cannot comprehend the awesomness of such an object! D:

Doesn't sound so cool in Scoutish. Which I find myself talking more and more in these days. But I guess its better than what my sister called hers. “Pika Power”. Can't even say that one.

You had to be careful with less smooth terrain on them. They had no suspension and the wheels were rock solid so you had to know when to jump and land on your feet to stop yourself from faceplanting. Kinda hard to do when you're clocking between 15 and 20mph on a thin, wheeled chunk of metal but then usually the footplate would swing around and smack you in the shin side-on at slower speeds or if you walked with it.
I don't think we had Razor brand ones. I'll have to confirm it but it was a very similar design to the early ones like you see on Wikipedia.

There were kids that had petrol powered ones even though you had to be old enough to drive to legally use one and these kids were usually thirteen.

I was content with what I had, though, despite the near broken legs and transtibial amputations. Was pissed off when my parents didn't tell me when they were throwing it out and why. I ended up being told three years after it happened.

If by daring you mean wildly embarrassing, then yes, I do have a story coming to mind!

There was a short, black fellow named James (or Jason…I'm not actually remembering it now) that was in the same group of friends as me in high school, though I never knew him well. James (Jason, Jacob…) was extremely homophobic, and very theatrical with his fear. The guys in our group would pinch his butt and blow him kisses, just for the crazy reactions. It never really got old.

When we graduated he went into the navy, which made my best friend Brian very sad (they were close). Me and Brian and our friend Michelle were hanging out one evening when Brian announced that James was back in town for a short while and wouldn't it be such a great idea to go surprise him?

It was already dark outside, but thankfully his house was only a few blocks from the bus stop. We rounded a corner and saw a minivan parked at the curb near his house, with James climbing into the side of it.

Without consulting us, Brian runs ahead, sneaks up to James and pinches his butt whilst saying (in his deepest man-voice), “Hey there, cutie.”


Only this kid turns around and he's not James. He's looks ten years old maybe? His family was in the car. Brian blushed about twenty shades of mortified and we all ran away screaming that we weren't pedophiles. The kids grandpa jumped out of the car and chased us around the corner.

I really thought one of us was going to jail over that one…

Okay, my husband read through this thread and asked “Why don't you share that one you pulled on me?”, so here it is:

My husband's father lived out of state at the time, but he was planning on flying in for our wedding. I thought, “What a great opportunity to show my fiancee just what he's getting into!”

So I steal my (soon to be) father-in-law's phone number and give him a ring. He was excited about my idea. The plan was officially in motion. The week before the wedding, my parents call my fiancee and say that they want to have a sit down dinner with us. My fiancee agrees and takes the night off of work. My parents tell him to “dress nice”.

A little while later, my father-in-law gives my fiancee a call with some bad news. He's been in a car accident on the way to the airport and he's totalled his car. Yes, yes, everyone is fine. But now he has no way of getting to the airport on time and doesn't know if he'll even make it out for our wedding.

My husband was a wreck. Stressed about his dad, he called me. I feigned concern, but it was kind of hard because I was picking up his dad from the airport at that exact moment.


Later that night we are getting dressed for our fancy dinner and my fiancee is a mess. “What do your parents want to talk about?”. “Are they mad at me?”. “Is something going to happen?”. I sure got my jollies off of seeing him so scatterbrained.

That night rolls around and we show up for dinner and my fiancee was so stressed about the conversation with my parents that he doesn't even notice our table is set for six, not four people.

Did I forget to mention the restaurant staff were in on it too? It was a high end establishment that we'd had to make a reservation at, but more importantly - the waiting staff wore suits.

We get our menus, and here comes my father-in-law dressed up as our waitor. Only my husband is so stressed out that he doesn't even notice the fact that the entire restaurant is watching him or the fact that the waitor is his dad.

My father-in-law takes it in stride and actually takes our orders. I'm containing so much laughter that I'm actually crying at this point. When our appetizers came out, my father-in-law sits down at the table with them and starts eating without a “by your leave”.

My husband stared and there was this long pause where everyone got silent again. My husband started crying and laughing and swore up and down that he'd get revenge on all of us*.

True story.

*(For “revenge”, my husband decided to go streaking at our wedding a week later. Thankfully, he didn't have the forethought to film his prank.)

@Ally: I Love it!

I'm still saving the story I like most, but I can tell you the first time I “took it upon myself”

I was 6, and even though a fellow kindergartener relieved me of the fantasy known as Santa Claus a year before, I, for whatever reason, clung on to the tooth fairy.

My parents told me the whole deal about the tooth fairy: when your tooth comes out, put it under your pillow and the tooth fairy comes and exchanges it for a nice new quarter (don't know what the exchange rates are today).

So this is between me and the fairy, right? I do my part, and wake up expecting my quarter, and there's the stupid tooth. This happened for a couple of nights and I got fed up. So I wrote my first complaint letter, stuck it under the pillow with the tooth, and then griped about the whole ordeal to my Mom at breakfast.

Well, apparently those complaint letters work. The next morning, there was my quarter.

My parents claim they still have my complaint letter.

@Ayesinback

Ahahha! You sent a complaint letter? That's bloody brilliant! I demand you upload a photo of this original letter so that the world may bask in its hilarity.

ah the tooth fairy… i have a story about that… but later! now is for the icecream truck holdup.

this is back when i was still in fourth grade nearing summer. it had been warm for a full month and summer was soon upon us so came the yearly migration of the icecream truck. with the tinny sounds of unliseanced tunes you could hear it coming from blocks away, the sound drifting in the warm air. my little brother and i heard such sounds and remarked on our good fortune. when the truck came into view we hailed it to the side of the road- i had already gotten my money to pay for our delicious cold icecreamy treats, i even offered to pay for my brothers, so we were set. or so i thought.

it was then i realized the great flaw. the mother. the mother liked knowing things, and as such you'd have to ask the mother for her okay. she wasn't an unreasonible person and she liked to make us happy but she had rules. and you'd best follow them. i told my brother to quickly go inside and ask the mother for the okay. i was certain that this wouldn't be a problem as we weren't terribly close to dinner time and it'd just be one icecream treat per child (because i wasn't made of money gosh darn it) and so it began.

after the first 5 minutes the icecream truckman began to get antsy. he expressed his concern about my brothers disappearance and i reassured him that my brother was horrible at finding things and probably was in the house just yelling ‘mom’ instead of actively looking. another 5 minutes later he claimed to be needing to get going. i didn't believe him and shot him a look of pure ‘the hell you are’. such a look coming from a 9 year old was daunting and unnerving so he waited an extra five minutes before attempting to move from the back of the truck to the front but i was faster and far more stubborn. i stood right in front of his truck leaning on his hood. the only direction left to go was back- into a busy intersection. i had him completely cornered and he knew it.

i wanted my icecream but wasn't prepared to get in trouble with my mother over this so after an addintional 15 minutes i finally decided to go inside and ask her myself. i knew this meant that the icecream truck might leave but at this point i needed to know. i rushed inside searched high and low and found her in the basement with my brother who was playing videogames.

“well can we?!” i asked franticlly.

“what?” she responsed in confusion. her confusion seemed reasonible, i need to carify.

“can we get icecream?!”

“oh, no. it's getting to close to dinner.” it was here that i realized that this was never mentioned. she hadn't known…

“could we have had icecream, say, 30 minutes ago?” i asked narrowing my eyes

“yes?” she was confused by my responses to her question- i was clearly getting upset over something that normally just be a quick sigh and frown.

"BROTHER“

my brother paused his game in response, unsure why i just called him in such tones.

”what's going on?“ my mom asked, she didn't appreciate me yelling at my disabled brother just because i wasn't getting icecream.

”I SENT HIM IN HERE TO ASK YOU ABOUT THE ICECREAM. I JUST HELD UP AN ICECREAM TRUCK FOR, LIKE, 30 MINUTES FOR NO GOOD REASON!"

at this my brother looked sheepishly around, in the ‘oh right, i was suppose to do that’ fashion, my mother sighed and said well, nothing to be done (though she was rather amused by all this), and i demanded he stop playing videogames and get ready for dinner because if there was no icecream there will be no games.

when i went to check the icecream truck to apologize for the hold up he had, of course, speed off already. not a single icecream truck drove past my house (either side, i was on a busy corner so this was actually a feat) for over 5 years after that. who knows what lengends of the feirce 9 year old on c.street have come to be in the icecream truck world in my corner of new jersey