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Author name (Administrator) #1
Member since May 2011 · 2485 posts · Location: Brisbane
Group memberships: Administrators, Members
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Subject: My memory's short, my friends were assholes.
I just remembered a couple of stories from my teenage years...

A friend of mine named Dean came from one of those rough-n-tumble homes, living out of town in a shack with a mom who was suspiciously quiet and a father who was always mean.  He works out one day that the back room at the Subway where I worked used a bathroom-style lock on the door, and he could let himself into the back room with a straw.  In the back was a safe, with a rotating drum on top so staff could plop plastic bags of money into the drum, crank the handle and drop it into the safe.

And my friend worked out that a coat hanger could be used to go down the side of the drum, hook a bag of money, and rotate the loot back out of the safe.

He cost me my job and $400.  Colour me unimpressed.

A few years later I got over it, and found $120 missing from my bedroom the first time he came to my house. 

I didn't get over that one.

Then there was my friend Glen.  We had a fun time in high school, he was on my BBS writing the most filthy, violent stories about shooting up schoolyards long before such things started actually happening, and I thought he was just creative nad a little bit of a weirdo.  Good fun.

One day at my place there's a few of us watching movies, and playing video games.  He was in my room playing games, and when his turn was up he came to the living room and I went to try and beat his score.  I reached for the joystick, and when I picked it up by the knob only the knob came off the floor.  The joystick had cracked in half, and was now definitely broken.

My friend denied it, says it worked fine when he put it down, and it must have been coincidence that it broke as i picked it up.


Years later, he's my roommate, and his cat (HIS cat) is pregnant.  It gives birth on my chair.  MY chair.  The chair was ruined, soaked through with blood and other gooey things, and he wouldn't pay for it.  He maintained that it was his cat, but the blood belonged to the new kittens, and they were all spoken for and had new owners.  Therefore the responsibility was not his, and he would neither pay for it nor attempt to clean it.

I moved my ass out a week later, and never talked to him again.  I found out from a friend he was an au paire down in the US after that, but had gotten fired for downloading childporn. 

While taking care of children.

Not long ago I looked up his name on the internet.  He's a photographer, it seems, specializing in children.

It really puts his violent schoolyard porn in a whole new perspective.
Author name #2
User title: Kitten Blaster
Member since Feb 2010 · 89 posts
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you really know how to pick winners. ;-)
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