Quote:
Originally Posted by EternalEnigma21
Joe if that's true that's hilarious.
I'm on a blackberry so forgive the typing. This one is not for the squeamish!!!
When I was around 17 my gf's parents went out of town for the weekend so I was with her at her house. It was friday night and we had the couchbed out watching movies and getting kinky, all the stuff you do when you're a sexually active 17 year old. I jumped from the bed to go out and smoke a j (she didn't smoke) and when I landed on a piled up blanket, it crunched and squirmed under my foot. Did I mention she had gotten the cutest grey and white kitten that week? Little guy just fit right in the palm of your hand and loved to play. Especially with blankets. To my horror the cat was quietly writhing on the floor bleeding from its ear. It was suffering in the throes of death, while my oblivious gf was naked on the bed in a sex daze. She was just sitting there glowing up at me.
I kicked the cat over to the door and dressed quickly but without alarm. I went to the garage and (ill spare you the details) but basically pulled a dwight schrute mercy killing with a monkey wrench. Then, I waited by the road for a passing truck (were in tx so it wasn't a long wait) and lobbed the carcass into the bed.
She didn't notice until the next morning, and we spent hours looking for her lost cat. I preferred to console over a runaway so that she had hope, rather than reveal the gruesome conclusive truth to her. Never told her. I told my wife about it but that's it. Sorry amy!
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Oh... my... God.
Here in the Warpath Confession thread, let it be known that there will be no judgment (except on anyone who has kissed Earthquake
). So I will pass none. That's a doozy of a confession, though!
When I was 19 I was living at home during the summers between college semesters. One night I was all wasted, stumbling back from a buddy's party a few blocks away at 3:00 am. My walk back to my house took me through some pretty nice neighborhoods. For no apparent reason, I got the urge to throw a giant rock through the winshield of some poor guy's Lexus ES.
So I did, and I ran like hell. I was way too fast at that age for anyone to have time to jump out of bed and look out the window. I was gone before anyone in the neighborhood had even gotten out of bed. Got back to the house, stumbled up to bed, and passed out. Woke up the next morning, took the dog for a walk back towards the scene of the crime. I saw my handywork and chuckled.
Now that I work for a living and am no longer a college brat, I can appreciate the work that goes into owning a car. Ya know, you gotta earn a paycheck, take care of the car, etcetera. Appreciating that stuff makes me realize now what a dick move that was.
I'll chalk it up to youthful indiscretion.