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Yul Lose

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What’s the worst thing you did as a kid that got you into the most trouble with your parents? I’ll start.

 

We were living in Minatare, Nebraska and I was 12 years old, and it was right around the 4th of July in 1966. We lived next door to a family that had 4-5 blond headed daughters and I was doing everything that I could think of to gain their attention. Right across the fence from our back yard was their backyard and a clothes line. Not many families had clothes driers in the house so they hung their wash on the line to dry. I tossed a lit Black Cat firecracker over the fence and it went off in one of the bed sheets or pillow cases and started on fire. The laundry was obviously pretty dry because it didn’t take long for all of the sheets and pillow cases and nearly everything else on the clothesline to catch on fire. I was frozen in place and my older sister jumped into action with a garden hose and finally got the fire put out with the help of some of those blond girls. Needless to say when mom got home from work I got my ass beat and then got it again when dad got home. I ended up not getting my 50 cent a week allowance for a couple of years to help pay for the laundry that I destroyed. Those girls didn’t talk to me much after that.

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Hit a city bus with a water balloon and cause a cycle to lay it down behind the bus.  Disappeared for a while, didn't get in trouble.  I think one or two friends hit it also

 

Brother and I had a rock battle with the neighbor girl and her brother.  I got her pretty good above the eye, stitches if I remember correctly.  Parents couldn't find me for many hours.  By the time they found me I was in more trouble for hiding than hitting her.  

 

Oh so many more...

 

Never played in the quarry, the older boys said the guards shot you with rock salt.  Even then I knew the lawyers wouldn't allow that but it seemed some boys believed it.  Dad swam and fished in it when he was a kid.

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I seem to have got into a lot of trouble throwing things.  9th or 10th grade on HS grounds, snowball throwing was forbidden.  Someone threw one at me during a recess period or maybe a fire drill.  I returned fire and caught the School Superintendent square in the back of the head.  Can't recall the punishment, but it couldn't have been much. He and his wife were friends of my parents, so I suspect I got off easy.  

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I was a pretty ornery kid. So was my brother and our friends. 
 

We used to go to the phone company parking lot and swipe the wooden cable reels to play with. We all learned how to walk in them and make them roll like they do in the circus. We always took the small ones. One day I wanted to take a big one. I talked my friends into it. We snagged one that was HUGE! The sides were about 6’ across. It took several of us to tip it up to roll. I was 8 years old. I was probably 4’ tall. The wire reel was big and heavy. 
The plan was I would be on the spool making it roll and my brother and my friends would grab the sides to slow that side down to help steer it. Things were going well and I was king of the world. We made it about 2 blocks to the top of the hill on Rich Hill street. It’s called that because it’s on a hill, obviously. 
Anyway, as we came to the downhill portion of the journey the spool started speeding up. My brother and my friends couldn’t slow it. Here’s me on top literally running backwards as the spool went foreword. I am yelling to stop it they yelled back from behind me, up the street. I was on my own for another 2 or 3 seconds and then whump! My ass hit the road and that big spool was freewheeling down Rich Hill Street. 
I sat in the road and watched as it went about a block and a half and blasted broad side into a brand new Plymouth Valiant. 
It was glorious…for just a moment and the reality set in. 
I jumped up and looked around. My brother and my friends were gone!

People are coming out of their houses to see what that big noise was. I beat feet home. 
My brother was quietly freaking out. I tried to play the nonchalant Joe Cool.

The next morning at breakfast my Dad was reading the story aloud about how a phone company wire spool miraculously crashed into a brand new car totaling it out. The last line of the story was “Several children were seen playing with a large wooden spool shortly before the accident”

My Dad laid the paper down and told my Mom “If our kids did something like this I would beat their (blank) so bad they wouldn’t sit for the rest of the summer.”

I said “Yeah, that’s pretty bad.”

My brother kicked me under the table. 
 

Holy Crap was that fun!

 


 

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No statute of limitations in Canada, so I ain't talkin'

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13 minutes ago, Injun Ryder, SASS #36201L said:

When I run for public office, I'm sure all of the details will come forth! Until then :ph34r:.

If I ran for office they would think all the stuff they discover couldn’t possibly be true. There’s so much, but I never ended up in court. ;)

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Used to push over the portable toilets at the new housing tracts that were being built back mid the 50"s. 

 

Also got caught throwing oranges from an orange grove at cars on the road. We made the mistake of hitting a Highway Patrol car. Got a ticket and my Dad had to take me to court, he was pissed because he had to take a day off work.

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Not the most trouble, but the one that bothers me to this very day:

When I was very young, maybe 10, I did overnight with Granddad.
The kid on the other end of the (very long) avenue was sleeping out, so I decided to go all that way and join him in the middle of the night.

My granddad awoke (probably to pee) and found me gone.
He remembered about the sleep out, and around 3am he and a cop showed up there.
They hauled me in front of the desk sergeant who read me the riot act, then my parents showed up.

I never got my butt whipped for that, but I remember it to this day.
I'm taking my 7 year old grandson to Mardi Gras in 2024, and will be watching him like a hawk... or a guilty grampa.

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When I was 15 I got caught stealing cigarettes from a grocery store. Not just a pack, a carton. The manager was pretty sure this wasn’t the first time. He was right, but I didn’t tell him. The store manager gave me an ultimatum. Paint the rear wall of the store or he would call the police and tell my parents. I asked when he wanted the wall painted. He said he would supply the paint and the tools and I could work at my own pace. I took the offer. 
Problem was, when I wasn’t in school I was working for my Dad. I was either refinishing furniture or going with him to a job. He was a general contractor. I had no idea how I was going to do this painting without him knowing, plus we lived right down the street from the store. 
The next day I told my buddies at school about it. My friend Brent had a plan. He would steal me a Saturday Detention Slip and fill it out. I would take it home and give it to my parents. They would think I was at school on Saturday on all day detention 7:30-3:30 and I could knock out my paint job. 
My old man was ticked off at me for getting detention for “mouthing off to my home room teacher”. He said he was going to call the school but I told him they would just swap it out with 5 nights of detention after school for 2 1/2 hours. He bought it. :D

Saturday at 7:30 I went into the back of the store and got my tools and paint and got to work. I started brushing and scraping.
Around 09:00 my friends Brent and Chuck showed up to help. I had some good friends back then. 
By around 1:30 the job was done. I had paint all over me. I went over to Chucks and took a shower. He loaned me some clothes to wear home and I wore my jacket so my Mom wouldn’t notice the “new” tee shirt.

In the end, I pulled it off. I never stole another pack or carton of cigarettes again. ;)

 

 

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33 minutes ago, Pat Riot said:

When I was 15 I got caught stealing cigarettes from a grocery store. Not just a pack, a carton. The manager was pretty sure this wasn’t the first time. He was right, but I didn’t tell him. The store manager gave me an ultimatum. Paint the rear wall of the store or he would call the police and tell my parents. I asked when he wanted the wall painted. He said he would supply the paint and the tools and I could work at my own pace. I took the offer. 
Problem was, when I wasn’t in school I was working for my Dad. I was either refinishing furniture or going with him to a job. He was a general contractor. I had no idea how I was going to do this painting without him knowing, plus we lived right down the street from the store. 
The next day I told my buddies at school about it. My friend Brent had a plan. He would steal me a Saturday Detention Slip and fill it out. I would take it home and give it to my parents. They would think I was at school on Saturday on all day detention 7:30-3:30 and I could knock out my paint job. 
My old man was ticked off at me for getting detention for “mouthing off to my home room teacher”. He said he was going to call the school but I told him they would just swap it out with 5 nights of detention after school for 2 1/2 hours. He bought it. :D

Saturday at 7:30 I went into the back of the store and got my tools and paint and got to work. I started brushing and scraping.
Around 09:00 my friends Brent and Chuck showed up to help. I had some good friends back then. 
By around 1:30 the job was done. I had paint all over me. I went over to Chucks and took a shower. He loaned me some clothes to wear home and I wore my jacket so my Mom wouldn’t notice the “new” tee shirt.

In the end, I pulled it off. I never stole another pack or carton of cigarettes again. ;)

 

 

Boy does that story bring back memories!:blush::lol::ph34r:

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Alright, I'll let one go. I'm sure the statute of limitations has run out by now.

 

I was about 10 years old when me and about 4 or 5 neighborhood kids decided to build an underground fort in a vacant field that was about the size of a football field. The goal was to build a rival fort to some kids from across the RR tracks tree fort. 

 

We dug a hole about 4' deep by about 10' round and spread the sand out across the field so that no one would notice the hole from the sides. We then requestioned (stole) some plywood and scrap 2 x 4's from a nearby house that was being built to cover the hole. Then we took some of the sand, covered the plywood with it and "planted" some of the tall grass from the field in the sand. It was actually pretty good construction for a group of 9 and 10 year olds. Looking at it from a distance of 20' away, you could hardly notice it after about a week.

 

One day soon after completion of the fort, during a particularly dry month, we thought it would be a great idea to play with fire in the dry field. We'd light a patch of dry grass, watch it burn a small circle and then stomp it out. We did this 3 or 4 times, letting the circle get bigger each time, with good success in stomping out the fire...until it didn't The last time we did it, the fire grew too big and despite our furious stomping...it got out of control and the damn field was on fire. We did what any kids would have done - we hauled ass to one of the kid's house that abutted the field and watched through the fence at the growing fire.

 

A person on the far side of the field came out into his back yard and tried to reach it with a hose but he was way short of reaching the fire. Then we heard the siren of the firetruck. The firetruck drove over the curb of the main road and drove toward the fire. We thought, great, we've been saved! Wait a minute, he's driving toward our fort...you guessed it...he drove right into the fort with both front tires and entire front end. Now, we really hauled ass, each of us to our individual houses. 

 

I was inside maybe 3 minutes when the phone rang in the kitchen. It was my mother's friend telling her about the fire in the field. My mother was a pretty nosy person so she said she was going to go see what was happening, I tagged along playing innocent (of course). We walked the 1 block over to the side of the field. I could tell that the fire was almost out by the white colored smoke that was visible above the houses closest to the field.

 

When we got there, there was the firetruck in the hole...only now it was accompanied by 3 cop cars, another firetruck, two wreckers, a newspaper reporter with camera for the Clearwater Sun (defunct now for 40 mol) and a bunch more neighbors from both sides of the field. We watched as they finished putting out the hot spots and began wrapping up the hoses. We watched the two wreckers pull the firetruck out of the hole and it took some effort to do it. The only damage, it seemed, was the burnt grass in the field.

 

The firetruck started up and drove away. Then the cops looked around at the hole and they drove away. We read all about it in the paper the next day. I never got questioned about it and sure as hell didn't admit to it. None of us ever got into trouble for it and as far as I know, no one innocent ever got accused of it.

 

I NEVER played with fire again...ever. 

 

 

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I hit the trifecta one day in second grade, I believe, still in Minatare, Ne. A kid in my class Frankie Weiss and I were goofing around in class while the teacher stepped outside for a smoke or bathroom break, anyway we were wrestling and I took a swing at him and he ducked and I punched a young lady, Jackie Meyers right in the face shattering her glasses. Well she was screaming bloody murder when the teacher came back in and I remember the teacher grabbing one of my ears in one hand and with the other she grabbed Frankie’s ear and took us down to the principals office. Back in those days the principal had a well worn wooden paddle and he liked to use it. He spanked us both and sent us home. My 2 sisters were always quick to report on my misdeeds at school and when I got home I got spanked again by mom and of course she had to tell me “wait til your father gets home”!!! Yep I got it again, thus the trifecta, and my 25 cent a week allowance disappeared for about 6 months to buy new glasses for Jackie. Frankie had to pay his share too but his folks were way better off than mine and his allowance paid his part much sooner.

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20 minutes ago, Cypress Sun said:

Alright, I'll let one go. I'm sure the statute of limitations has run out by now.

 

I was about 10 years old when me and about 4 or 5 neighborhood kids decided to build an underground fort in a vacant field that was about the size of a football field. The goal was to build a rival fort to some kids from across the RR tracks tree fort. 

 

We dug a hole about 4' deep by about 10' round and spread the sand out across the field so that no one would notice the hole from the sides. We then requestioned (stole) some plywood and scrap 2 x 4's from a nearby house that was being built to cover the hole. Then we took some of the sand, covered the plywood with it and "planted" some of the tall grass from the field in the sand. It was actually pretty good construction for a group of 9 and 10 year olds. Looking at it from a distance of 20' away, you could hardly notice it after about a week.

 

One day soon after completion of the fort, during a particularly dry month, we thought it would be a great idea to play with fire in the dry field. We'd light a patch of dry grass, watch it burn a small circle and then stomp it out. We did this 3 or 4 times, letting the circle get bigger each time, with good success in stomping out the fire...until it didn't The last time we did it, the fire grew too big and despite our furious stomping...it got out of control and the damn field was on fire. We did what any kids would have done - we hauled ass to one of the kid's house that abutted the field and watched through the fence at the growing fire.

 

A person on the far side of the field came out into his back yard and tried to reach it with a hose but he was way short of reaching the fire. Then we heard the siren of the firetruck. The firetruck drove over the curb of the main road and drove toward the fire. We thought, great, we've been saved! Wait a minute, he's driving toward our fort...you guessed it...he drove right into the fort with both front tires and entire front end. Now, we really hauled ass, each of us to our individual houses. 

 

I was inside maybe 3 minutes when the phone rang in the kitchen. It was my mother's friend telling her about the fire in the field. My mother was a pretty nosy person so she said she was going to go see what was happening, I tagged along playing innocent (of course). We walked the 1 block over to the side of the field. I could tell that the fire was almost out by the white colored smoke that was visible above the houses closest to the field.

 

When we got there, there was the firetruck in the hole...only now it was accompanied by 3 cop cars, another firetruck, two wreckers, a newspaper reporter with camera for the Clearwater Sun (defunct now for 40 mol) and a bunch more neighbors from both sides of the field. We watched as they finished putting out the hot spots and began wrapping up the hoses. We watched the two wreckers pull the firetruck out of the hole and it took some effort to do it. The only damage, it seemed, was the burnt grass in the field.

 

The firetruck started up and drove away. Then the cops looked around at the hole and they drove away. We read all about it in the paper the next day. I never got questioned about it and sure as hell didn't admit to it. None of us ever got into trouble for it and as far as I know, no one innocent ever got accused of it.

 

I NEVER played with fire again...ever. 

 

 

Our underground fort was in the woods quite a ways from the houses. But wow, do oak leaves and pine needles burn! We all went home after we bailed and watched the debris and smoke falling on the neighborhood. I wonder to this day, and as in your case, how come our parents didn't notice that we stunk of smoke and our sneakers were black!!

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@Cypress Sun me and my two brothers caught a field on fire playing with matches with some neighborhood kids. We were at “the tree house” in this field. We had a roll of toilet paper and we lit the end and I was unrolling it trying to keep the fire going without it touching the ground. All of a sudden there were a bunch of little fires all around us. The toilet paper ash was getting blown away as the TP burned. Sparks caught the field on fire. 
We all took off for home. 
A short time later the firemen arrived and put out the fire. 
Shortly after that the Fire Chief was at our house questioning us. We were in the front yard playing with our toy trucks and cars. 
My Mom came outside and lit into that Fire Chief because “My boys are good boys. They have been out here playing the whole time. You get in out of here…go talk to those “Smiths” (not real names) down the street. Those kids are a menace!” (Our friends. They did bring the matches though)

The Chief left and that was that. 
I was 7. My brothers were 5&6. 
 

We did not stop playing with fire. We just got smarter about it. ;) We always had a bucket of water around after that. 

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We were living in Creede, Colorado and I was 13-14 and had an after school paper route. Creede is about 8,800 foot elevation and it snows a bunch in the winter. In the warmer months I rode my bicycle to deliver the papers but when it was snowy, cold and slick I walked the route. Every Wednesday, if I remember correctly there were advertising stuffers that you had to put in the middle of each paper before you rolled them up and rubber banded them and put them in the paper bag.  This advertiser stuffer took time and added to the weight and size of the papers. We lived in a trailer park in Creede just across the creek from the downtown area and there was a cement and rock lined creek that ran through town. In the winter the snow and ice would build up and cover the creek, it would still run but would be covered in most places. I knew where the open spots in the snow and ice were so I would take the bundles of advertising stuffers and throw them in the creek, not realizing that come spring when everything thawed out those bundles would be discovered. 
 

On the south end of town the cement lined creek, Willow Creek emptied into some slower moving pools and water before it emptied into the Rio Grande river. One evening in the spring the town Marshall, Tommy Phillips, who drove around in a black Chevrolet Corvair, came knocking at our door while we were eating dinner. He invited me to take a ride with him and we drove down to the tailing ponds as they were called and he pointed out the Pueblo Chieftain advertising bundles that were all washed up along the sides of the ponds. I remember spending a cold wet weekend digging all of those paper bundles out of the muck, sand and water while my stepdad and Tommy watched and offered their brand of encouragement.

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I never got caught, but I was visiting a friends family farm in the country and bought and came back with several Woodchuck Bombs.  They looked like a giant Ashcan / M 80.  For the intended purpose, you lit them, dropped them into the hole, and blocked every place you saw smoke coming out of the ground.  They would sure clear out forts. I never burned anything down, nor, since I'm sure they were toxic, poisoned friends or enemies.  Ah the good old days!

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43 minutes ago, Cypress Sun said:

Dang Yul...sounds like you didn't start getting your allowance again until you were well into your 40's.:o:D

Well not only did I lose out on allowance money I had aspirations to become a gynecologist specializing in blond cheerleaders but I’m pretty sure that the trauma  inflicted on me by those blond neighbor girls  having nothing to do with me affected my future earnings potential.:P

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8 hours ago, Injun Ryder, SASS #36201L said:

When I run for public office, I'm sure all of the details will come forth! Until then :ph34r:.

thats where im standing = wont take long to dig the dirt but for now it stays barried  , 

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sorry pat - i didnt think you were , i just wasnt thinking to air dirty laundry - its really not my way , but lets see here .............

 

OK , there was this time when a bunch of us were exploring this old barn , it was not far from home and we were pretty young kids , so finding a box of stick matches was fun , at least thats how i recall it , not sure who did what nor if we did much but a few hours later at dinner there was this firetruck and i recall my parents speculating on what might have required the fire departments attention in our neighborhood .......pretty sure it was our doing but ill never know for sure till i run for office , i know that no one was hurt in that incident , and the barn was still intact..... ....might have some scars 

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12 hours ago, Yul Lose said:

What’s the worst thing you did as a kid that got you into the most trouble with your parents?

In trouble with my parents ........little to nothing.

Most of the things that I did, I never got caught for.  B)

Had I got caught, this could get to be a long post.

Police only got involved twice with little affect on me, different story perhaps for some of my friends.

 

As kid, my dad and his friend shot out the only street light in town.

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21 hours ago, Yul Lose said:

What’s the worst thing you did as a kid that got you into the most trouble with your parents? I’ll start.

 

We were living in Minatare, Nebraska and I was 12 years old, and it was right around the 4th of July in 1966. We lived next door to a family that had 4-5 blond headed daughters and I was doing everything that I could think of to gain their attention. Right across the fence from our back yard was their backyard and a clothes line. Not many families had clothes driers in the house so they hung their wash on the line to dry. I tossed a lit Black Cat firecracker over the fence and it went off in one of the bed sheets or pillow cases and started on fire. The laundry was obviously pretty dry because it didn’t take long for all of the sheets and pillow cases and nearly everything else on the clothesline to catch on fire. I was frozen in place and my older sister jumped into action with a garden hose and finally got the fire put out with the help of some of those blond girls. Needless to say when mom got home from work I got my ass beat and then got it again when dad got home. I ended up not getting my 50 cent a week allowance for a couple of years to help pay for the laundry that I destroyed. Those girls didn’t talk to me much after that.

Yul, my worst one (at least where I ever caught) was also a fire.  When I was about five we lived in Woodland, Washington and Dad was on the volunteer fire department and both Mom and Dad worked for the local school district.  Pillars of the community doncha know.

 

We lived in a small house that was owned by the school district along with a few other similar houses.  Ours was the last on the left side at the north end of the street beyond which was a half acre vacant lot.

 

One afternoon a boy named Larry and I decided we wanted to see  the fire engines in action (Larry's dad was also a volunteer fireman) so I got a box of matches from Dad's workbench and we torched the lot.

 

We saw the fire engines in action, all two of them.  We also saw Hell from the inside.  Luckily the wind took the fire away from anything of value and the fire department had the shiniest engines in the Pacific Northwest for a year or so until we worked off our penalties.

 

BTW a strap make from a piece of fire hose is a very memorable disciplinary device

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Besides fire we were also fascinated by explosives and Estes rockets. 
 

We used to make homemade firecrackers out of roll caps. 1 roll made the sound of a Black Cat firecracker. 3 rolls made a similar explosion as an M80 or Cherry Bomb. We called them “Boomers”. 
One day we made around 25 homemade firecrackers and we made 2 “boomers” as we called them. 

We camped out in my friend’s yard that night and around 1 am we snuck off to light firecrackers in various parts of town. 
The police were apparently called because there were 2 cars patrolling, not the usual one that patrolled by sleeping behind the firehouse. 
We were near the post office when we saw a patrol car coming down the street. We ran across the street and hid behind some hedges. The patrol car came to a stop at the Intersection not 15’ from us. I took out a boomer and lit it and tossed it under the police car. My friends freaked out and ran. The two officers saw them and started to open the doors when the boomer went off. I swear both officers jumped and hit their heads on the ceiling of the car. 
That’s when I took off and one saw me and gave chase. 

I jumped a fence into a backyard where a big Doberman Pinscher lived. He liked me. I patted him on the head and then ran to the other side of the yard and climbed over the fence. I ducked down and looked through the fence as the officer came over the fence where I did and when his light hit that Dobie he froze. The dog approached and he pulled his gun. I was about to tyell and come back over the fence because I didn’t want him to shoot the Dobie when all of a sudden the dog ran up, grabbed the revolver from his hand then went into his doghouse with the cop just standing there looking surprised. 
I took off and met my friends back at our camp. 
We spent the next half hour stifling our laughing. 
The next day the story of our antics was broadcast over the local radio station including how the dog’s owner’s were awakened to retrieve the officer’s revolver. 
We decided to keep our fun to ourselves. I am pretty sure we would have gotten into a lot of trouble had anyone found out it was us. 
We were questioned by my friend’s parents about whether or not we heard or saw anything when we were camped out. Of course we didn’t.  We were just so tired from playing football the day before we went right to sleep. :rolleyes:
 

 

 

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21 minutes ago, Pat Riot said:

Besides fire we were also fascinated by explosives and Estes rockets. 
 

We used to make homemade firecrackers out of roll caps. 1 roll made the sound of a Black Cat firecracker. 3 rolls made a similar explosion as an M80 or Cherry Bomb. We called them “Boomers”. 
One day we made around 25 homemade firecrackers and we made 2 “boomers” as we called them. 

We camped out in my friend’s yard that night and around 1 am we snuck off to light firecrackers in various parts of town. 
The police were apparently called because there were 2 cars patrolling, not the usual one that patrolled by sleeping behind the firehouse. 
We were near the post office when we saw a patrol car coming down the street. We ran across the street and hid behind some hedges. The patrol car came to a stop at the Intersection not 15’ from us. I took out a boomer and lit it and tossed it under the police car. My friends freaked out and ran. The two officers saw them and started to open the doors when the boomer went off. I swear both officers jumped and hit their heads on the ceiling of the car. 
That’s when I took off and one saw me and gave chase. 

I jumped a fence into a backyard where a big Doberman Pinscher lived. He liked me. I patted him on the head and then ran to the other side of the yard and climbed over the fence. I ducked down and looked through the fence as the officer came over the fence where I did and when his light hit that Dobie he froze. The dog approached and he pulled his gun. I was about to tyell and come back over the fence because I didn’t want him to shoot the Dobie when all of a sudden the dog ran up, grabbed the revolver from his hand then went into his doghouse with the cop just standing there looking surprised. 
I took off and met my friends back at our camp. 
We spent the next half hour stifling our laughing. 
The next day the story of our antics was broadcast over the local radio station including how the dog’s owner’s were awakened to retrieve the officer’s revolver. 
We decided to keep our fun to ourselves. I am pretty sure we would have gotten into a lot of trouble had anyone found out it was us. 
We were questioned by my friend’s parents about whether or not we heard or saw anything when we were camped out. Of course we didn’t.  We were just so tired from playing football the day before we went right to sleep. :rolleyes:
 

 

 

 

:ph34r:

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The summer before my junior year in high school we moved to Monte Vista, Colorado. The mine that my dad worked at up in Creede closed down and he went to work for a trucking company. We lived in a trailer park east of Monte Vista and to the north of the park was the Rio Grande river. There was a rail line that had a trestle over the river and my brother and I would fish for trout from that trestle. I came across some M80’s that a school chum gave me and I knew that they were waterproof. One day I used electrical tape to attach some M80’s to rocks and lit them and threw them into the river from the trestle. Bam!!! more brown and rainbow trout than you could imagine came to the surface, stunned but not dead. Well my brother fashioned a long handled dip bet from a curtain rod and over the next few weeks we “caught” our limit nearly every time that we went “fishing”. Of course we couldn’t keep our mouths shut about what great success we were having and the word got out to the local game warden. One afternoon we were walking back to our house from a “successful” afternoon of “fishing” and there was the game warden standing at the end of the trestle. He’d watched the entire “fishing” adventure. My folks were pretty pissed about this one, I was to old to get my butt beat but not to old to get grounded for a couple of months. Needless to say I wasn’t allowed to go fishing for a long, long time.

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Attending a co ed bilingual school in NYC (through 8th grade) in the late '50s, the principal administered corporal punishment with a ruler. A couple of us were "disciplined" when we were caught smoking and chasing girls.  One kid, named Teddy, was especially active in the latter regard and was stood up by the principal on a number of occasions.  One incident resulted in the principal really losing control resulting in a broken ruler.  Apparently a note must have been sent home that evening, and Teddy's father came to the school and presented the principal with a foot long half inch thick piece of clear plastic with the comment, "this won't break".  After we graduated and went on to other schools, I lost track of Teddy.  Towards the end of the US involvement in Vietnam, on occasion the televised news would show troops returning from Vietnam, both unhurt and wounded.  I was surprised when Teddy was interviewed as he was carried off a plane on a stretcher.  The reporter asked him what his mother might think if she saw the interview.  His comment was "she'll probably faint".  I believe that was the last time wounded troops were interviewed upon their immediate return.  Teddy out grew his boyish ways.  I wonder what happened to him?

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