Eric the Rat
Sometime in highschool (I think it was my junior year) I had sort of become friends with a new kid in my ward, Eric Radamack. He was a short little red-headed guy who was kind of wierd in an intangible way. There was just something different about him, not really in a bad way. He was nice enough and seemed like a regualr guy at first glance, but once you talked to him he was not on the same frequency if that makes sense. Anyway, despie all this we had become friends, he was trying out for baseball and would give me rides home after the tryouts (he got cut... he kind of sucked), so that's mostly how we got to know each other. Then one weekend we were hanging out with Scott and actually staying at Scott's house overnight. We were feeling mischevious, so we decided to go to the store and buy some TP and eggs. When we were at the store Eric was feeling like a sissy and thought that it would be a good idea to buy some flour with the eggs so that it would look like we were baking something...now I'm not sure but I would imagine that three teenage boys at the store, at midnight, buying stuff to bake...would look much stranger than three teenagers buying some eggs to throw at stuff. So anyway we bought the eggs and flour and headed off to go and cause trouble. Eric had a really big Econ-line van that he was driving us around in, that was great for what we were doing because we kind of felt like the A-Team, but instead of helping people who couldn't turn to the law, we were throwing eggs at cars and houses. We drove through a new development called Remington and found a port-a-poty. (At this point I would like to add a disclaimer: I, along wih my friends in this little advernture were young, studpid and immature. If I could go back and slap myself upside the head and try to talk some sense to myself I would, but I can't so I just laugh about it.)Anyway, so we came across this port-a-poty and still had the bag of flour with us, so we decided to make a big winter diarama with the port-a-poty. I can just picture the constuction workers showing up the next day for work and opening the door to thier port-a-poty and finding it covered in flour and eggs. After the port-a-poty we drove over to Winterwood and picked out a few houses that we felt deserved a good egg bath. First up on the list was Mark Buhler's house. This was probably the most exciting one of the night. I didn't know Mark personally, but Eric did because they were fellow band geeks. Eric had done some previous pranks on Mark, and Mark had done some to Eric as well. So we started throwing the eggs at Marks house. We had probably thrown about four or five each when Mark's Dad (inderstandably irrate) came running and screaming like a wild boar out of the house. After a brief explitive or two we bolted to the van and screeched off. Our next stop ( I guess one near beating was not enough for us.) was Joel Broom's house. I had known Joel for a long time, well not really known him, we went the same school and played on the Jr. High basketball team together, but never really talked and definatley were not friends. I always thought he was a cocky jerk and plus he just had a face that I didn't like (I know that's not a good reason not to like someone, and even worse to dislike him, but that's the way it was. I didn't like him.) So we got his house pretty good. It was easier too because his house was just off the road down a short, steep hill. After that we just drove around for a while and threw eggs at street signs and stuff like that.
The next morning Eric had left early to go and do somthing with his family or something like that, and Scott and I had gone back to sleep. Later that same morning we were rudly awakened to Scott's dad telling us that we had a phone call from Eric. Appearantly his parents had heard some new about a large van causing some trouble at the Buhler's house. The Buhlers could not identify anyone, they just knew it was a large van that had visited thier house the previous night. After hearing this we were a little relieved becasue we thought we were safe, however that was before we learned that we had been ratted out. Eric had, had some type of guilty conscience that morning and decided to not only give himself up, but Scott and myself as well. So we spent a good part of that saturday cleaning egg off of houses. All thanks to Eric the Rat. Needless to say after that my relationship with Eric deteriorated rapidly. Plus, he was wierd to start with.
DAVE
The Remote
Sometime during my freshman or sophomore years in high school I was hanging out with my buddy Derek at his house. He had this sweet basement with a pool table, dart board, big screen TV and sectional couches with recliners. We usually spent time watching any of the Rocky, Rambo (Derek was a HUGE Sylvester Stallone fan) or Godfather movies and playing pool. Derek's pool table was pretty old and somehow the center of the table was lower than the sides. So when you tried to make a shot you would have to also factor in the slant of the sides of the table. One day we were down there hanging out and playing pool. Derek and I were pretty evenly matched when we played pool, however he was a little better than me. So when I had a chance to win I really had to focus hard, and try to make every shot. We were near the end of a 7 game series, and I had a pretty easy shot in front of me. I really wanted to make the shot because I had missed a few close ones previously, and was probably going to lose if I missed. I lined up the shot, and struck the cue ball. It sped across the table, missed it's mark, bounced off the rail hit the eight ball, which then dropped in a side pocket. I had lost. I was so close, and then to lose the game all in one shot made me pretty frustrated. So I did what any teenager would have done in my case. I took the pool cue, intending to vent my frustration on the couch, which would be alleviating and harmless at the same time. My target (the couch) was a dark blue, and the room lighting was poor. So when I loaded up to take an overhead axe style swing at the couch, I didn't notice the 10 inch Mitsubishi big screen multifunction remote control. About halfway through the down swing I finally did notice it, but it was too late to stop the swing. I remember thinking "Oh s**t! what did I just do?!?". The cue stick struck the remote very near the center with a sharp crack. Pulverized... well actually it didn't even break all the way in half, but needless to say it was irreparable. We thought about trying to duct tape it back together, but it was like trying to put back together a smashed egg. Initially I thought, "oh great that's going to setme back $50, but having no money, it meant a boat load of chores for the next few weeks. However, a few days later I was shocked to find out that, not only was the TV incompatible with universal remotes, but a new one would cost $300!!! For the next few months I was barred from Derek's house. Until Christmas came when I got a brand new Mitsubishi remote, which I then gave to Derek's Dad.
Years later I heard the story from Derek's dad point of view. I can't
remember exactly how it went but it involved Derek, very carefully
presenting the broken remote to him like it was a wounded animal.
From then on, whenever I saw Felipe (Derek's Dad), I got to hear about how destructive I was, it's always a good laugh.
The Paddle Boat
I think it was the summer of 1991, my best friend Ben had broken both of his arms by falling off a rope swing right next to his house in his neighbors yard. Actually, that's kind of a funny story too because we were both swing on this rope swing while it was lightly raining. The swing was just a rope with a piece of PVC pipe to hold onto at the end. I had gone first and at the hieght of my swing my hand suddenly slipped off the pipe (PVC pipe is very slippery when wet) and I flew through the air and landed on a grass hill and slid down the hill for about 15 feet. Ben was laughing pretty hard at my minor mishap, but then he went and took his turn on the swing and the same thing happened to him. However, when he landed he had both of his arms locked staight. I of course was laughing at the instant carma that Ben had incured. After he fell Ben was whining that his arms hurt (we didn't know they were broken at the time) and he didn't want to play anymore, which sucked for me because he was my only friend that lived near by. I remember thinking "Man Ben. don't be such a sissy, I fell just the same way you did and I'm not whining." The next day I called him and he was still being a wuss (as I thought at the time) and didn't want to do anything but put ice on his arms. Later that day his mom took him to the doctor and found out that he had broken both of his arms. My mom took me to the store so we could buy him some "Army Ants" to make him feel better. So for the next couple of weeks we were delegated to movies and video games (which some how Ben managed to play even with his arms in casts). Then after a while we began to venture outdoors. One day we were down at Lake Winter Wood. At the time most of it was still a gravel pit with just the front part being developed into the neighborhood. The Lake however was complete and a little dock had been made and a neighborhood paddle boat was available for use. So I decided that it would be a good idea to go out onto the lake with it. Now the term lake here is used very loosly because it was more like a big pond, it was about only 3/4 of a mile around. Anyway, after some minor coersion I convinced Ben to go out on the boat with me. We had paddled around for a while and I was getting bored of the paddle boat, so I decided to have some fun and make up a little game for me and Ben. I would stand in one corner of the boat and to aviod from sinking Ben would have to stand in the opposite corner to balance the boat. Then I would randomly jump to another corner and Ben would have to jump to the opposite corner. There was a lot more at stake in this game for Ben, being as he had two broken arms with casts on them, which made this game pretty interesting for me (I could be kind of a jerk sometimes). Anyway, after jumping to a few different corners, and with Ben wildly protesting the whole time I faked one way and jumped another. Ben, unfortunaly fell for my fake and we ended up in the same conrner of the boat, which instantly dipped 3 feet into the water and filled the foot well up with water. Our scramble for the other end of the boat only forece the boat further under water. It was then that I realized that this had not been the best idea that I had ever had. I thought "If Ben drowns I am going to get so busted." So there I was trying to help Ben (who was trying not to get his casts wet and trying not to drown at the same time) swim to shore with his two broken arms, and at the same time worrying about the paddle boat that was sinking fast to the bottom of the lake. Somehow, Ben made it to shore and I dragged that paddle boat out of the water. After we had walked back to Ben house, Ben figured that to stay out of trouble he needed to dry his casts off quickly with out his Mom finding out what had happened. We were only eleven or twelve years old, but I remember even then thinking that Ben's next idea was pretty dumb. He went up stairs into thier laundry room, heated up the iron, and started ironing his casts in an attempt to dry them out. It was pretty funny watching him trying to hold the iron with one broken arm while iroing his other broken arm, he kind of looked like a disfunctional robot. Plus he was kind of nervous because he knew his Mom would get pretty mad at him if she found out what had happened. Then the inevitable happened. The laundry door opened and his Mom came in and saw what Ben was doing. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!!" she agrily shouted. All I remember after that was muttering some excuse I had for going home and riding up the long hill to my house as fast as I could to distance myself from the impending punishment that Ben would recive all because of me. Later, I found out that Ben's Mom had to take him back to the doctor and get both of his casts redone. Just this past summer when Ben got married he shared an abbriged version of this story after I had given a toast, it was pretty funny, so I hope that Ben will put some of his point of view into it.
A day at Ryan Buhner Park
I think It was the summer in between Jr. High and High School. My friend Scott and I were down at the Ryan Buhner park (in Winterwood) spending time like we usually did playing basketball. We must have been really bored because we had stopped playing regular basketball and were creating our own game. In this game I had climbed up the fence at the end of the court, onto the hoop supports and was standing behind the backboard. It was a pretty simple game, Scott would try to shoot a basket, and I would easily block it. Appearently this was not a very fun game for Scott. He was getting more and more frusterated as he shot again and agian in vain trying to score. Meanwhile, I was having a great time, laughing at his feeble attempts to score at my basket. After what must have been about 15 minutes I was too tiered to laugh and Scott had decided that he would change the game from shooting at the basket to slinging the ball at my head. With this new rule change I decided that the game wasn't very fun anymore, being that I was standing on a narrow beam 10 feet in the air. So, I decided that I would climb down from atop of the hoop. I was trying to convey to Scott that the game was over and we should do something else, but he had other ideas. After I started climbing down the fence, Scott ran around the fence to near where I would be getting down. Thinking that Scott would stop hurling the ball at me once I was on the ground, I jumped from about the middle of the fence to the ground. When I landed, I was facing the fence and croughing down from the weight of the fall and as I turned and stood to see where Scott was all I saw was Scott loading up like he was throwing a long bomb (even though he was only standing about 6 feet away) and heaving the basketball directly at my mug. Now you have to realize all this happened in less than a few seconds, so I didn't have any time to react. The ball hit me square in the face and I fell backward against the fence onto my butt. When I realize what happened I yelled "WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO THAT FOR?!?!?" at Scott. I had no idea what he was thinking. He looked at me and yelled back "YOU DESERVED IT!!!" and then turned and started walking home. I sat there for a few minutes think about what just happened (dazed and confused), and then went home. A few days later (maybe two or three) we made up and started hanging out again. Scott told me later that he had thought I might run after him to fight him, in which case he would have given me a round-house to the gut as I was running up on him. Since that time we have had many good laughs about this incident and the famous words "YOU DESERVED IT" have been quoted many time whenever something unexpected happened to either one of us.
DAVE
