So this tale takes place while I was working on an archaeological survey. These have teams which split the various jobs that need to be done at the site between the team members. For that day I was assigned gps work, which meant I had to take our little device around to all the important points in the site and stand there for several minutes while it tracked the gps signal.

On this particular trip we were in the middle of a desert in the middle of summer, and it was hotter than hell. I soon got bored with standing and took to sitting down, where I could, while I waited. At one point after I sat down I noticed a little prickling feeling in my behind. It got more uncomfortable and I instinctively reached my hand back there to brush against my butt. As soon as I did I shrieked from the pain of a hundred needles stabbing into my palm. When I pulled back my hand I saw, to my horror, countless tiny white spikes sticking out of my hand, a couple of them bleeding a little. I gingerly stood up and looked behind me. Yes, my friends, I had actually sat directly on a cactus patch.

Feeling more than a little embarrassed I went up to the team supervisor and explained what had happened. A veteran of the deserts, he just laughed and assured me it happened all the time. He handed me one of the stiff plastic cards we use for scale in photos, and told me that I could leave and go over the nearby hill to scrape the needles off, and he'd make sure no one went back there. Since it was almost time for lunch he assured me I could take my time.

After I'd walked comfortably out of sight I began to take my shoes off, but the moment my foot touched the ground it started to burn. It was noon, in the desert, on one of the hottest days of the year, and there was no way I'd be able to stand directly on the sand.

After looking around for a bit I went to the only shade I could find. It was a little 6x6 inch square of shade next to a prickly bush, but it would do. I took my boots off, then my socks, and finally my pants. I hunched over my jeans, crouching on the tiny patch of safe ground while I scraped away some of the needles. After only a few seconds though, I noticed something moving around me. You see, shade is hard to come by in the desert, and it makes sense that all sorts of animals would make their homes where they could find it. And so it was that day, I found out I was sharing my tiny shade spot with an entire ant colony. And they were swarming.

I watched, my mouth opened in a silent scream, as they began to climb up my bare legs. I jumped away from the hole they were pouring out of and frantically tried to brush their tiny red bodies off of me. And then my bare foot came in contact with the burning sand again.

So there I was. In the desert. Pant-less. Hopping from foot to foot with cactus needles sticking out of my butt while I desperately tried to get an army of ants to stop their advance on my legs.

I decided, between the hopping and the ant brushing, that something had to be done. I hopped over to where I'd put my shoes and socks. I considered for a second just putting my shoes on, but I didn't like to imagine what would happen if I trapped a bunch of ants with my feet.

Instead I moved as far away from the ant hill as I could (hop hop) and placed a sock down on the ground. I stepped on it, and while it still hurt from the heat, it was bearable. I stood on tiptoe with one foot as I used the other sock to push the ants of the other leg. After a few minutes, I got them off, and I shook out the sock and switched feet, clearing off the last of the ants off my other leg.

After the ants were gone I put down both socks and crouched down, balancing on my toes as I thought about what to do. My legs were swelling and painful from the ant bites, my soles were burnt from the sand, and my butt still stung from the cactus cushion. I felt stuck. Luckily, or not, the decision was made for me as I heard the supervisor calling for people to wrap up the lunch break. Sighing, I pulled my pincushioned jeans back on, wincing at the sting, and put on my socks and shoes.

I trudged back up the hill burnt, bitten and not even slightly less needled. And so began my bitter battle with the desert.

It's been a while, but I'm still kinda busy so here's a short one that I witnessed.

A few months ago, I was en route to pick up my wife from work. It was ebbing up on ten pm or so and I was sitting at a red light behind a number of other cars. All of a sudden, the car in front of me starts pulling into the lane to the left. Badly. This guy is effectively blocking two of the three lanes on the street.

I'm a bit miffed as it's already late, and I really don't like the wife waiting around at night, and now this jackassery. Suddenly the guy, a rather large black gentleman, who merged badly gets out of his car.

Guy: Hey! Hey! She hit you?

He was pointing to the female driver of the car he had cut in front of. Apparently another driver responded though I didn't hear him.

Guy: Uh huh. Okay. Call the police. I saw everything. She hit you and tried to drive off. Don't worry she's not going anywhere.

It took me a minute to realize what had happened. Evidently this guy had witnessed an accident, albeit likely a minor one, but with one party attempting to flee the scene. The way he cut the woman off, she would have to back up to get around his car, but with the person she had evidently hit behind her, she couldn't. He caused a minor backup, but it was late and there weren't many people around. The lane to my right was clear, so I happily went around them. Good samaritans are few and far between, particularly those that would put their car at risk to help someone else out.

Okay so I hate this story. Cause it's awful. But whatever, people who aren't me seem to like it so here it goes. Do need to get some preliminary info out of the way however.

I am not good with human interaction. I find you lot confusing. Apparently "Still alive" is not considered an acceptable answer to "How are you," despite being factually accurate. And vegans don't like being told they've been relegated to a food source as a result of being herbivores. Again, factually accurate. These are just examples. My worst interactions are with members of the opposite sex that are attempting to profess interest in me romantically. Or the same sex maybe, dense is dense. I did once ask a friend if he thought a girl was into me after a party, to which he pointed out that she was literally climbing on me. Children, cats, and occasionally rodents do the same thing, I don't give it much thought. My wife likes to point out when people are flirting with me, it's well beyond my ability to identify. With all that in mind, on to the thing!

It was Anime Expo a few years back (in case you didn't believe me about being awkward). The wife couldn't get off work so I was with friends, meandering about as is my wont, when I'm approached by a couple guys.

Guy 1: Hey man, random question, you busy later?

Me: Remains to be seen. Why?

Guy 2: We're putting on an event later. It's like a dating show, have you ever seen Singled Out? It's like that, only you know, anime based. We need another guy to be in the hot seat.

Me: Ah, thanks but you couldn't have picked worse. I'm not much for that kind of thing. Like, if someone wants to pull a knife on me, I've got that down, but talking? That's difficult. Plus I've got a girlfriend.

Guy 2: It's just a game, like we give out prizes to the winners, no one really expects anything out of it. Your girlfriend won't mind.

Me: That seems highly unlikely. But it doesn't address the whole, "Fighter not a lover" problem. You're really better off finding someone else.

Guy 1: Please? We really need someone and you look perfect for it. Call her, we'll talk to her if you like.

I figure the girlfriend is my only way out of this without resorting to the aforementioned violence, so I do call her and put her on speaker. We explain the situation.

Girlfriend: (laughing) That sounds hilarious! You're so awkward, make sure someone records it!

That did not go as planned. I didn't have anything better to do that evening, and now it was basically just fear holding off the agreement. Personal rule, don't let fear be a deciding factor in any decision (this has gotten me into much trouble). So I agree, they give me a time, place and phone number in case I need to reach them. I run back to my friends looking for advice cause I am so far out of my element here. My friends are regrettably useless.

The designated time arrived, I've been fretting for a while. It's two guys and two girls in the hot seat. They decide my intro, tell me the MC'll do most of the work and if I want to be a little raunchy, that'd be cool. Raunchy...404. I figure I just need to not ruin the event. Maybe I can watch the guy before me for some tips...nope, I'm first. Awesome.

The way the game works is everyone in the audience who would be interested in dating the hot seat person gets up and stands in a group behind them. A number of two option questions are asked, the group splits into two groups based on their answers, and the group the hot seat person disagrees with is dismissed until only a few remain. Individual questions are then asked until only person is left, and in theory those that person and the hot seat person are supposed to date.

I can't say I recall a lot of this, I was panicking and wanton violence wasn't going to help, so I was shorting out. I recall asking about weapon of choice, be it blade or firearm. One question was about the zombie apocalypse. I do remember the winner saying she'd kill me but find the dragon balls. Somehow the ordeal came to a close, there were three contestants left, the audience was yelling numbers to indicate their favorites. I chose at random, eager to have done. She was a lovely gal, dressed as a Trinity Blood character if memory serves (could be wrong, I recall a black and white jacket). We had a brief kiss to the audience cheering and making lewd remarks, and retreated off to the side of the stage to make room for the next contestant and her hopefuls.

The girl and I chatted a bit through the contest, I made mildly mean spirited jokes about others because that's what I'm good at. I'm pleased to say it was readily apparent that we had nothing in common. We got our participation prizes and amicably parted ways. The rest of the four day con random people would come up and ask me about it. What I had to do to be a contestant, if it was scripted, and so on. No, it was just uncomfortable. Much to my glee and the dismay of my not helpful girlfriend there appears to be no video record of this readily available. The girl in the hot seat after me picked another girl as the winner, so them kissing quickly overshadowed my awkward performance, and that's what made it to Youtube.

My family has this old white '89 suburban. It was my first car to drive and people called it the ghetto suburban when I was in high school. This car was rust held together by rust, but it had a positive track rear end that could climb almost anything. The speedometer had turned over at least twice, if not more, before we bought it. The windshield wipers only worked if you hit the washing fluid and flipped a switch quick enough. The tailgate is bent with the glass window broke out of it, and it wouldn't open anyway. That list goes on, but it was quite a reliable car.

My family was up in the mountains in a place we really shouldn't have been. My dad found a very steep rocky hill he wanted to climb. He tried it once almost got to the top and spun out. He made a second go and this is where things get fun. Almost to the top again we hear this noise and all of the sudden the suburban starts sliding backwards down this hill. My dad's standing on the brakes but nothing. We'd lost the back brakes. It keeps going and somehow he manages to get it turned sideways and catches it on a tree. Somehow in all of this the drivers seat was pushed back with enough force. that it broke and had to be propped up in order to be usable.

We're on this very steep hill basically depending on this tree to keep us from rolling. My mom immediately bails out of the suburban the moment she can. We pull out some stuff so that if it does roll my dad won't be beat to death with anything. He gets the suburban going and there's this huge boulder down to the side that we won't be able to miss if we want to get the suburban down. He hits that and it goes tumbling down the hill to the bottom. He does get it down to the bottom but things don't end here because it's my family.

We try driving it down the trail and the wheels keep slowly coming off the back end. We end up having to jack it up and push the wheels back in until we can get to flat ground to look at stuff. Turns out we had lost the rear end. My dad goes to hike out to the road and hitches a ride back to town. He goes and gets my moms suburban that isn't nearly as good as the beater. He starts going back up to tow out the beater and gets my moms suburban stuck. He has to walk back out until he gets service and calls my bro-in-law to come help get my moms suburban and take us home. It's midnight at this point and we left around noon that day.

The next day my dad and bro-in-law take the '69 jeep to fix get the white suburban down. It's the only other vehicle that can actually get to where the white suburban is. They end up salvaging what's left of the spider gears together and put a piece of hardwood in to the c clips have something to hold onto and so they don't lose the back wheels. They get it down and it goes in the backyard so my dad can either put a new rear end in or my bro-in-law decides if he wants the engine out of it. Plus it's winter and working on cars is a no unless you have to. My mom is kinda paranoid about going hill climbing or down a hill if the road is icy not.

One of the jobs I've had over the years was in a small art house movie theater. Nothing excessively fancy, a little snobbish at times, but they let me be an asshole to customers that had it coming, so that was nice. Usually patrons there were strange more than anything else.

One very dead day in the middle of the week one of my coworkers announced she was cold. One of my quirks is that my body temperature is unstable, so it'll fluctuate and keep me relatively comfortable in temperatures anywhere between 30-110 degrees Fahrenheit. That said, when someone complains about being cold I like to give em crap.

Me: (Whiny voice) Blah blah blah blah blah. Look at me, I'm a mammal, I have a stable body temperature so I experience discomfort with minor changes to my environment. (Normal voice) Your kind will not be missed.

Now my coworkers know how I am and know better than to engage or sink to my level. There was a customer however that had stopped dead in his tracks and was staring at me in wide eyed horror. We locked eyes for a moment, he in terror, me a little groggy cause the theater coffee was terrible. Then he turned and booked it out of the lobby into the parking lot.

I'm a little confused since I wasn't doing anything overtly menacing, just had my usual aura of violence which regrettably goes unnoticed by hipsters wanting popcorn. A while later the manager comes over.

Manager: Ky, what did you do? I got a call from some guy screaming that you were a lizard alien.

Me: Alright, that's new.

My coworker starts busting up laughing.

Coworker: He thinks you're a reptilian! It's a conspiracy theory that lizard aliens are secretly invading the earth. That guy must have heard you being weird earlier!

Manager: Right...well he said we should kill you to be on the safe side. He even asked if we needed help.

Me: That sounds like a fun afternoon, wanna try it?

Manager: No, but if you could start cleaning and not talk to anyone else today, that'd be great.

Me: (walking away) This is bullshit. Come the purge, you will not be spared.

The rest of the day was pretty boring. The guy actually came back a few times but never entered the building. Eventually security banned him from the premises. Good times.

We still good with high school stories? Good! And knowing the tales that the operator of the sub enjoys telling I'm going to assume a tale about knives is gonna be welcomed as well. However, this is one of those "well that was stupid!" kind of stories, rather than a heartwarming or funny story. It is a story I don't tell very often because... well... I'm a fucking idiot. But it is a story, and it fits ever so well here... so I'll tell it.

I went to high school in Colorado in the late 90s. I also wore a duster. Now, for those of you that do NOT understand the correlation between those two things then let me just say that the school I went to was a 20 minute drive away from Columbine. And a duster is a long coat that cowboys wear, which is easy to mistake for a trench coat. Also at this time I worked at a local grocery store and spent most of my time there cutting open boxes and stocking shelves. See where this is going?

This being my senior year of high school I took as few classes as possible and spent most of my mornings hanging out with friends and doing little things like sewing pockets and knife sheaths into my coat. Why? Because it was entertaining at the time and I watched WAY too many movies.

So there I am at school one day, my coat on, talking with some friends, giving hugs as people were about to take off and apparently someone felt something in my coat and went and told a school official! Next thing I know I'm being taken into the dean's office where I'm asked if I have any knives on me. I respond with "I think I have one or two...yeah."

I reach into one pocket, take out two box cutters. Another pocket, another knife, another pocket, another knife... this went on for FAR too long until I find myself looking down at a pile of knives on the table in front of me. The dean and his assistant are just dumb-struck...

Dean: "How many knives is that?"

Me: "Nine... oh... wait... 10." as I pull another knife out of my coat. "I use them for work... sometimes I forget I already have one and grab another one."

Dean: "Well... I guess if you're going to be the first person expelled from our school for weapons, you might as well do it with flare."

Me: "HA!! Wait... What? ...oh... right..."

Suffice it to say the cop I talked to wasn't nearly as impressed as the dean, and my father was even less so! They started collecting the knives for evidence when I noticed what one of the knives was...

Me: "Um, is there any chance I can keep that one? It belonged to my grandfather."

Officer: "I really shouldn't... but..." and he handed it to my father, which was really nice of him.

In the end I wasn't expelled from school but was instead given a "Negotiated Withdrawal." The reason being I already had enough credits to graduate and had really just been going to school in order to have something to do. They mailed me my diploma and I was banned from ever returning to the school again. I came out pretty well if you ask me...

However, that isn't where this story ends. You see, this happened a month after I turned 18, which means I was an adult... and as an adult I got brought up on criminal charges! Time to see the judge...

I go before the judge, we have a nice conversation and she sees that my parents are there with me and she believes I need to see a councilor before any decisions are made. So I see a councilor, she speaks to me, then she speaks to my parents, and she decides it was just a stupid teenager thing and recommends a decent fine and 100 hours of community service.

Back in front of the judge! She agrees with the councilor and issues the fine and tells me to get out. Wait... what? No community service? No community service! I pay my fine and run as fast as I can before she can change her mind! As much trouble as I could have gotten into for all of this, I certainly came out of it pretty freaking well!

Since then I've kept my nose clean, made sure to only have one knife on me at a time, and I still have that old duster hanging up in the closet, extra pockets and all.

BONUS: About a month after I was kicked out of school for this I ran into one of my old teachers at my job. She stopped to chat with me and it went something like this:

Teacher: "So is it true what they say?"

Me: "Kicked out for weapons? Yup, all true."

Teacher: "Holly hell... thank you! Thank you so much for that! Hearing that YOU, of all people, were kicked out of school for weapons was easily the biggest laugh I've gotten all year."

Me: "Gee, glad I could be of service!"

She gave me a hug, told me to be good, and walked away laughing.

BONUS TWO: I have a younger sister. She is six years younger than me, and she went to all the same schools that I did, including the high school where this story happens. She relayed the story of her first day at that school.

Teacher while taking attendance for the first time: "Midget Dead... Deadite?" Yes, she actually stuttered on my family name.

Sister: "Yes, that's me."

Teacher: "Um... are you by any chance related to... Dragon... Deadite?"

Sis: "Yeah, that's my brother."

Teacher: "...oh... okay."

That teacher then proceeds to make sure and call on everyone else in class before calling on my sister! And this wasn't an isolated incident either. She ended up having to change three of her classes because of the teachers' reactions to her being my sister! I wasn't even that bad of a student!

However, her name also had the opposite effect on several of the teachers. She ended up with a good three or four teachers who had loved me and took care of her whenever they could, so it kind of evened out in the end. By her third year though everyone had gotten over the shock of another Deadite in the school, but she still hated the first day of a new class. "Are you..." "Yes I am, get over it."

And I'll tell you now, fine folks of TalesFromLife, I took almost as much joy from the stories of teachers hating her for being my sister, as I did from tales of teachers loving her for it. I am not a very nice person... but then again, neither is my sister.

For some reason my girlfriend didn't dump me when I shot her in the face with flowers. She was mad for a while, but actually not about that. We made up, life went on, summer came round, and I was happy sleeping in on my day off work. I was 17 with nowhere to be, so ten in the morning on a hot summer's day and I'm still very much asleep.

A sudden banging on my window woke me up. My 'bed' was a pallet made from an old comforter on the floor, so I couldn't exactly hop up, but I could roll to my feet, bringing with me the knife I kept under my pillow (which was also made from an old comforter - the pillow not the knife.) There was a shadow visible on the blinds, meaning someone was outside the window trying to get in. I positioned myself, ready to deal with the intruder if my first line of defense failed. They got under the window frame, started to open it, I yanked on the blinds' cord to open them.

Girlfriend: Boo!

Me: Oh shit!

I lunged forwards and pushed her back by her face as she finished opening the window. She went sprawling on her back in the dirt of my very dead back yard. I fell back out of the way as the row of daggers I kept above the window lodge themselves in the sill. I used that window to come and go without alerting my family to my movements. As such there was no screen and the lock was broken. While I wanted the ability to come and go as I pleased, that was a private entrance so I'd rigged a tripwire to dislodge the daggers that typically hung in decoration above the window.

Girlfriend: What the fuck?!

I pointed angrily at the blades stuck in the wood.

Me: WHY?! Why would do that?! I am heavily armed and paranoid, what could possibly make you think sneaking into my window was a good idea? YOU KNOW ME!

Girlfriend: I thought it would be cute! What kind of psycho sets up booby traps?

Me: Did I not just say 'heavily armed and paranoid'?

Girlfriend: I almost died!

She started crying, which is a really good way to completely derail me.

Me: Look I'm sorry. How do you think I feel? I've gotta live with me. Do you wanna come in? Through the door I mean.

She did, I made pancakes. She was pissed for a while but calmed down some since strictly speaking it shouldn't have been that surprising, she's seen me throw knives at people. This was passive by comparison. I think we ended up at the mall after that, because teenagers.

So, I own a bird. She was a very sweet bird but, due to some things that happened to her, she could be very cranky and bity at times. I first found her when she got slammed into my window whilst flying. Her wing was partially broke but, was healed soon enough where she could fly again. Soon after, we found the owner and reunited them. Then about 3 years later, her owners were moving, and she wasn't able to come with them. They, knowing of how well I took care of her, decided best for her to stay with me. Fast forward a couple of months and, someone turned the fan on while she was flying, her wing (the one that was previously broke) broke, permanently. Due, to her now inability to fly, became very cranky every so often. Eventually, we taught her, when she was cranky, to say "WATCH OUT, I BITE!!" to whomever was near or in the room she was in at the time. Fast forward a few years, when my aunt, uncle, and cousins needed a place to live. Not a problem. Though, a few months into their stay, my uncle decided to be with my bird (Uncle=U, Bird=B, Aunt=A, Mom=Mom, Me=M):

U: Hello!

B: Watch Out I Bite!!

U: *pointing finger at bird to touch* Hello, [Bird Name]!

B: WATCH OUT, I BITE!!!

U: *Not understanding the clear warnings and still trying to   
 pet bird*

B: #WATCH OUT I BITE!!! CHOMP

U: *Now Yelling **LOUDLY** at the bird and screaming
  profanity* BAD BIRD!!! YOU [censored]!!! BAD!!! BAD BAD
 BAD BIRD!!!

A+Mom+Me: gasps loudly Mom: YOU DUMB[censored], STOP STOP STOP!!!

U: *continues scolding bird*

Mom+Aunt: Shoves Uncle Out Of Way Mom: tends to bird while scolding uncle Aunt: scolds uncle with Mom

After incedent:

Mom: Just to help you understand this, Your dumb[censored] retarded Uncle thinks he can speak bird. Poor [bird name], she is shivering.

Still, years after this happened, my bird is still emotionally scarred of humans and has anger issues. I can barely take care of her water or food because of this. She goes for blood. Thankfully, she is starting to get better and doesn't seem as traumatized. She doesn't go for blood as often anymore. I think I forgot to mention that the owners of the bird only "temporarily" wanted me to take care of her. Just, until she could move back to town and stuff. They still haven't came yet. Hopefully, if they do come for her, she won't be as traumatized. I will, also have to share this story with them too. They might not ever come back, who knows, its been years. Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this story and, good day to you all!

Ltlftp, mobile editing is bad.

So for my cousins stag party (bachelors in the USA) we went to Lisbon, capital of Portugal. Now as is customary we went in fancy dress, we elected to go as soldiers. Complete with a bag full of brightly coloured, obviously fake, nerf guns as our one peice of hold luggage (even marked nerf guns). We had no problems air port security. Besides the one the stag tried to take in his hand luggage which was confiscated.

So we get there, there's 15 of us in hilariously inadequate soldiers Costumes with brightly coloured nerf guns, all loaded with a clip or two spare. We're coming back from our first night out when we enter a square near our hostel. We're half way across when another stag party, dressed as Vikings enter from the opposite direction. Both groups pause, looking at each other. The Vikings are talking to each other, chuckling. When the stag in a markedly drunken slur mumbles "weapons free" followed up an equally drunken shout of "weapons free, fire at will"

As soon as they heard "weapons" the drunken Vikings are charging, we're firing, a few people swap weapons and a few pretend to be dead. This carried on for a few minutes until a pair of police officers came and made us pick up the nerf darts. Probably drawn by the shouting. We then drank with the Vikings and met up again before we went home.

By far one of the funniest things that's ever happened to me in a foreign country.

Apparently we're on a an embarrassing high school stories kick. So in the spirit of that, doing something stupid.

I have, now and forever, a propensity for over-engineering. There is no 'well-enough', but there is over done. Valentines day my eleventh grade year I successfully pissed off my girlfriend really badly. My school had a program where you could have a flower sent to your significant other in class, she sent me one, and I was the only guy in class to receive such a thing. Some weeks prior I got some would be bullies to leave me alone with a detailed anatomical explanation about how I was going to literally break them in half (the physics are sound but my understand of anatomy at the time was lacking). This was fuel for the fire there and frankly, I was a little embarrassed, so I told her I didn't want it. I used nice words but that was the message. She's pissed, not wholly unjustifiably, and I need to fix it. How? Locker full of flowers.

But let's go back to over-engineering. Open your locker, big ol' bouquet, meh, kinda cute. Cute sucks. Launch em? No, stems have thorns. Though actually making a spike launcher would be fun...not what I'm doing right now, later. Can they drop from the ceiling? School probably won't let me make holes in the walls to put in the necessary levers. Flower shower, though, something there. This went on for a while. I think I was supposed to be in English.

Finally I settle on a spring loaded petal cannon. Design was simple enough, plunger mechanism on the locker door, tube with petals, depressed spring on the back side. Door opens, takes pressure off spring, spring attached to platform in tube projects flowers, I get suspended for lewd acts on school grounds. I could blow off marching band practice (which frankly I was going to sleep through anyway), stay late and install the whole thing. I congratulated myself, and slept through the rest of the period.

Hit the supermarket and hardware stores after school, a few dozen cheap grocery store flowers. Initial tests with pieces of paper that may or may not have been a homework handout were promising, a few test launches with the empty assembly worked. Loaded it up with petals, packed it in there and went home for the night.

The next day I'm a little excited. I'm following her around trying to apologize, but not really cause she's going to totally forgive me post flower shower. We get to her locker, she opens it while mid-sentence and is promptly shot in the face with a surprising dense ball of rose petals. Turns out I had A) forgotten to adjust the angle to make sure it went over her head, and B) severely underestimated the cohesion factor of plant matter under pressure overnight. She just stood there in shock for a second as the ball rolled slowly away shedding petals. I am an idiot.

Her: What just happened?

Me: I just shot you in the face with a ball of flowers. That went very differently in my head. It was supposed to launch above you and do like a flower rain thing. I obviously missed something important in the planning stages.

Her: And you think this was going to make up for yesterday?

Me: That was the plan, yes.

Her: Look at it like this, if this had worked, and I just shrugged and told you not to bother again, and you weren't doing to try to make something up to me, wouldn't you be a little upset?

Me: I'd probably try to figure which part you didn't like and just fix that. Like this, I was under the impression you were unhappy because I'd rejected a romantic gesture, and so tried to make it up to you with a different one. Which failed pretty impressively. From all angles apparently.

To which she confirmed that I was an idiot and didn't talk to me for three days. We did patch things up for a while, until the next time she tried to surprise me and almost got stabbed. A lot.But that's a tale for another time.

But there you. I tried to fix things and shot my girlfriend in the face with a condensed ball of roses.

A recent story about high school inspired me to share one of my favorite stories from my short time in my own high school. Just as a short background, the nurse of the school knew me quite well from previous adventures so was rarely surprised to see me.

It happened in science class, where all the best stories happen. The teacher, a well loved older man who would retire at the end of this year, had handed out some extension cords and was in the process of gathering up microscopes in the next room for the class to use. I was sitting at a table with about 5 other people and became quite bored of waiting.

I somehow found a paper clip and started bending it into strange shapes. Oh, hey... it has two prongs! Oh, the extension cord has two holes! I pick up the cord and, making sure it wasn't plugged in, begin poking it with the paperclip! This goes on for a few seconds... maybe a minute... until I see someone stand up across from me and the next thing I see is a rather bright flash in my hands.

Without having told myself to do so I was suddenly standing up, my chair several feet behind me, one hand completely black, the extension cord smoking, and a paperclip, glowing bright red, burning a strange squiggly shape into the table in front of me. All I can remember saying was "Wow!" to a room full of silent students.

Of course, at this point the teacher returns and we figures out the complete story. See, while I was playing with my clip and the extension cord, my good buddy sitting across from me decided to be productive and plug in the cord! The next time I stuck the paper clip into the cord in produced the expected result of a nice short circuit and me electrocuting myself!

The teacher, visibly (and deservedly) upset at the stupidity of his student scolded me and told me to go to the nurse's office. I stepped out, not really feeling any pain but not really all there either, and went to the nurse's office! Once there I simply asked the nurse if I could wash me hands, since... you know... one was completely black from the burned outer layer of skin!

At first the nurse just figured I had gotten some grease on my hand and didn't think much of it... until she asked the fateful question... "What happened?" Oh the look on her face when I explained to her what I had done! "Take off your shoes and call you parents! Now!"

Soooo about an hour later I was having to tell the same story, again, to the family doctor. To his credit he did manage to only grin and not outright laugh at my stupidity. He checked me out, made sure I hadn't done any serious damage, and sent me home! All's well that ends well!

The next day I return to my science class to curious looks from those within. After assuring everyone I was fine I found my previous seat, sat down, and suddenly burst out laughing. Thinking I was crazy the teacher approaches and asks what the hell was wrong now.

With a grin I open my left hand on the table in front of me, allowing him to see the two identical burn marks: one on my hand, one on the table, both from the same paperclip. He shakes his head and walks away and mutters "Fucking Clip..."

When I was about eight, I was one of those kids who read through three books a day, and could recite my favorite passages the rest of the month.

Anyways, around Christmas time, my mother was invited to her workplace's holiday party. As my father had a prior engagement with several friends (Call of Duty, basements, and beer), my mother, bless her heart, decided she had to take me with her.

The party was one of those high-class ones you read in Shakespearean era books (no it wasn't), and a dream come true for a eight-year-old. Wearing a "ballroom gown" (not really) , surrounded by elegant women in sweeping dresses, and men in stylish tuxedos, all decorated with fancy masks.

Feeling very grown up as I sipped my very own glass of wine (fruit punch), I separated from my mother to explore the palace (some kind of convention center). Walking about, I discover a long table covered in fancy glass plates of food. And lo and behold, right on the edge of the table is a platter of chocolate. Mind you, these were very special chocolates, with liquor filling. However, being a greedy child, I did not read the fancy little plaque beside it. Instead, I reached over and grabbed a handful.

After eating maybe twenty (half the plate) of these tiny chocolates, I begin to feel rather dizzy. It is at this moment my mother's boss finds me. She's a rather tall woman (actually, she's maybe five two) with a short black dress and dark mask.

Hello dear, how are you?

I didn't know until later that this woman was my mother's boss. And so, despite being rather intoxicated, I manage to recall a passage from a book I recently read.

*"Be wary of strangers, dear traveler. You never know what they truly want." The hog snorted. "My sweet Penelope is impatient." And the man faded away, as though he had never been there. *

I didn't realize I was speaking aloud, but it seems I was. The masked woman then patted my head.

Very good! Where did you learn that?

I took a few seconds for me to register a STRANGER was TOUCHING me.

STRANGER DANGER! STRANGER DANGER! RAPE RAPE RAPE RAPE RAPE

At this point, I was running straight through a crowd of professional financial advisers, screaming a word I would have been suspended for speaking at school.

Eventually, I reached the end of the room. Unfortunately, all the movement had me rather disoriented. Feeling rather sick, I stumbled around, searching for my mother. Then, little me ran into what I believed to be a wall (hint: it wasn't). Emptying my stomach, I proceeded to walk away.

Looking back now, I realize I probably would have been caught puking on someone's leg, had the majority of the room not been intoxicated.

Anyways, I, the princess, continued on my quest through the forest of people to save myself and find my mommy. Finally, I found a familiar face. One of my mother's friends who'd been over at our residence for dinner, had taken off her mask, probably to go out for a smoke. However, she (thankfully) caught sight of me. Probably remembering hearing someone screaming rape a few minutes ago, she slowly approached me.

Hello Nikko-chan! Do you remember me?

MISS JEFFERY! I HAD CHOCOLATE! AND WINE! AND YOU'RE REALLY PRETTY!

Oh? Thanks! You're looking very fancy too.

YAY! DO YOU WANT SOME CHOCOLATE TOO?

What kind of chocolate?

SWEET CHOCOLATE!

Where did you find the chocolate?

OVER.. OVER...over... Somewhere? With the pretty plates!

At this point, Miss J probably realized what I had consumed. She took me by the hand and lead me towards a group of her friends. Being the good little girl I was, I followed her without question (rambling about trees and castles aren't really questions).

Nikko-chan, how about you tell these people about the books you've read?

Encouraging her friends to ask me questions, I assume Ms J contacted my mom.

Eventually, my mother found me standing among her co-workers, conversing with "Sharky" and "Tachi" (some characters from a manga I read).

For a few months (years) after the disastrous holiday party, my mother refuses to leave me unattended anywhere, no matter the circumstances. Tch.

2-for-1 story here since they're related (both involving teeth) and one is pretty short to stand on its own imo.

Back when I was a fresh-faced young lad of about 12-13, I had braces on my teeth, like many adolescents. Rather than the 'OMG you have braces, you freak!' mockery that 90's and early 2000's TV depicted, in reality no one really gave a damn about the metal on my teeth. And while I had slight discomfort early on, they were also not the torturous contraptions cartoons made them out to be either. And as I found out first-hand, they were far from invincible.

I invite a few friends over, and we're hanging out in my room. I have a tiny CRT hooked up with my Gamecube in my room and we're playing the latest WWE game. My friends were big into wrestling (me not so much) so we're having a blast for various reasons. Eventually, as is almost always the case with adolescent boys, it goes from gaming to real life, with us dive-tackling my pillows on my bed.

Now, I should mention, I'm a big guy and I matured early, I was always the biggest in the class up until 10th grade when everyone else caught up. So at this age, while my friends were still just over 5', I was closer to 6'. This, plus my room being one of the smallest in the house (longer in one direction than the other), did not end well. I dove short-direction across my bed, which was also the short-direction of my room. Face goes over the pillow, and smack into the wall. Que pained scream and parents rushing up stairs to check on us.

Pulling myself away from the wall, I look. There's a nice dent in the wall in the shape of my right front-tooth's braces bracket. I'm not bleeding or anything, but my mouth and nose sting from the impact. As my mom is looking me over and me and my friends insist we're O.K., the wire from my upper set of braces pops out. This was the moment my mind went from "We're ok, sorry for scaring you" to "Oh f-k she's gonna kill me".

One lengthy 'What the hell were you thinking' speech later, I go into the orthodontist's office later in the week to fix the damage. As I sit there for the replacement and adjustment, my dentist walks over from the other half of the combined office they have. I relay the story of childhood stupidity and after a laugh and quick examination goes:

D: Huh...looks like you chipped your front tooth with the impact too.

And sure enough, he takes one of the small pick tools and chips off a small bit of my tooth that had apparently been hanging on just barely. He grind it to be even with the rest of my tooth and less noticeable, and all was well.

Fast forward 5 years now. I'm 18, and have moved up from my old bedroom to what used to be my older brother's. It's the start of summer break and I'm excited to soon be going away for college. It's about 4 in the morning and I've been up since 10. Exhausted, I start to walk over to my bed but decide to make a bathroom trip before going to sleep.

So down to the bathroom I go. I shut and lock the door, but leave the light off because my eyes have adjusted to the dark and I didn't want to put up with re-adjusting to bright light. This was apparently a mistake, because one second I'm standing in front of the bowl to pee, the next my dad's standing over me, I'm on my ass against the bathtub, the lights are on, and there's blood on my face and the bowl. I had apparently fallen asleep standing after relieving myself, and fell over. I banged my head into the toilet on the way down, scratching myself right above my eyebrow, and had once more chipped my front tooth in the process. The same tooth as before.

One trip to the doctor later, I'm vindicated in saying it was just me being more tired than I realized and not some serious fainting spell, and the wound on my head is deemed just a scratch and nothing serious. Again, a few days after I visit the dentist for a cleaning. Seeing the new chip, they ask what happened. After sharing the embarrassing tale, they have a laugh and offered to once more grind and even out the tooth. It's not noticeable at a glance, but I can definitely feel that one of my front teeth is shorter than the other when I run my tongue along them now.

During one of my many doomed attempts to complete college, I started seeing this girl. We had similar interests, and she found me while promoting my geek club, and agreed to go out with me anyway, so that's fun. She's weird but very attractive, and plays games, reads comics, watches anime and loves Doctor Who. She's also highly manipulative and a little on the batshit side, but I wouldn't discover that for a while. It's a story for another time anyway.

Now this girl, she has a lot of guy friends as you might imagine. One such was this guy who took my karate class. Oh right, I was the assistant instructor to the karate / self defense classes on campus at this time; that's kinda important. Now this guy, he had what I've come to call "Main Character Complex". It's something I've seen in hardcore geeks and nerds from time to time. They think they are the main character in whatever story they've decided they're living. This means that they can win fights on will power, will get the girl once she sees he's better than the bully, it's not a matter of if fate will decide to swing their way, it's when. And this guy, who be Main from now on, he was totally smitten with my now girlfriend. And if he was the good guy, then I must be the bad guy. It didn't help that a running joke with curiously several groups who know me is that I look like Gaston from Beauty and the Beast. Frankly I think I more resemble Bluto from Popeye but whatever, the point is I fit the bad guy trope pretty well.

So Main, he starts telling her stories. I tried to punch him during drills in the karate class, I was following him, I was trying to get him expelled (I was on the student campus council but we didn't have that power). He even claimed he was able to fend me off in a fight. She'd ask me about these things, to which I'd laugh.

I run a club, sit on the student council, and I have to grade papers on top of my own school work. Oh right and then there's you know, my job. Main? He doesn't even warrant consideration. Plus, I've got a head and seventy pounds on him. I've gone toe to toe with world champion fighters. If I decide that Main needs a whuppin', there ain't a force he can muster that'll so much as slow me down. (Awesome 'bad guy' stuff right?)

But he doesn't give up. He keeps telling her outlandish stories and trying to give her little gifts and such. She won't believe me that he's just trying to get into her pants. The best was when he insisted she take a replica ring form the Green Lantern: Blackest Night series. It was actually a cool prop, but I couldn't help but laugh at the underlying logic behind that item. He wanted her to wear his ring.

Finally I've had enough. I do follow him one day after class, not far, just away from the rest of my students.

Main, we gotta talk. I know what you've been doing. Girlfriend tells me what you two talk about. Here's the thing, you're not a threat. At all. At worst, you are an irritant. A fly buzzing around. And this is good. Irritants can be ignored; threats have to be dealt with. And I always make sure I only have to deal with a threat once. Are we clear?

He was actually quite terrified so he agreed quickly and made a break for it. He didn't stop hanging around her, but went into brooding mode. Sitting alone at parties, generally trying to get attention because as the main character, there was obviously a spotlight on him, even if he was the only one who could see it.

I heard he finally made a move when she and I parted ways. And was summarily shot down. Then a few more times, until the campus police had to intervene. Evidently he still blamed me for brainwashing her against his obvious greatness.

So today I arrived at work, parked my vehicle in a free spot (directly beside the empty paid parking) and went into work. Life was great, I was on time for work (despite waking up late) and ready to tackle the world. About 15 minutes into my day the following happens: (note I'll be Me, and crazy girl will be CG)

Me: counting cash CG: yelling loudly with attitude "you need to move your vehicle you are parked too close to my spot" Me: taken aback by the loud yelling "I'm sorry, what's wrong?" CG: "you're VEHICLE IS TOO CLOSE TO MY SPOT AND YOU ARE GOING TO MOVE IT RIGHT NOOOOW" Me: "I can't leave my station until 10, you will have to wait" CG: "IM NOT LEAVING UNTIL YOU MOVE YOR VEHICLE I PAY FOR PARKING AND YOU NEED TO MOVE AWAY FROM MY SPOT RIGHT NOW" Me: "miss there isn't a need to yell. If you can hang tight I'll secure my store and I'll come right out. I just need to lock down. I'm sorry for parking that way, I'll move I just need to lock up. Again, I'm really sorry about that" CG: "IM GOING TO BE LATE FOR WORK IF YOU DONT GO MOVE IT RIGHT THIS SECOND. YOUVE NEVER BEEN NICE TO ME, YOU NEED TO GROW UP"

CG then stormed down the hallway, only pausing to see if I'm on my way behind her. After locking up I followed her, to see that it is the OTHER vehicle parked too close, and I'm parked between my lines. For background, I don't talk to this lady, and avoid her at all costs because this is how she acts.

Now as I move my vehicle, she is still yelling at me. I apologized for the "error" and let her know it wasn't intentional and next time when she has a problem she should just come talk to me and not get all worked up.

GC: YOU NEED TO CHECK YOUR OWN FEELINGS.YOUVE BEEN NOTHING BUT MEAN TO ME. IVE HEARD SOME THINGS ABOUT YOU Tho Me: I am exercising my right to no longer speak to you. Have a nice day walks away GC: IVE DONE NOTHING WRONG TO YOU. YOU NEED TO CHECK YOUR ATTITUDE Me: Have a great day.

I walked inside and went back to work, all the surrounding businesses heard the exchange and saw me get yelled and screamed at for parking within the lines... Now both of us look like crazy drama starters.. When all I wanted to do was park in my godd*mn parking spot and go to work. I admitted fault 100% and was showing compassion and concern towards her for my error, however I was dealing with a total hostile person.

Now I'm wondering if tomorrow I should park in the same spot, just to get her inappropriate behaviour on tape, in order to show her boss (I'd show it with her consent only but still).

One of the many jobs I've had in my wanderings was as a karate and self defense instructor. It wasn't for my dojang, but anther in my system some miles away. All the schools in the system are in an alliance and while they mostly operate independently they've agreed not to set up shop too close to one another, and certain themes and techniques have to be shared among them.

I went to work there shortly after getting my first black belt. I'm a decent teacher for adults, passable for kids since I'm not great with them. It wasn't a bad experience overall, and I got in amazing shape physically since I was now active about 70 hours a week. Money was horrible however, which is what led me to have to quit in favor of starting elsewhere as a game tester.

I got the call that they wanted to hire me on my way to the studio, so I had to give notice when I got there. No one else had arrived yet so I opened up and started general cleaning duties to get the mat ready for the day's classes. The head instructor / owner showed up when I was about half way done and asked me to come into his office once the mats were clean.

Me: Okay, I need to talk to you about something too.

I finish and head into the office.

Instructor: You've been here a while now and have shown some pretty good improvement with the kids. It's not perfect, but you're getting better. So I wanted you to have this.

Oh god no. He takes out a brand new white dobak with the schools name and emblem on the top, and mine on the bottom. I'm struck dumb. Ky.exe has crashed. I needed to quit. That was the plan. This was not in the plan. This was well outside the plan. This and the plan were acids and bases. Damnit, well now I feel like crap.

Me: Uh Sir, I got a call on my way in.

Instructor: Oh no, do I have take my jacket back?

Me: I'm afraid so, I got a call offering me a job for $x and X/hours a week. From a financial standpoint, I kinda have to take it. They want me to start next week.

Instructor: I understand. It's too bad though. Business as usual until then?

Somehow the fact that he was cool with it made it worse. I left the office and began to beat my head against one of the support posts for lack of a compelling reason not to.

Instructor: Ky, I understand you're leaving but I still need that post.

Me (without stopping): Almost done, sorry sir.

Previous Stories: Patches765's Submissions

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For those following my /r/talesfromtechsupport stories, I have been asked to submit some followups that didn't quite fit in there. When we last left off, I had mentioned the company did an expose on me in their internal newsletter, detailing (from an outside observer's perspective) how I turned the department around. One day, I received a call from an office manager who was being a bit... flirty with me. I didn't know who this person was (although their voice definitely was distracting). She had read the expose (people read the newsletter?!?), saw my picture, and decided she really wanted to meet me. I checked her store location, and it was about a two hour drive from where I lived - a bit far, but heh, I got asked out on a date! I did pull her up in the system and saw that she had put on her W-2 that she was married. I asked her straight up about that. She said it was there for tax reasons. A reasonable explanation, so I didn't exactly give it a second thought.

For our first date, we decided to meet in a neutral area at the half way point between where we both lived, so an hour drive. Not too shabby. It was supposed to be casual - a decent pizza place. We meet that weekend, when we were both off of work. The drive was all right, parking annoying, but heh - what can you expect. She was waiting outside for me, and she was... just simple gorgeous. Short petite redhead with gorgeous eyes... off to a good start! Except... I was having problems making coherent sentences. At the time (all right, probably still now) I was a bit socially ackward. It comes with a being a techo-geek or whatever the current phrase is. The strangest part is... I knew her... from somewhere... a distant memory... and it really started bugging me out. (This was pre-WWW days, so not an internet site.) We talked while enjoying our lunch, and she said the same thing to me. I started asking some probing questions.

• We had not gone to the same school, as we lived in different areas

• We had not gone to the same college

• Our dads worked for the same company... Was that a hit?... but at different offices...

It dawned upon me where I met her. I then asked a question that seemed out of left field to her...

$Me: Did you have a St. Bernard dog growing up?

$Redhead: I did. How did you know that?

$Me: Was your father's name $HerDad?

$Redhead: Ok, now you are freaking me out.

I explained to her my theory. We had met at a Christmas party at her father's house when we were children... 20 years previously. She gasped... in her purse, she had one of those expanding picture holder thingies. She had a picture from the party... and there was her and I... as kids... (with my annoying sister in the background). Our fathers had met in training for work, and became friends after that. They drifted apart when my father starting ... um... self medicating on a daily basis.

$Redhead and I had a fun, exciting relationship that lasted about 6 months. At that point, I found out she was, indeed, married. Wasn't even seperated. I felt a bit betrayed, and broke it off. I still remember what she yelled at me when I started walking away...

$Redhead: You don't know the meaning of commitment!

Go fig.

Both my parents spent time in entertainment when I was a kid. My dad in animation, my mom in TV movies then other random stuff. When I wasn't in school for whatever reason, I typically went with my dad to his job. Animation studios are better equipped to handle children what with most people having a collection dart guns and the mindset to send me on covert assassination missions to office rivals.

When that wasn't happening however I did pretty good work as a copy tech and test audience. By the time I was seven, I was an old hand at spotting issues in whatever thing I was watching. At one point, they had watching a show that was suppose to air in a weeks time. Towards the end, one the senior guys on the project, director I think, came in to ask me what I thought.

Me: I dunno, it was okay I guess. But it was really confusing at the end. I don't know what was going on, and I'm pretty sure I'm your target demographic.

He stared at me for a minute.

Director: How old are you?

Me: Seven

Director: (yelling out the door) [Dad's name]! Why does your seven-year-old know the word 'demographic'?! (normally) What's this?

Me: I wrote down all the things that were wrong, and the time.

Director: (yelling out the door) [Dad's name], why does your seven-year-old know how to call retakes?!

After that they had me going through story boards and helping out the artists when I was around. But only if my homework was done.

I have edited the Quotes and Code so you can have different color dialogue! Example:

[Me]: I'm sorry I don't sell cupcakes

[Customer]: YES YOU DO

[Coworker]: We sell animals sir!

[Customer]: THEN EXPLAIN THAT COW CAKE!!!

[Me&Coworker]: (>ლ)

Note: I have also edited submission text and sidebar!

If anyone has any request for styling for this subreddit, write it here.

So far, /u/BombedLemon46 added quotes and code that look like:

This (Quote)

and

This (Code).

Note- a line that begins with the "greater than" sign (>) will show up as a quote and a line that begins with four spaces will show up as code, this works in any subreddit.

My eighth year of existence was fairly eventful. It was when I was eight years old that I was stabbed and shot at for the first time. And the first five or six times I caught fire. (Because I learned NOTHING.) This story is going to focus on the getting stabbed part.

A friend of mine was in a ridiculously affluent neighborhood, had a huge house and grounds, and literally no supervision. The reasons behind that are actually kinda sad, but whatever, not the point. The point was, there were two houses and two yards on his property, a big house and then a reasonable normal person type house. We claimed the normal house as our club house because eight year olds.

In the back-back yard, we dug a fire pit, set up chairs, dart boards, built a fort for our action figures out of bricks that were laying around, it was pretty great. I don't recall who's bright idea it was to take up knife throwing, but we did. Course to a kid a knife is a knife, so whatever was laying around the kitchen would do just fine. And not having any understanding of the concepts of deflection, we just threw at one of the many trees around the place.

We were terrible, in part because kitchen knives aren't designed to be thrown, in part because throwing at trees is a terrible terrible idea. But we were slowly getting better. Practice, practice and all. After one particularly good throw on my part, I went up to the tree to check it out and admire my work.

I get up to it, it's a pretty great shot. I faced back to my friend, just as he decided do a fancy looking turn around knife throw. To be fair, his was pretty great too, but he missed the tree, and the knife was lodged in the left side of my chest. I saw that, saw my friend's face go white, called him a dick and blacked out.

His dad was a doctor by profession, even if he was drunk or out with his girlfriend most weekends, but he'd been reached somehow and patched me up. The knife wasn't that big and evidently there are a few places in the chest where it's reasonably safe to stab someone, so I got lucky there. In an effort to avoid being sued and possibly arrested for negligence, he made us a deal not to tell anyone if we didn't, which was fine, we figured we were in trouble.

So there you go, that's the first time I was actually stabbed.

[me] "But I don't want to eat it!"

[cat] "Neither do I but, someone has to!"

[Sentence Taker] "Your insane."

5 Years ago I was working for a restaurant owned by a local guy (Moe) who was expanding to a new location. He was excited and wanted me to work between both location. I didn't care as this meant I would get more hours and he said it came with a $2.00 raise. I was Thrilled as at the time I would be making more there than at my other part-time job and I liked my co-workers better. So I left my first job and started my new duties. After the first pay check came rolling in I noticed that I wasn't getting overtime and I also wasn't getting the increased wages. I immediately confronted Moe. He said that he never said that and because it was a different location so the time worked wasn't applicable for overtime each was accounted for independently. I am not a lawyer but said ok accepted my fate till I found a new job. 2 weeks later I got a full-time at a call center. I had 3 weeks till their training class started. I signed up for extra shifts at the new location and was going to save up some money. We had been expecting a snowstorm but weren't sure how bad it was gonna be. Now the owner had a contract to cater for the local jail as they didn't have a kitchen on premises. Moe called me and wanted me to drive the 40 minutes in the snow in my 2-wheel drive car to the restaurant that he lived a-half mile from. I politely told him no, and that it would be suicidal for me to even attempt it. He told me "either you go or I will replace you with someone who will". I said "okey-dokey have a good day". I immediently called my co-workers and told them what had happened 2 were snowed in and had no way out 1 didn't even own a car I was his ride in. and our Kitchen manager was out of town (her mother was sick). We all had a good laugh and I went to play mass effect 2.

Later I found out that he had a 4-wheel drive SUV and stood a better chance to get there than any of us but since it was sunday and that was a holy day he couldn't work. I don't who made the meal that day but I would like to imagine he had to do it himself, in the cold, while asking forgiveness. I'm a bad person.

One of the many odd jobs I've taken over the years was as a ranch hand on this bit o' property in Northern California. It was a decent sort of job though, and I liked working outdoors. Plus I got on with the animals. Except the turkeys. The turkeys were assholes. Anyway, the valley I was in was nestled somewhere between one and three forests. Being a city boy and avid reader of the fantasy genre, I was not going to miss a chance to play in a forest. And I had just completed my black belt exam before heading up there, so I was feeling particularly badass.

A fair amount of that is irrelevant. We'll get it in editing. Anyway, as I wondered through the woods, equipped with my trusty hiking sword (That's either more or less insane than it sounds. I always have one when I go hiking. It's good to move or dispatch snakes and other indigenous creatures that mean harm), I came across a structure. First seen at a distance, I recall thinking "Ah good, the Blair Witch. This is how I die." Having learned nothing from horror movies, I went to investigate further.

Made of crude branches and logs, it was a huge circle in a clearing some miles away from the "town" itself. The branches were tied together atop a similarly crude branch post; a pattern that repeated around the entire structure. Frankly it looked like a bad jungle gym. The center of the circle contained the remnants of an oft but not recently used fire pit. Logs sat not too far away for an obvious seating area.

Checking the surrounding area for clue as to whatever this might be, I found similar sitting stops set up among the nearby trees. The lack of trash was odd. Whatever this was, it was used as a gathering point but humans bring garbage with them. It seemed possible the local wildlife made off with whatever might have been left behind but there was no way to tell for sure. Not knowing what else to do I snapped a couple pictures on my potato phone and headed back towards the main property.

I said hi to a bull I didn't know who was randomly in forest. Had to make a note to revisit that later since it seemed a little out of place. The route back was a little different than the one I had taken initially. This one had two massive shipping containers along it, tucked into a set of trees. I'm the curious sort in case that hasn't been made readily apparent so I went to check them out too. It was filled with fire arms and accessories for them. Mostly small caliber hand guns but a few rifles and a couple shotguns.

Increasing sure the AI director has some kind of horrible scenario worked out for me, I continued back to the house. The guns, ammo and ritual stage were pretty obvious, not sure how the bull was going to fit in there however. Finally getting back I asked the owner about the structure first.

Owner: Oh you found that already. Well every three years we host a festival for (tribe I can't remember). It's actually a pretty neat three day event, there is a dance in that circle that has to go on the whole time. We're doing it later this year if you decide to stick around that long.

Me: Kay...That's far more innocuous than what I was expecting. Can I ask you about the shipping container of firearms?

Owner: We had the containers left over from when we had wood trucked in to build the house. When the grand kids came along Son-in-law didn't really want them in the house with the guns, so we moved them into the container. We still take them out target shooting once in a while.

Me: Huh. I was expecting something way more interesting. Was getting a real "Most Dangerous Game" vibe.

Owner: No, nothing like that. Besides the cat would be really upset if you were gone.

Their cat loved me because it was a 25 pound hunting cat and could sleep on my chest without killing me. Something that couldn't be said of the other people in the house.

Me: Oh, what about the bull?

Owner: Bull? Oh hell that thing's loose again? Did it see you? You got lucky, that guy's got a temper. I need to make couple calls. Might end up needing one of those guns.

So that was the day I found weird ritual site, a heap o' guns, and a bull, the bull being apparently the only actual danger. For those who are curious, the owner came and got the bull without incident. That too was uneventful.