Hold My Beer! 45 Tales of Adventure & Mischief You Couldn't Get Away With Today!
Released 12.17.14 - ISBN: 0-9825563-7-3
I don't know how I lived through some of the things I did when I was younger, or how I avoided getting into trouble for them. I do know, for an absolute fact, that you could never, ever get away with most of this today.
We should all have a book of adventures, a collection of stories that are our moments we love to look back on fondly and laugh.
The stories you are about to read are true; the names have been changed to protect the guilty. If I ever offended anyone with the things I did, consider this my apology.
Now, hold my beer...
WARNING: Contains salty language; read at your own risk!
Excerpt: The Babysitter
I heard this story from my mother, as I was, obviously, too young to actually remember it; however, as you will soon see, it sets the tone for most of the rest of my life.
I was not even quite a year old, and my mom had gotten recruited to teach at the church’s Vacation Bible School. She really didn’t want to do it, being that she had me at home, and she was relatively certain that they didn’t have a babysitter who could handle me. But the church persisted that the woman who took care of little kids in the nursery would certainly be able to handle me; she was well-known as a children’s caregiver. She had taken care of hundreds of children and had no problems; she could certainly handle me.
So, my mom agreed and left me in the nursery at the church while she went to teach VBS.
At the end of the first day, she came to get me, and the babysitter came up to my mom, carrying me at arm’s length – not the way you’d carry a baby at all – and thrust me at my mother.
“Don’t you ever bring this child back to me,” she said, and turned and stalked off.
My mom never knew what it was I did that day, but it must have been epic in order to scare off an old pro with kids like she was; I mean, how much trouble could one boy possibly be…?
Excerpt: The Paperclip
In the fall of 1962, I sat, bored, in a classroom in Kinzua, Oregon. For the past several weeks, the other boys and I had gone on a kick of launching paperclips with big rubber bands stretched between our fingers. It really didn’t matter where we were; we practiced shooting paperclips – slightly bent in order to clear the rubber band – well, just about everywhere. In class, out of class, at home, in the playground… anywhere we happened to be when boredom struck.
This particular day, we were supposed to be studying, but boredom had settled in on me and I was looking around the classroom, not really paying attention.
That’s when I noticed Helen Gordon bent over Clifford Nelson’s desk, apparently asking him a question. Helen was a nice girl that I didn’t know very well, but she seemed nice enough. But my pre-teen mind instantly became engaged by the sight of her rather voluminous rear end crammed into a pair of impossibly tight pants. Bent over as she was, the pants were stretched drumhead tight across the expanse of her ample behind.
Boredom fled from me like cockroaches when the lights turn on, and I nudged my buddy, Brad Dunn, next to me and said those two infamous words: “Watch this.”
I lifted my hand, rubber band stretched between thumb and index finger and pulled by bent-up paperclip back almost to my ear. The guys on either side of me watched – eyes wide – as I let my metal projectile loose.
A split second later, her scream rent the air and the whole classroom erupted into cacophony.
The force of impact sent her sprawling across Nelson’s desk, the un-aimed missile hitting – as though computer guided – right on the seam of those tight pants, splitting them straight down the middle.
I had just enough time to hide the rubber band before Nelson leapt from his desk, yelling and screaming, looking for the perpetrator.
But it could have been any of us; as I said, we had all been zinging projectile paperclips with rubber bands for weeks. It wasn’t like we had been hiding it, and we were all armed.
I felt pretty bad for poor Helen; she had to go home and change her pants. I didn’t know her well enough to say anything to her, but, little did I know, it was not the last time I had a date with her bottom.