dead ringers
The joyful simplicity of I Have Ran Out Of Coke’s ‘Wank Alarm’ post reminded me of a tale of mischief from my youth derived from something as simple and mundane as bell wire. Mooching around in my room one day as a sullen teenager I must have been quite staggeringly bored – so bored I decided to pull back the carpet just inside the door of my room. There I spotted some bell wire running along the strip of wood that separated my bedroom from the rest of the known universe. Being an odd child it was only natural I had a chisel in my bedroom. With nothing better to occupy my curiosity I pushed the point of the chisel onto the newly found wire. I suppose I did get a bit of a start when the doorbell immediately rang. A few more tries and I had worked out the metal of the chisel was contacting with the wires, closing the circuit and ringing the doorbell. It was at this point I also noticed my mum’s footsteps along the hall. She opened the front door with me listening intently behind my bedroom door, after a brief pause and probably some head scratching the door closed. I gave her probably just enough time to get back to the sofa before I rang again – this time she shot along the hallway and flung the door open.

Fast forward an hour or so. Dads on point peeking out the window looking for ‘the wee bastards’ and Mum is alternately crouching behind the front door for 5 minutes at a stretch – each time she gave up her vigil and stomped back along the hallway I would ring again which would prompt another frantic dash along the hallway the front door being flung open. The hardest thing was trying to keep a straight face when she would charge into my bedroom asking if I had ‘heard them running away’. Soon enough my frantic parents were at each others throats, cursing each other for their inability to catch ‘them’. Fair ruined their Sunday afternoon.

I think it was the only time I have ever heard my Mum swear.

I kept this up on and off for months to come – just when my mum thought ‘they’ had left her alone another ‘campaign’ would begin. Any time my parents pissed me off, any time I stomped off to my room in a teenage strop: 'The Ringers' would return. Nasty little bastard i was.
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Fri 21 Aug 2009, 1:57, 6 replies)

hahaha
It's a good thing that the doorbell wasn't running on regular household voltage. That may have tickled a bit.
( Grampa, Fri 21 Aug 2009, 3:07, closed)

This
is excellent.
( 100% Cock Raw like carrots., Fri 21 Aug 2009, 12:19, closed)

Oh dear,
Just as well the rest of the team aren't about. Laughed like a loon! Double clickage. I could just picture you stifling the lols as your folks ran like loonies to the front door.

Genius.
(Che Grimsdale Best before:, Fri 21 Aug 2009, 14:36, closed)

Evil, twisted, cruel
Superb!
( stopmeandslapme Cometh the hour, cometh your mum, Sat 22 Aug 2009, 9:01, closed)

*Applaudes
sititng on my kitchen floor stifling giggles so as not to wake guests. Brilliant! Clicked :D
(DreddPirateBob has watched every scifi film ever on, Sat 22 Aug 2009, 9:25, closed)

I like this
I like the benign evilness. I like the way it is told. I like the picture of your parents trying to catch the little shits. I like that you continued to do this for years. I like that you did not get caught.
( Sextant goes to him is emotionally erect, on this day, Sun 23 Aug 2009, 4:32, closed)