Once during the school summer holidays, myself and a couple of friends went to the local disused brick quarry with our air guns for some pop can/bottle killing action.
Me and two others had crappy little .177's, my best mate had a .22 rifle
We split up looking for something else to shoot, my friend with the .22 thought it would be funny to play sniper and hide behind an elder tree some distance away and shoot up high at the tree I was standing next to.
The spring in his BSA Meteor wasn't what it used to be and the shot dropped low and got me in the tatey sack. It was some time before I was able to breathe properly and assume an upright posture from the both hands over crotch foetal position I occupied on the quarry floor for apparently over an hour.

I have a worse tale from a former workplace about a past collegue of mine.
Some of the sparkies thought it would a laugh to grab said colleague and apply a wire brush to his knackers in a typical workshop humourous horseplay manner, result was he ended up with a torsion, the knacker died from lack of blood and had to be amputated and replaced with a prosthetic so his sack didnt look embarassingly one sided. It was fucking hilarious for the rest of us.
(Finster Ate a cat biscuit for a bet, Thu 7 Mar 2013, 16:58, Reply)