I avoided having to kill anybody
by fly tipping on Thanksgiving.
( P-MONKE We're all fucked, Wed 28 Dec 2011, 10:06, Reply)

While I'm at it.
You gain a finch, you lose a finch.
My mum & I house-sat for some of her workmates (there's a story in my posts if you cbf). It didn't end well.
They had an aviary. Which had an airlock type (2x) door system.
Whilst we were staying there I came across an injured finch which I put in the aviary.
1 day my mum went into the aviary leaving both doors open. As I had warned her on more than one occasion not to.
Of course the injured finch escaped and fluttered pathetically over the road (as I tried to chase it).
Straight into the "over-the-road" neighbors cat's mouth. Literally.

Fortunately
No tame animals were harmed in the telling of this story.
Despite her ability to fly a plane, drive a rally car, run an IT dept. lecture @ TAFE & uni & get a Phd my mum seemed to miss the ability to follow fairly simple instructions.
(Misery McUglywife an attention seeking sociopathic fuckstain., Wed 28 Dec 2011, 8:07, 7 replies)

the war on slugs
My last garden was like a slug minefield.
It was a tiny garden but must have contained well over 200 of the little fuckers. I think they came in after the rabbits food. Woe betide you if you went outside in bare feet. The feeling of stepping in a slug is unforgettable - you feel its cold slimy body squelching under the pressure and then it bursts sickeningly and guts squirt up between your toes.
I tried a few times killing them all to prevent their return. Made no difference at all. After salting them for a couple of nights all the little corpses had either dissolved or been eaten leaving huge gobbets of slime everywhere. It looked like an elephant had sneezed.
(teasus likes tea, Wed 28 Dec 2011, 6:46, 3 replies)

Magnus killed & ate Mrs. Weeps.
Growing up in deepest darkest Africa. I didn't live with my mum, but visited her regularly. She had some dogs, one of which was a pure-breed Great Dane whose title was (from memory) Magnus The Magnificent of Merridale - otherwise known as Maggie. I also had a hutch with a guinea pig in it called Mrs. Weeps ('cause she went "wheep, wheep, wheep" a lot.)
The door to Mrs. Weep's hutch was at little boy torso and Great Dane head height. One day whilst I was feeding Mrs. Weeps some lettuce Maggie decided he wanted some Mrs. Weeps. He fully knocked me out of the way, head in the hutch and a screaming Mrs. Weeps down his gullet before I could react.
Fucking hated that dog after that. Serves me right tho cause I was the poor bastard that had to bury him a few years later after he had died in his sleep. I'm talking about a very big fucking dog.
(Misery McUglywife an attention seeking sociopathic fuckstain., Wed 28 Dec 2011, 3:20, 4 replies)

Cuntry boy
When I was a kid, my mate's grandad lived in a cottage flat next door but one to us. I always thought they were mean and miserable, him and his rat-faced wife (strangely enough, Neil agreed with me, probably for the following reason).

When he was about eight, Neil had two pet rabbits in a hutch in his garden. One day his grandad (who always fancied himself as a bit of a country boy) came round when his parents were out. He told Neil it was time he saw how Nature worked, took the rabbits from the hutch, broke their necks, skinned them and made a rabbit pie.

Haven't seen Neil for years but he always did have more than a few problems. Probably why.
(zebideedoodah likes florence but prefers venice, Wed 28 Dec 2011, 1:08, Reply)

The wish of Death (Alt title: The roadkill circle of life)
My mum & I were pootling thru the back roads of north Queensland (this one incident happened on the stretch between Mt. Isa & Cloncurry - but it was one of many.)
As we were barreling along in the distance mum could make out a hazy brown blob on the road.
As we screamed closer at 110km/h it became apparent that the brown blob was a very large wedge-tailed eagle eating some roadkill in the middle of the road.

As we hurtled towards it it became very clear the this monster bird was not going to relinquish its fine dining experience anytime soon.
As our now braking car careened towards the inevitable interaction between flesh and metal this majestic beast slowly unfurled it's wings (all 7 ft. of them) and gently at the last possible moment rose up off the road and beyond the reaches of vehicular bird-slaughter.
We skidded to a stop and got out to watch the birdy gently drop to the roadway and resume picking at what was probably another (slower) wedgie's gizzards.
Apparently they're renowned for this behavior and supposedly very few roo-bar equipped cars or trucks will stop or even slow down for them as this can cause accidents. Last time I experienced it was driving up to Kalbarri a few Christmases ago.
I guess a large part of the evolutionary model for wedgies is to have absolutely spot on timing otherwise you may well be the next meal served to the table whilst playing roadkill roulette.
(Misery McUglywife an attention seeking sociopathic fuckstain., Tue 27 Dec 2011, 23:21, 2 replies)

I once gave a haring impaired friend a kind of tartan skirt for men as a gift.
That was my kilt to deaf.
( Dr Preference AjcuiVd289, Tue 27 Dec 2011, 22:16, 2 replies)

I wish they new the highway code!
Driving home from work one night....and a badger runs into the road, I try to swerve but I get it dead centre, shakes me up a bit and on the way to work in the morning he's there in the middle of the road brown bread.

Wife takes the car to be cleaned....turns out the badger managed to take out a fog light while depositing some cranial matter on the car. Wife has a screaming fit at me when she returns because it all washed out at her feet! nice.

The other time was years ago while I lived at home....had a big pond in the back garden and it was party central for frogs (the green kind not the french!) so coming home late one night, opened the side gate and my foot slipped out from under me while I heard a squichy snapping noise. Yep....one dead frog....screamed like a girl (me not the frog) and went inside, poor dog got into trouble for it as she bought it in for my parents! sorry Poppy!
(Lip Up Fatty Fatty Reggae still loves BBQ food on, Tue 27 Dec 2011, 21:51, Reply)

A mole
One fine day, the cat is running around acting weird. On investigation, I discover he's brought in a mole, uninjured, which has managed to scuttle under the fridge.

I shoo away the cat long enough to poke the mole out from its hiding place and into a box, hoping to take it down the bottom of the garden and chuck it over the fence. Unfortunately, the bottom of the box falls out as I'm carrying it, said mole falls out and hurriedly burrows its way into the ground with the cat running after us.

The easy option here is to let the cat dig up the little bastard and finish it off, meaning a slow, painful and terrifying death for the mole, and me having to pick bits of it out of the carpet. Either that or it escapes and completely ruins the garden.

So I fetch the biggest hammer I can find, hurry back to the patch of lawn that's still moving and hit it hard. Repeatedly. Then let the cat dig up the body before confiscating and binning.

The cat sulked for a while, but at least it was quick and clean. (Edit - the killing, not the cat)
(lolwhites, Tue 27 Dec 2011, 20:51, 2 replies)

The first animal we saw in the 'W' national park
Clearly I’m not going to miss a chance to trot out another Africa story, but strangely I managed not to run anything over in all my travels which is pretty remarkable given the distances travelled. Roxana who travelled with me and Richard for the first leg of the trip, and who is a strict vegetarian, was not so lucky.

Wavy lines etc.

I’ve driven though thirty or so countries in Africa and I’ve always made time to visit the national parks where I can, so I reckon I’m making a pretty well informed statement I when I say you should not waste time in the ‘W’ national park in Niger.

Despite the best efforts of the locals Africa surprised me with the amount of wildlife I saw outside of the parks. Once, driving in arid Northern Kenya along a road famed for its bandits, where supposedly every living creature had been hunted to extinction I saw a pair of Gerenuks. In the depths of the jungles of Congo I saw elephant (well bits of elephant in a sack to be accurate). But in the first two hours of driving in the W national park we didn’t see anything larger than a small bird.

Roxana was driving, me in the other front seat, and Richard in the back with the guide. Suddenly in the middle road we all spotted the first real animal of the day – A tortoise. Me, Richard and the guide all claimed the sighting and pointed, but Roxana just turned around and said “where?”. There we two distinct bumps as we ran directly over the tortoise with front and back wheels.

I volunteered to walk back to inspect the damage. The shells on these animals are pretty tough, but then again the Camel weighed in at three tons fully loaded. I returned to the car to report that surprisingly enough it looked like it was going to be OK, though it was leaking slightly. If you’re reading this Roxana, I was lying.

www.camelworld.com

Length? 18 months and 70,000km
(strongp, Tue 27 Dec 2011, 17:15, 4 replies)

Bats
I used to work in a well-known UK safari park, tending to the mammals and creepy crawlies; I used to get bunged into the twilight area occasionally, which involved feeding and tending to the large area of free flying bats, telling dipshits not to bring food in less they be mobbed by fruit-bats, stop using flash on the nocturnal critters etc etc.

Now, im a big, 18stone bloke with size 14 boots, we tell people, the bats wont harm them or touch them, but its a lie, spend over 20minits in there and you will be slapped about by bats no end, for, sad reasons...

Anyhoo, I was merrily plodding along one day to feed and mid stride - swoop - crunch - a little one flew right under my massive work-boot, I managed a half-step-dive so as not to totally crush it, the poor bugger was still alive but I didn't have it in me to stomp down again - he was dead for sure anyway, so I popped him in the freezer instead.

I walked like I was on eggshells foreverafter that!
(Sennor, Tue 27 Dec 2011, 15:54, 1 reply)

The first time I saw a kangeroo...
My grandparents live in Oz, I was excited to visit them and see the crazy down under wildlife.

It's getting dark, we're winding our way through the roads of Queensland on they way from airport to Nan's home. So, being a young pommy lad, of course I ask about koalas and kangeroos. I am laughed at and told that I'm more likely to see a koala in a zoo.

"What about Kangeroos?" I asked eagerly.

"They come out mostly at dusk or dawn, you're gonna need to get up early for those." Grandpa chuckled, weaving the pickup truck round the tabletop mountains.

Then we saw something in the headlights, but we were moving too quick to make it out and it made an almighty thud as we made contact with it.

There was a shape on the road behind us, not in the middle but off to one side, but we didn't get out to move it or anything. Grandpa reversed up a little, took a quick look out the window and drove on.

He said something about it not looking quite right.

When we got to the house he got out and inspected the front. There was a lot of blood on the bumper bit and flickers leaving a bit of a trail, over the roof and into the back of the pickup.

And that is where I saw the head of a freshly decapitated kangeroo.
(MrTeapot hasn't played with himself since, Tue 27 Dec 2011, 15:08, Reply)

Partridge
Partridge stood in the road, me driving happily along "He'll fly off." I assume.

Turns out I assumed wrong, and saw him dissapear under my car, caught a glimspe of him in the rearview mirror, stood in the same spot but without a head.

I felt like a monster.
(Mong goose, Tue 27 Dec 2011, 11:01, Reply)

My first day of work. Ever.
13 yrs. old.
Working at a stud out in the sticks.
Boss took me out into a field with a horse lying on its side - clearly crook. Apparently lame.
Handed me a shotgun & asked me if I'd ever shot 1 before (as in a shotgun). "Only once before" I said.
"Shoot this horse" he says. "Now".
"Put the gun up against it's head cause if you miss we're in for all sorts of trouble"
So I did. It wasn't nice, fun or clean. I also didn't feel like a big man.
Cunt only paid me AUD$50 for 4 weeks work - but he said I worked harder than his strapper. Then again that wasn't hard.
(Misery McUglywife an attention seeking sociopathic fuckstain., Tue 27 Dec 2011, 10:50, 2 replies)

Mamma...

( enoughblueskyforsailorstrousers, Tue 27 Dec 2011, 10:48, 5 replies)

Vehicular Animalicide
For some obscure reason, animals thought it would be fun to have me run over them. This included one kitten, one possum, and two birds.
The kitten was a driveway incident.
The birds were both taken out on a long journey, a few hours apart.
The possum was a stunner. It came down from a tree - fell? pushed? - right in front of me. I tried a left swerve, but caught it on the bumper by the headlight (bits of fur were stuck there) and the impact ricocheted it into the next lane.... where its airborne flight was brilliantly lit up by an oncoming NZ Post long-hauler prior to it exploding against its grille.
Sort-of like the biker at the end of Mad Max 1.

That was about 20 years ago, and nothing else has hit me since.
Yes, hit me.
I did not deviate from my trajectory, those silly buggers got in my way.
And paid the ultimate price......
(Sebulba continues to fight evil with evil....., Tue 27 Dec 2011, 10:44, Reply)

I killed a lot of insects when I was a nipper
I fucking hope the buddhists don't turn out to be right. Still, no mammals on purpose. I look out for me own. Fishing is suprisingly gory, mind. It's bloody hard to kill an octopus, especially when it's flopping around in the bottom of the boat with the dog barking at it and it staring at you with those remarkably sentient big eyes. takes a fair bit of stabbing
( cumquat may will not be commenting further on the allegations, Tue 27 Dec 2011, 4:30, 1 reply)

Bullshit. City slickers, this is harrowing

( enoughblueskyforsailorstrousers, Tue 27 Dec 2011, 4:24, 7 replies)

Nope.
Still harrowing.


(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Tue 27 Dec 2011, 4:09, 3 replies)

Maggoty banger
In the distant past, a friend and I decided one day that we'd try a spot of fishing, having gotten a kit from argos for a tenner. We ventured into the local fishing shop and asked for some maggots, and not having a clue what we were doing asked for a pint of them.

Obviously, a pint of maggots can go a long way if you're thinking of spending a whole weekend fishing I guess, but if you're just pissing about for a hour or 2 before getting bored, it's rather a lot. So having returned home from a shit time trying to fish and catching fuck all, we still had at least half a pint of maggots left (the other half being spent throwing at each other, and only 12 or so actually used as bait).

Not sure what else to do with the remainder, we took them home and came up with the idea of making a maggot banger. Making the banger was simple enough (the old red caps split down the middle method), so all we had to do was attach the maggots to it, so we strapped them to it using the remainder of the electrical tape, planted it in the garden and set it off.

The whole of the garden and some of the neighbours was covered in crusty maggots, which to be honest, was all a bit grim. After that event, I've never bought maggots or tried fishing since, it kind of put me off them, and I even felt a pang of remorse for all those needless deaths.
( flapmeister knows where your mum lives, Mon 26 Dec 2011, 22:49, 3 replies)

Killed to DEATH
1) One day whilst playing with my dad's air rifle, I wanted to find out what would happen if you shot a bird. So I aimed for a sparrow on the washing line and shot it. The pellet went through its neck, dropping it to the ground. It died slowly and defecated everything in its system. Since then I've never shot any birds.

2) One morning, on the way to work, a squirrel ran towards the front wheel of my 50cc chicken chaser moped. I couldn't veer away, it literally headed towards it, as if it wanted to kill itself. Scooter went over it, and it painfully spasmed itself towards the side of the road. I turned around back for it, as it was clearly in pain and I should end it's suffering. By the time I got to it, the squirrel had already died.

The strange thing was, was that roughly a year later, on the same road, a car reversed into me and sent me flying off my scooter (writing it off). Spent the rest of the day in A&E so someone could x-ray my shoulder.
(Lukeo, Mon 26 Dec 2011, 21:54, 2 replies)

a gull...
when i was about 13-14, as it flew over i shot it with my air rifle, no idea why it did it other than childish stupidity, it landed on the roof of the supermarket next door

...decades later i'm wondering if it was actually an albatros
( empire of the pussycat requires more champage, Mon 26 Dec 2011, 17:07, 2 replies)

I worked as a "gardener" for a church
My brief was to hack out several years of neglected growth and create a perpetual bonfire that lasted for weeks. One day, knee deep in a bush I was supposed to be tearing out, I noticed a small black plastic pot, the kind you get in garden centres. I nudged it with my foot intending to chip it out. It wasn't empty. Inside was quite literally a pint of snails. Lucky i noticed, I thought, that would have been terrible (& messsy) if I'd have give it a good kick...
Taking a step back I put my big boot stright down on another planting pot. It went crunch and squelch at the same time. I didn't dare look.

The birds were happy.
(CADmonkey rollllllllled another one, just like the other one, Mon 26 Dec 2011, 10:02, Reply)

Sally's post prompted me.
When my mum died part of her legacy was boxes of oxycontin.
She hated taking it cause it bunged her up and then she had to have colox & senna & shit like that - not what a proper English lady/Phd Dr. like her should have to suffer!
When she went into palliative care I had to all but carry her to the passenger side of her flash Toyota Celica (SR-02) & drive her to the hospital. I (and many others including friends & neighbors) had kept her fed, going to appointments and living at home for quite some time when many hospitals would've accepted her.
She was 2 days before she had a bung & was catheterized. A few days later she died.
A couple of days before she died & the last thing she said to me (there is a story) was "I know what you are trying to do."
After years of fucking up I really managed to kill my mother's trust in me.
Maybe she should've been honest with me about who my dad was...
EDIT: I took them to the chemists to get destroyed much to the chagrin of my mate Ron.
(Misery McUglywife an attention seeking sociopathic fuckstain., Mon 26 Dec 2011, 8:18, 1 reply)

I choked Linda Lovelace. Sorry.

(yourmumonastickwithmintsauce, Sun 25 Dec 2011, 20:46, Reply)

Box O' Kittens
We were walking along a road when a group of five feral kittens appeared from the bushes on the other side of the road. We admired them from the distance and cooed "Oh, how pretty!" We lured the curious kittens onto the road, where they were promply smashed by a passing car. They weren't dead yet, however, so we found a cardboard box and arranged their broken bodies in a cozy circle, in what we hoped was an appealing way, rang the doorbell of a nearby home, left the box on the doorstep, and quickly departed.
(Perv With A Dog had his eyes pecked out by scrub jays on, Sun 25 Dec 2011, 17:36, Reply)

ants. lots of ants.
imagine, if you will, being woken from a lovely slumber by a persistent itching on your face. bleary-eyed, you scratch the offending area, only to have something lodge under your fingernails. still half asleep, you inspect your nails to find out what was on your face.
it was an ant.
just like all the other ants that, you now realise, are swarming over your bed.
there's a fucking ant's nest in the bedroom wall where the cavity wall insulation should be.
i do not need to imagine this.
after screaming like a colossal fanny and leaping out of bed, i ran into the living room, where my friend was asleep on the couch(we'd been to a party the night before and he'd stayed).
"there's fucking ants all over the bedroom! the little cunts were crawling all over me! where's the number for the council? someone's getting a bollocking for this!"
grumbling to himself, my mate tossed me my address book and sat up, rubbing his eyes. "ants?" he asked.
"yes! millions of the fuckers!" i replied.
after being on hold for 10 minutes and doing the full-body shitting-dog shiver at least five times, i was put through to someone who proceedede to be as much help as a condom machine in the vatican. he informed me that, as ants aren't dangerous, i'd have to pay £50 for them to remove the nest.
i disagreed, quite vociferously. my mate slipped on his shoes and slipped out of the house, presumably for breakfast-type junk food and to give me a wide berth until i calmed down. i continued to argue the toss with the phone monkey.
after another ten minutes, we were no closer to a resolution. suddenly, my friend strolls back in and plonks a can of ant powder down on the table.
"don't fucking bother," i tells council cunt, "i'll deal with it myself."
my bedroom wall is now insulated with a combination of woodlice, dethlac and about ten million ant corpses.
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Sun 25 Dec 2011, 16:56, 12 replies)

Siamese Cat
I accidentally killed a friend's cat when I was about 10. It was quite an expensive cat, too. I was running around outside his house, jumped down a flight of stairs, and it ran under where my feet were coming down. It didn't die straight away, but its injuries were so serious that the vet had to put it down quickly.

I was more upset about it than my friend's parents, who were more irked over what it had cost - she was a blue-point Siamese. (They were quite rich people, didn't think to send me the bill).
( bnt what, me worry?, Sun 25 Dec 2011, 13:01, Reply)

God this is a harrowing question.
Here are some kittens.


(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sun 25 Dec 2011, 1:58, 7 replies)

Whilst using a kango to rip up the back patio
I realised that I had uncovered a hollowed out shelter in the concrete in which a toad had taken refuge. His bottom jaw hung limply on the floor and it was clear that in the eternal struggle between amphibians and power tools the boggle eyed pond lounger had once agin come off second best. So what to do, leave him to starve as he was no longer going to be able to eat, seems a bit cruel; smack him over the head with spade, quick but messy; put him in a box and hold it over a car exhaust, yes that seems humane. It worked but took a lot longer than I thought, remarkably resilient for a fly eater. I sometimes wonder if he just died out of sympathy with my lack of executioner's skill.
( number5 has been fighting tramps and losing., Sun 25 Dec 2011, 1:29, 4 replies)