tabasco attack
who would have thought that the comedy reaction you'd expect from giving someone a teaspoon of tabasco sauce while sleeping -
licking lips, slurping, split second delay - horrid burning awakening followed by amusing pain filled bemusement and angry realisation

- is exactly what happens.
(magictorch, Mon 20 Feb 2012, 13:58, Reply)

Me and a girl from our neighbourhood
used to pass times of boredom by finding sticks and pricking up half-solidified dog poos and depositing them in the mail box.
( mediocre ha ha ha, you're reading this, Mon 20 Feb 2012, 13:34, Reply)

Just to look at him, after all these years...
This is a Random Act Of Evil which is still to happen. Let's just route this through the wavy-lines visual effects bus and take out the chrominance...
~~~~~~~~~~~~
The year is 1969, I am five years old, blessed with truly glorious copper-coloured hair, and sitting in primary school in north London for storytime. A completely evil bastard child called Simon, in the same class, had developed a severe need to destroy me in any physical way possible based on the colour of my hair and, over a period of several months, had beaten me, kicked me, given me bloody noses, and been utterly crap toward me, to the extent that his extreme bullying in deeds and words had once made me shit myself in class. The teacher, by the way, did very little even after my parents complained about Simon, because Simon's mother was a teacher of another class in the same primary school. The last straw was that, while sitting cross-legged waiting for storytime to begin, the scum that was Simon walked over and kicked me in the teeth, with a wallop that splattered blood over the mat. Luckily, my parents knew a good dentist. The kid was eventually moved to another class. But I never forgot. Ok, move the wavy lines fader again, chrominance back up...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I've found Simon on 'Friends Reunited'. He's quite open about running a company that hires out stage kit in west London. Well, I never. My own work often involves hiring that kind of thing.

So I'm going to hire something from him. Nothing too fancy; something that will be hired and returned without a problem. But when I return it to his company, I'll make sure he's there: his company isn't so big that he can't handle the return paperwork himself. And I'll face him, and see his name on the paperwork, and he'll see mine. And I'll say,

"Thanks for the hire. Worked perfectly. Oh, Simon, do you remember Suburban Primary School, Class 2? You wrote about it on 'Friends Reunited'. [Pause] I was the red-headed kid, in the same class before you were moved in 1970. I remember you. [Pause] Must go: the parking ticket's up."

And then I'll leave. Straight away. He'll have my email and phone number if he needs to say anything.

I forgive easily if someone is sorry. I've done too many crap things in the past to be short on forgiveness. But I shat myself, and was crying in the mornings, scared to go to school sometimes because of the bastard that fellow was, back then when he was little but vicious. I'd like him to have some time to think about what he did. Perhaps he already has.
(Sky Channel 760, Mon 20 Feb 2012, 13:14, 25 replies)

Mud Bombers
A couple of months ago on my way home from work I was mud bombed by two scallies on Arundel Avenue in Liverpool.

It was about 6 O’clock on a windy Wednesday in November, I had just gotten the bus back from Widnes and was making my weary way home past the wall at the back of the graveyard when I noticed something strange, on the pavement in under the streetlight there was quite a lot of mud, “funny” I thought, “how has that gotten there?”

Being tired and anxious to get home I thought no more about it until as I passed under the streetlight a huge clod of earth smacked me on the head. I looked up and saw two lads, about 13 or 14, staring over the wall. They had climbed on top of the electricity sub station and were waiting to ambush passers by below with handfuls of mud and moss. The little bastards.
(superkitty is neither super nor a kitty, Mon 20 Feb 2012, 12:36, 8 replies)

Using the power of the mind for evil...
Many years ago I was out with a mate on the Malvern Hills, as we were walking along a path at the north end of the hills (near St Anne’s Well for anyone local) a family with young children came into view walking along the path parallel to, but just above, ours. The paths were coming close to joining up and the kids were having a whale of a time running along the path making a lot of noise and engaging in general childish merriment, as kids are wont to do.

I don’t know why I did it, or why it worked, but I leaned over to my mate whilst looking pointedly at one particularly rowdy child and said “fall” and as I did the child tripped over and tumbled 10 feet down the path.

He was unhurt and, apart from the initial “waaaaaaaah” reaction to the shock of just falling over, recovered quickly and returned to his games with no ill effects. I was shocked at this to say the least and although I did try again it out later that day (it didn’t work therefore quashing any telekinetic powers I may have been hitherto unaware of, which was kind of disappointing really) have always felt rather guilty about the whole situation.
(superkitty is neither super nor a kitty, Mon 20 Feb 2012, 12:21, Reply)

On Saturday
I was putting the bin out in the shared industrial bins ( I live in a Flat so we are share the same large bins)

Upon lifting the lid - after the waft of smell passed over me, I found - sitting at the top of the black bin bags - a cat... sitting up proud on the top of the rubbish. We shared a moment, I placed my bag in the bin. I looked at him, he looked at me, then realising I hated Cats, I shut the lid back down.

and walked away.
(Dan dan dan They tik urh jerbs!!!, Mon 20 Feb 2012, 12:21, 2 replies)

As a doctor, people take my opinions on things, and my diagnoses very seriously.
Sometimes, for a bit of a laugh, I'll tell people they've got cancer.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Mon 20 Feb 2012, 12:08, Reply)

"Random" acts deserve swift and vicious payback
I played rugby with my brother on Saturday. After the game I came out of the shower, dried myself off, and was about to get dressed. It was then I realised my boxer shorts were missing. I assumed I had accidentally packed them in my kit bag, so decided to go commando for the afternoon.

I got dressed whilst hanging free and as I went to put my shoes on, I couldn't find them. I looked everywhere for them as I remembered looking at them as I left thinking I had put them in a stupid place. I asked if anyone had seen them, and saw my brother turn around and start laughing. I pestered him and turns out he had hidden them, and my boxers, in the rafters.

All very random etc...

My payback was evil though.

As it was my first game in a few weeks due to snow and ice, my feet were a bit sore, and I had some blisters. I peeled the flapping skin off one of them, and when he was not looking, slipped it into his beer bottle. He poured out the bottle into a glass and began drinking. It was only when he got to the end that as he took his final swig, he nearly choked and spat it back.

There, sat at the bottom of his glass was a lovely bit of foot.

Payback was sweet.
(The Kwyjibo A big, dumb, balding North American ape., Mon 20 Feb 2012, 12:02, Reply)

One of the members of our student house wasn't a student at all.
She was a night-shift worker at a packing factory.

As a consequence, she tended to be leaving for work just as we were going out to the pub, and sometimes would wake the sluggerbeds among us (surprisingly few) in the morning with the smell of her cooking chili or whatever for her tea.

One day, everyone had left the house for lectures except me, and I was pottering about in the kitchen doing something or other, when I heard her key in the door.

"Hellooo!" she called as she came in, to see if anyone was about.

With all the good intentions of the hilarious jester I am, I kept quiet, and hid behind the door, listening as she slung her coat and bag on the hooks, and came down the corridor to the kitchen.

It was quite a long corridor, the house was completely silent, and her footsteps echoed throughout from the bare wooden floor.

In she came, up to the sink, filled the kettle and "RAAAAARRRRR!" I jumped out at her for my lovely joke!

She flew about two feet into the air screaming at the top of her voice, and ran up the stairs to her room, where she sat weeping and shuddering with fear, as I ran after her apologising profusely oh dear god apologising apologising apologising.

Bitch. Crying is NOT winning.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Mon 20 Feb 2012, 10:57, 4 replies)

Aged 13, or so,
my brother was sitting, alone, watching The Thing, taped off the telly from the night before. I'd sat up and watched it, so knew where all the scares were.
Loving brother that I am, I planted myself behind his chair and waited for the scene where the doctor loses his hands, jumping out to grab my brother at just the right moment.
Once he'd climbed down from the ceiling, he saw the funny side.
( monster munch person, man, woman... camera... TV?, Mon 20 Feb 2012, 9:59, Reply)

Just after leaving Uni
I found myself unemployed and what with day and night meaning very little, I discovered that my breakfast time coincided nicely with night-club opening hours.

I started off just heading to this one place for a couple of drinks, I'd have to eek out each one so I didn't blow the whole giro in one night, but I became someting of a regular and the staff seemed to like me.

One evening the club started running burlesque nights, which drew a crowd, and it was during one of these that I got to know two of the performers, who went by the stage names Sophie and Stacey Valentine, their act consisted of plenty of whips and leather.

We got on well, but I could see they weren't getting a very good deal out of the club, so using all my best "just finished university with a 2.1 in business management bluster, I offered to be their manager. Stacey turned me down flat, but not the other one, and that's how I ran domme act Sophie Val.
(GoodLord doesn't have time for sigs., Mon 20 Feb 2012, 8:55, 4 replies)

For my birthday
my daughter bought me an Airzooka. It shoots out a vortex of air, basically like a smoke ring moving really fast.

If you fart into it you can crop dust someone from twenty feet away.

Just sayin'.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Mon 20 Feb 2012, 5:00, 1 reply)

Just this weekend
Myself and the lady friend were at an older style pub which houses an old glass and wood telephone booth. The girl was clowning around and jumps into the booth to make a call on her phone. Que me stepping into the box and unleashing a devastatingly horrendous fart and before she could react exited and held the door shut firmly to the sound of her slowly weakening protests.
Take that.
(technocore, Mon 20 Feb 2012, 1:14, 9 replies)

I am a twat
Going on operations with the army is a lot like marriage, lots of fun at the start, and then periods of utter boredom punctuated by occasional moments of excitement.
This was the case when my unit was shipped out to the Balkans at the start of the Kosovo campaign. As Engineers we were responsible for going out first and arranging the infrastructure in Macedonia for the incoming troops. As I said at the start lots of fun at the begining, then we quickly descended into periods of utter boredom waiting for, well, anything to happen.
When squadies get bored we do one of two things work out or really work out. Our section commander at the time, Stevo used to run round the vehicle park for an hour, come back to the troop area, re hydrate then shower. I thought it would be funny if i switched his water for a water bottle filled with methanol alcohol, a clear liquid we used to top up the vehicles washer bottles.
On cue that day, Stevo went for his run, I switched bottles, he came back an hour later, took about 2 - 3 massive gulps then started throwing up.
At that moment we were all calling him all sorts, just generally taking the piss until the vomiting went on and on and on.
Medics got involved, an investigation happened and i was bust.
To this day I cant tell you why I did it, Stevo was a brilliant section commander and still remains a friend to this day, was it evil or me just being a cunt???????
(Hammy1801 may have scabies!, Mon 20 Feb 2012, 0:34, 9 replies)

In my naive youth
I used to give food to homeless people. Nothing fancy, I'd usually just buy a multi-pack of chocolate bars (rockies, kitkats etc) and hand those out.
One day I was strolling along merrily and spied a likely looking hobo, complete with blankets, filthy paper cup etc. I popped a kitkat down onto the hat in front of him and started to walk away when he started shouting at the top of his voice. It was mostly incomprehensible, but I heard a very distinctive "What the FUCK is this?" as he hurled the bar into oncoming traffic, looking and acting as though someone had shat on him, rather than given him food.

Although it wasn't really an evil act, it scared the shit out me at the time, and since then I've never given food to the homeless, not because I think all homeless people are like that (I know they're not) but because, well, once bitten twice shy.
(JennaTaylor is gleaming like a well oiled Danny DeVito, Mon 20 Feb 2012, 0:07, 2 replies)

I once..
Picked up my neighbours foot, with the help of his brother, and forced it into a pile of dog poo. He ran in and told his mum what had happened, only for her to say don't be so stupid, and stop telling lies.
I don't know why we did this, and I still feel puzzled by it to this day.
(lordy lordy, Sun 19 Feb 2012, 23:51, Reply)

At our workplace we have the usual custom of people buying everyone cakes when it is their birthday. As we have a night shift it is usual for some cakes to be left in a fridge and a message sent to the night shift about the cakes and who they are from.

Do you know of the bottles of stupidly hot chilli sauce that you can buy ? They come with names such as "Insanity Sauce", "Death Sauce" etc etc A little bit licked off a cocktail stick is enough to blow your head off.

Anyway, we have a bottle of such sauce at work, and using a needle and syringe (the lab has them) we injected some into a lovely looking jam and cream doughnut. It was carefully done with the needle being slowly withdrawn as the sauce was injected, so as to get a even distribution inside.

The loaded doughnut was left with the others on a plate in the fridge.

When the night shift next rotated on to days we asked them about the cakes. The unwitting recipient said he took a big bite and swallowed. He realised something was wrong but not before he was onto his second mouthful. He spat it out thinking the cream was off, before the heat hit him.

He saw the funny side.

However the upshot is that no one ever dare trust any food that is left for them.

Random ? Well we didn't know which member of the night shift would get it.
(Bitter and Twisted, Sun 19 Feb 2012, 21:24, Reply)

The Ring
A few years ago, my flatmate and I had saw The Ring at the cinema. That night I snuck into his room when he was asleep, plugged in his telly and switched it on at high volume to a channel full of static.

Hilarity ensued as he suddenly woke in pure fear.
( Sipowicz Official member of Team Seam, Sun 19 Feb 2012, 20:19, 1 reply)

Hopping Mad
My local swimming pool has one of those changing village things, with a few cubicles and a lot of lockers. The principle is simple enough - change in a cubicle, clothes in a locker - but there are always a few selfish prats who leave their clothes in the cubicle when they are swimming.

On one occasion I got there to find only one unoccupied cubicle - and that was left full of clothes. Hah.

The woman in question left the pool about half an hour before me. She was still there when I got out. She was still there when I got changed. She was still there when I finished my coffee. She was still there when I drove off.

I found out later that it took her almost three hours to find her shoes, pushed to the end of one of the training canoes stored above the lockers.
(ubergeekian, Sun 19 Feb 2012, 18:48, 5 replies)

At school
This story took place in the PE changing rooms, your typical drab affair, mildewy grey tiles and the (not so) faint aroma of BO and despair. I must have been in year 9 at the time – puberty had hit various people in our class pretty much at random so we had a couple of people pushing 6 ft and others still at about 4 ft.

One class I deliberately took my time getting changed into my kit for PE to make sure I was the last one out the rooms. We all stored our clothes in little piles on benches round the room (no lockers or anything for us!) so I swapped the trousers of the shortest kid in the class with the trousers of the tallest kid in the class.

It was pretty funny at the time, and probably one of the most random evil things I’ve done. I honestly don't know why I did it, neither of the people in question had done anything to me and most of my acting out at school had some kind of reason, even if it was a dumb one. It was probably just boredom, either that or like most kids I could be a little shit sometimes.
(Fredz A graveyard of hopes, a dump of ambition, Sun 19 Feb 2012, 13:44, 6 replies)

cheap laughs
when i lived in a high-rise block in a rough area, i spent many a happy and stoned hour watching smackheads trying to prise up the 50p i'd superglued to the flagstones outside the block.
yes, i know this is pretty much the diet coke of evil, but hey, i was bored and smashed.
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Sun 19 Feb 2012, 13:28, 7 replies)

Seemed like a good idea at the time and the statue of limitations is up so...
2am in California means you are done drinking. After a jovial night down at the pub with some friends, the lights came on and it was time to go home. There was a cheap pleathor jacket still hanging on the coat rack and we were the last ones there.

"Anyone's jacket? Cheap pleathor jacket? Anyone?" I announced. But by this time everyone had left. After a quick inspection of the pockets I found a massive key ring. With a Porsche key on it.

My friends and I checked the parking lot. No Porsche. However there was a Volvo parked behind the pub. And after a closer look there was a Volvo key on the key chain. Originally we were just going to leave the jacket and keys in the car. When we opened the trunk we found hundreds of Christian rock tapes. I was young and drunk and suddenly inspired by the Christian tapes.

"Follow me in your car. I wanna see the airbag deploy." My friends were also drunk so they thought it a great idea. So I drove the car into the hills a few miles away. Hitting a telephone pole at 35 miles an hour sounds easy, but when you intentionally try to get the car going that fast and square up with the pole there's some reflex that just won't allow you to do it. Unfortunately there's another reflex that won't allow you to chicken out when 3 of your friends are goading you on.

Wham! I hit the pole going about 25. Pow! Airbag in my face. Cough cough! Airbag fumes. I popped out of the car and into my friends car where I was greeted with dropped jaws and wide eyes.

Something terrible happened to my knee that still bothers me to the day. Of all the stupid, dumb, evil things I have done, this one stands out. Yeah it's kinda a Honda Accord post, but unfortunately it's true.
(anotherlogan and the whit he shites, Sun 19 Feb 2012, 11:15, 13 replies)

Being shafted by the other coach.
Last year I put my hand up to coach my daughter's soccer team. About a month in one of the other dads who was on the club committee decide he wanted to coach his son so while I was away on leave he split the team by age group (leaving me the lion's share of the kids no less) without consulting me.
This year we're both on the committee and the same guy has "bumped up" his son and a few other players to my daughter's age group. He expects to coach the team. That's mostly his evil part.

I've simply pointed out to the club president and committee that as incumbent coach I should have "dibs" as I already have a good rapport with players/parents/other team's coaches etc. and have a proven track record with this team, I've also pointed out that I have more coaching qualifications/experience than he does and I've been in touch with the majority of the parents of returning kids that I coached last year - most of them would prefer me to coach over him. That's my evil part.

I am prepared to compromise where I coach a team and he coaches another within the age group - we have the numbers. Apparently he isn't. May the best man win.

"Fight."
(Misery McUglywife an attention seeking sociopathic fuckstain., Sun 19 Feb 2012, 6:58, 15 replies)

Also, the same mate
said he was going to rip all his CDs at a higher bitrate. But whilst he wasn't looking, I changed the settings on Windows Media Player so it ripped them as WMA instead of MP3.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Sun 19 Feb 2012, 1:57, 6 replies)

Last time I was at a mate's house
I smeared a small amount of boot polish on the lens of his webcam, so that the next time he went on Chatroulette, nobody would be able to see him masturbating furiously along with everybody else.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Sun 19 Feb 2012, 1:56, 1 reply)

Lying to the police
I was once asked by some members of law enforcement if I knew the where abouts of some wanted persons.
I assured them that I did not and that those with me were also not involved in anyway.

Little did they know that those with me where infact the droids they were looking for
(wehttamman via B3ta for microwave, Sun 19 Feb 2012, 0:26, 9 replies)

Once, when I was a nihilistic 12-year-old...
I was walking through a housing estate near my school. I happened upon a discarded carrot (which must have been dropped by someone heading home from the local shops). Near to the carrot was a foul pool of doggy diahorrea.
In a fit of needless, wanton twuntcakery (which ran contrary to everything I had been taught vis-a-vis right and wrong) I picked up the carrot, dipped one end into the foetid puddle of excreta and shoved it through the letterbox of the nearest house, taking care not to get any of the shit on my hands.

That was 16 years ago, and I'm still racked with guilt. Many adults are neurotic because of traumatic things that happened *to* them while they were kids. My neuroses are self-inflicted!
(blotchydave, Sat 18 Feb 2012, 21:38, 2 replies)

My fellas hass issues getting out of bed..
..so I routinely play loud music on my Android via Youtube, right next to his ear. And by 'music' I mean horrible things like Yakety Sax, Agadoo, The Mr Blobby song, Barbie Girl, The Fast Food song, Hanson, Doop, and so many more horrible things.

Could be considered evil, depending on your point of view.
( Evilsprinkles Shitting glitter, Sat 18 Feb 2012, 21:32, 2 replies)