Unconscious surprise
I have a mate (honest) who, despite being in his 40s, loves to scare the bejesus out of people by jumping out of hiding places when they least expect it. His name's Lee.

On one occasion, the rest of the family (wife and two kids) were out, and he heard the car pulling into the drive. Giggling to himself, he decided to hide in a storage cupboard opposite the entrance to the lounge and to see just how badly he could make them shit themselves.

They came in, put the shopping away, wandered round the house etc, while Lee stayed concealed, waiting for the perfect moment once they had all settled down. This they eventually did, after about 20 minutes or so, and they settled down on the sofa to watch a bit of telly.

Lee's plan was to leap out of the cupboard, taking a giant stride or two, leaping into the middle of the lounge while roaring at the top of his voice. Not imaginative, but likely to be effective. Unfortunately, in the 'giant stride' phase of the plan, Lee neglected to factor in his 6 foot 4 inch height. As he embarked upon his leap into the lounge, he smashed his head on the underside of the door frame, knocking himself unconscious before he even had the chance to roar.

Thus his family were confronted with the sight of their husband/father hurtling noiselessly into the middle of the lounge, collapsing as he went, and smashing through the coffee table.

Went well.
(Bappage, Thu 4 Apr 2013, 13:07, 9 replies)

Surprisingly good effort on their part
It's been years since I worked in a supermarket but this still stands out. I hated working on checkouts but even a decade on it still gives me good QOTW answers. case in point...

Being the only supermarket in a five mile radius that didn't use electronic tagging of any kind, meant that the local lumpen-proletariat were drawn to us like the forces of darkness are drawn to Mordor. Barely a shift went by without some gimlet eyed scrote fleeing the premises with an armful of loot.

This didn't surprise me as we had what I assumed was the most ineffectual security team in the world. Two security guards who I'll name as Skinny Lazy guy and Fat Lazy guy. FLG spent most of his shift drooling over the customers cake laden shopping. what marked him out as the most dedicated of salad dodgers, aside from his girth, was his refusal to walk. Preferring to do his rounds ( a 50m round trip) in one of the electric shopmobility carts we provided for the infirm. SLG, despite weighing 9st wringing wet didn't move at all, preferring to remain motionless behind the lottery kiosk.

So it came as quite a shock when a young hoodie came running towards the main exit clutching an illicit bottle of vodka that SLG sprang into action. Having never seen SLG move more than his eyebrows before we soon found out that that he had a swift turn of pace. Cutting off the shoplifter, and running rings around him forcing him away from the entrance and down past the tills. SLG stops chasing at this point and just watches as this guy runs towards the other exit, thinking he is home free. only he has to get past FLG first. FLG looked like he wasn't even aware of what was happening, just sitting on his little cart and watching the jaffa cakes go by. Shoplifter is barrelling towards the doors, prize in hands when,

THAR SHE BLOWS, THE GREAT BEAST AWAKENS

in the blink of an eye FLG is not only out of his cart but sitting on top of the young miscreant. 50lbs of hired muscle, and I assume an additional 200lbs of hired flab is now sitting crossleged like an Indian chief on the shoplifter. The legs jutting out from the great buttocks of justice begin to kick and scream but he shall not pass. The kicks turn to twitches then stillness, the screams turn to pleas then silence, and so they remained locked in place until the police arrived.

two PCs show up after around 15mins, and FLG gets back on his cart. The coppers don't even needs handcuffs as the shoplifter goes quietly complete with 1000 yard stare.
( willenium Fist bump for verification, Fri 5 Apr 2013, 14:48, 6 replies)

Surprise Peas.
Many year ago, when I first moved out of home and was living in a lovely debauched semi-derelict share house with 4 other like-minded motor bike riding blokes, I was cooking dinner in the squalid room that passed as a "kitchen".

It was a Friday night. I was slowly moving away from the home-based rent-free lifestyle of going out the pubs and clubs and pissing my money up against the wall to the rent-reality lifestyle of staying indoors and gettng trashed in front of a nice warm fire with some mates.

We even had a video player! So, we wern't at the mercy of the 2 telly channels available in Tasmania which switched off at midnight. As I recall, we had rented Arnie's "Commando" video for the billionth time.

So, there we were in the wee hours, Enormous Bruce had smoked his usual friday night ration of dope, I had downed many,many beers as dope used to make me do something called a "white out". Beer was my thing. Enormous Bruce was a chronic pot head.

We were both stumbling around the kitchen, clumsily rustling up some sausages and gravy with mash, crashing into each other, swearing at the stove and generally taking 5 times as long to produce a simple meal. But...we needed green vegetables too, 'cos, as we reasoned at the time, green vegetables ward off all kinds of ills, like lung cancer, and cirrhosis of the liver.

Enormous Bruce gazed into the threadbare larder, brushed aside the mouse poo, reached in and prodcued a packet of something called "Surprise Peas".

Oh cool, peas. I like peas and mash. And gravy with sausages. But what are these things? These were weird peas, like little freeze-dried iguana testicles, not nice juicy fresh peas.

"No, cunt", says Bruce. "Ya gotta boil the buggery out of these little cunts".

"Oh, righto cunt" I says. "Better fucken read the packet hadn't I".

I held the packet in both hands, held it close to my face and read the instructions, gently swaying to the movement of the kitchen, lips silently moving. "Boil in water, cunt" it said.

Yeah ok, sounds easy enough.

So I get a saucepan of water up to the boil, and I'm about to rip open the pack when Enormous Bruce shouts "STOP, CUNT, STOP".

"Whassa matter cunt?" I drool, packet of peas poised over the stove.

"Fuck man, these are Surprise Peas, you gotta do it right".

"Wha? Yeah ok cunt, you do it then"

Enormous Bruces lurches towards me, grabs the packet out of my hands, produces a razer sharp knife from his within his bike boot and surprisingy carefully, considering his state of body and mind, gently slits open the packet across the top.

I lean closer to watch, frowning, slightly puzzled with this delicate operation.

Enormous Bruce slowly turns to look me directly in the eye, his countenance is deapan, calm. He slowly return his gaze to the packet, peers inside, narrows his eyes into a mask of hate and whispers in a low evil voice "surprise, peas", then tips the lot into the boiling water, cackling madly.



I don't think I have ever laughed so hard for so long at something so fucking stupid. I almost wet myself. We recovered sufficiently to pick ourselves up off the floor and enjoy a slightly burnt late night dinner, accompanied by a badly blurred version of one of Arnie's most wooden performances.

Sadly, I vomited most of it out the upstairs window sometime later, including the peas.


( Ken Oath, Fri 5 Apr 2013, 13:17, 13 replies)

Is it alright to just do a nice one?
My best mate is a big Back to the Future fan. For his 30th me, his girlfriend and a couple of other mates arranged a surprise for him. All he knew was that after watching Leyton Orient on the saturday there was a plan.

So a few of us are in the beer garden after the game, and after an hour or so we get the barmaid to tell him that his cab's arrived. He's a bit confused, we take him out and a delorean speeds down the road blaring out the BTTF soundtrack. The bloke we hired then gets out, hands Mike a bodywarmer, shirt, braces, the lot.
We bundle mike in the car, and he goes off for a drive round London in a delorean.
We then all get in cabs to central London pronto, where all afternoon his girlfriend and a few others have been decking out the downstairs room of a bar into the Enchantment Under the Sea dance, banners and everything.
We all get changed into fifties gear, and everyone else we've invited turns up all dressed up.
Eventually Mike is dropped off, and there's loads of photos taken in the delorean etc, and is then whisked downstairs, where he sees the room done up and is overwhelmed with it all.
An hour later, three of us who have been practising secretly for weeks popped out the back and grabbed our instruments and took the sheet off the drums and amps, and then play Earth Angel, Power Of Love (with Mike dragged up to sing it) and Johnny be Goode.
We then all get pissed.
One of the best nights I've ever had, and I reckon he enjoyed it. He's a lovely bloke and it's nice how easy it is to get people to put a bit of effort in for someone who is one of the good'uns.
(clinteastwoodbradfield, Mon 8 Apr 2013, 21:16, 13 replies)

Suprise reaction!
I have 2 sons, when the youngest was a baby, I thought I would play a trick on his brother.

Getting a clean nappy, and putting some (if memory serves me correctly) nuttella into it, I walked into the front room asking my wife (who was in on it) what she had given the baby for lunch. She said I do not remember, work it out for yourself....

So sticking a finger into the nappy and having a taste, I was about to declare the result when my older son retched and puked so violently it now reminds me of the WI woman on Little Britain.... it was loud and continuous.

The 'suprise' was on us, we were expecting an 'ew dad, that was gross', not something resembling the Exorcist! We were genuinely worried that he would turn himself inside out!

tl;dr Young children can be incredibly sick when you pretend to eat baby shit!
(the_icks has the sweet essence of giraffe, Sat 6 Apr 2013, 9:03, 3 replies)

Used to work in a large Post Office sorting office. There was a post box built into an exterior wall, which was supposed to be emptied for the last time at about 9pm. - very handy for those 'The cheque's in the post!' situations.
During night duties we would watch this box and collect any mail that that fell into it so as to speed it on its way, at any hour.

How public-spirited, I hear you say! But this kindly act was not without a price. If the sharp-eyed postie spotted a punter standing beside the box in the gloom, fumbling with their letter, they'd dive over and grab it out of their hand, sometimes with a sinister cackle.

The poor letter-poster would leap back, usually with a loud swear or two, and the postie would punch the air in silent triumph. Gotcha!
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Thu 4 Apr 2013, 21:37, Reply)

My eldest was 5 and had hiccups
He was a bit distressed that they wouldn't stop.

"Dad, how do you make hiccups go away?"
"Well," I said, calmly, "there are lots of ways, but sometimes a surprise can stop them."
"OK then, surprise me!"
"It doesn't work like that, " I continued, calmly, "You have to be not expecting it for it to work, otherwise it isn't a... " and then I yelled "SURPRISE!" at him at full volume.

He stopped. He went pale. He started to cry. Oh fuck, I overdid it a little. We had a hug.

"Sorry. That was a bit loud wasn't it?"
"*sniff*, yes Daddy"
"Hiccups have gone though, haven't they?"
( chthonic, Thu 4 Apr 2013, 16:57, 3 replies)

Since it's over five years since its last outing,
and notwithstanding that I'm not entirely happy with the use of the word "Pinteresque", I suppose I could pea this (and, after all, FHM did see fit to plagiarise me in 2009)...

My paternal grandparents used to live - when they lived at all, that is - in a house with a large garden. And when I say "large", I mean "measured in acres" kind of large. It was ace; there were lots of rocky bits, coppices, paths through bushes and so on - everything a child could need for hours of adventure.

An obvious trope was to hide behind a bush or rock, wait for someone to come past, and yell "BOO!" at them. One day, that's exactly what I did to my grandfather.

My grandfather, I knew, had a slightly weak heart. I didn't take this into account. I was young.

I could see him coming; I crouched in a clump of bracken. Closer... closer... closer...



"BOO!"

My grandfather looked startled for a moment - but only for a moment. He fell. He stayed fallen.
"Oh, Jesus H Macy; I've fucking killed Grandad," I would have thought had I not been only 9. "Oh, bother, I've flipping well killed Grandad," is what I probably did think.

Not knowing what else to do, I simply looked at his very still body for what looked like hours but can only have been seconds.
"Grandad?" I ventured. "Are you all right? Can you hear me? Grandad?"

Nothing.

More nothing.

Pinteresque nothing.





















"BOO!" he yelled.

I was the one who had a heart attack that day.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Thu 4 Apr 2013, 12:33, Reply)

Jumpers
My mate in his 1st year in uni lived in halls. This one evening 4 of them went for an some refreshment at the student union bar. After availing themselves of the inevitable cheap booze. One of the lads invited them back to his room to smoke some weed and listen to some tunes.
Once he got back there he plonked himself down in his comfy chair he had in there rolled an enormous spliff smoke the majority of it then passed out. This was apparently a common occurrence. He would be out cold for about 2 hours he would wake up after switching off and re-join the party. He was happy for people to roll with his gear and be in his room. Obviously he got drawn on. Things stacked on him he took it with good grace. It became clear that during these blackouts he was well and truly out for the count so they hatched a plan.
They lived in a high rise halls of residence. Every single room in these places are identical. His room was on the top floor. They had a room ready prepared stripped bare on the bottom floor. They waited till he passed out then took all his shit out an put it in the bare room. Set it up so it looked the same. Finally carefully moving sleeping beauty passed out in his chair down in the lift. Then all sat around carried on and waited for him to wake up.
When he did they carried on smoking as was the norm until they decided it was time to go to bed when they all left by jumping out of the window and going “Ahhhhhhhhhh” getting quieter.
When sleeping beauty eventually overcame the stoned shock of seeing 3 of his mates jump out of a high rise window he stumbled to the open window and was relieved and confused to see his mates alive well and pissing themselves laughing
(sittingduck Attention seeking, bullshitting fuck-knuckle, Tue 9 Apr 2013, 11:52, 4 replies)

BBQ Bruce
A colleague told me that he’d once gone to a neighbour’s house for a BBQ.

When excusing himself to go to the toilet, his neighbour said “The bathroom door sticks, you’ve have to push it a little.”.
Sure enough, the door resisted, so in his words “I gave it a bit of a shove with my shoulder.”.

One broken lock and a rather surprised neighbour’s wife seated on the throne ensured he didn’t get invited back again.
(Kliper Filllets Getting noticed by twats on the internet since, Fri 5 Apr 2013, 7:27, 2 replies)

Not a patch on Enzyme's, but at university one of the girls in our shared house was not a student, and worked nights.
As such, it was always a bit weird encountering her at 7 or 8 in the morning, when she'd be cooking some chili and pouring herself a glass of wine for her "evening" meal.

One day I'd decided to skip lectures and wank instead, or similar - whatever the reason, I was left alone in the house that morning.

I heard her key in the door, and thought of a lovely surprise for her.

"Hellooo!" she called, as usual.

The silence that greeted her was unsurprising, and thus she made her way down the hallway, her heels clicking.

Hung up her coat.

Bag onto the bannister.

Walked into the kitchen.

Where, from the understairs cupboard, I jumped out, as my lovely surprise, screaming "RAAAARRRRRR!"

She smashed me 'round the face and ran upstairs to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her, where I found her sobbing heavily; she slapped me again, and refused my attempts to put a comforting arm around her.

Bitch. Crying is NOT winning.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Thu 4 Apr 2013, 12:50, 4 replies)

Gaylene Krumins
Known as "Bent Fabric" in memory of a one-hit wonder pianist of the sixties was generally regarded as a nice girl but slightly dim. She was given to a tad too much make-up, hanging out with the junior chamber of commerce crowd, tootling around town in an iridescent purple Austin-Healey with chrome wheels and practical jokes.

She painted the inside of her toilet a very, very pale blue. The surprise came when you switched the light on. 200 watts.
(Redemption blamed it on the Bossa Nova since, Sat 6 Apr 2013, 5:39, 2 replies)

BOO!
(FartThroughAWalkieTalkie wished you were dead in ditch on, Fri 5 Apr 2013, 9:28, Reply)

Clive Barker broke my toe. [Didn't realise it was a bit of a roasted pea!]
Back in the day...
Must be late 90's early Noughties. I had win2000 server (with most of the services turned off) installed on a box with a nice pentium3, 512mb ram, a couple of 10gb drives and a screamer of an nvidia agp card. Swish! This was around when I started dabbling with linux and dual booting. Fucking dual booting!

But I digress.
I'm a bit of a night owl - once I wake up that's it. Because of this I often spend time quietly on the computer early in the morning.
Back then it was to play Clive Barker's Undying. In the dark. With my headphones on. With my wife in the room to the left of me and my infant daughter in the room to the right. I sit there on my big fitball (apparently better for the back than a chair) downloading pr0n and games off a local bbs and dialup.
Now Undying is not a "scary" game but it's got some good sound effects and you can get quite immersed in it. There are a few moments where ghosts suddenly appear. A well as that my missus used to complain that when I left it running with the speakers turned up the sounds would creep her out (it was a loop of ambient noises and the scary monkey things howling).

I'm sitting there headphones on, bouncing around and about 2/3rds of my way through the game at about 0200 one morning when I've inadvertently woken up the missus.
She's creeped into the room without me noticing and has positioned herself behind me watching me play. Slowly and carefully she leaned over behind me, lifted my headphone up and whispered "BOO!" into my ear.
Just as a ghostie suddenly appeared on-screen.

I shouted out loudly, bounced up off the fitball, landed heavily on it - which caused it to pop after which I fell onto my arse heavily on the floor and as Newton's law stipulates as I fell down my foot shot up under my desk, kicked it with a force related to my weight suddenly plummeting thru the space left by the lack of fitball. And broke my right big toe.
I woke up the bub and the missus had to drive us to the local emergency - my right big toe was nearly the size of an orange at this stage and got it looked at.
From then on in that house she always stood in the doorway and announced herself before coming into my computer room.
(Misery McUglywife an attention seeking sociopathic fuckstain., Mon 8 Apr 2013, 9:19, Reply)

A bit of a dull one.
I was just driving home from work, just now, and I went through the drive-through at MacDonalds for a junk food fix. As I was waiting for the stupid MILF in front of me, driving a large 4WD, to finish complaining loudly to the till monkey at the window about the quality of the deep fried apple pies, an old memory resurfaced.

Not really a "surprise" story as such, but still, something a bit poignant.

My last share house (again, many years ago) was rather crowded. About 7 of us lived in a 4 bedroom house, next to a busy road. One of the girls was a bit of a party chick, a bit rough around the edges despite coming from a "new money" family and having a very expensive education. Foulest mouth I've ever heard, lots of random sexual partners and completely selfish. Apart from that, she wasn't bad company, despite the faint whiff of stale semen and cigarette breath.

Anyway, one Saturday night, she's all dolled up to go to a posh 21st party. Some bloke called Andrew. As she told us many times while troweling on makeup, it was a select affair, rich family, invite only, only old private school chums allowed. She catches a taxi, all excited with the prospect of rubbing shoulders, and other bits, with some of Brisbane's most eligible batchelors.

Within a couple of hours, she's returned home, in a rather subdued mood.

We are all sitting on the sofa / floor / spare milk crate watching telly, a little surprised to see her return so soon.

My housemate Jeremy asks her "so, was it a good party Fi? You're home early...alone...sober...everything alright?"

Fi looked a bit distant, a bit shell-shocked. "Not really, everyone pretty much left straight after Andrew got completely blind, and thought it would be a hilarious party trick to jerk off the family dog".




Fucking Classic. Still makes me laugh.
( Ken Oath, Fri 5 Apr 2013, 16:41, 6 replies)

The chicken dance
Some years ago, I met a Californian girl who was travelling the world. She had met a friend of mine overseas, and he'd invited her to stay with him in the UK for a while, a few weeks later. She turned out to be a good laugh, and I was sad when she had to head back to the States.

A day or two before she left, however, out of the blue I was offered work in San Francisco. Which, as it turned out, was the same area she was from. And so a plan was hatched: once there I found out where she lived, and set off to surprise her. After convincing her house-mate that I wasn't a mad axe-wielding stalker - I think the British accent helped there - I discovered that she was in a local bar with a group of friends. So I went there, walked up behind her, swung into her eye-line and said a cheery "Hello!"

Now consider this from her point of view. She's back home, and her travels are probably already seeming rather dream-like and unreal. She'd met lots of people, but probably never expected to see any of them ever again. Seeing me in her local, just a few days after leaving me 9000 km behind, must have been a cognitive dissonance of the highest order.

She boggled in a most satisfactory way. In fact she started to run around in circles, flapping her arms like a demented chicken and screaming "Oh my god!!". Then she spent the next half hour alternately giggling and punching me for freaking her out.

We're still friends. Even though she says I sound like Jamie Oliver.
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Fri 5 Apr 2013, 11:12, 5 replies)

Hallowe'en (slight repost)
I used to open the door to trick or treaters with this playing while wearing this costume. I actually made a child piss himself one year.
( MatJ LOOK, Thu 4 Apr 2013, 18:56, 9 replies)

Halloween
G/f's kids are going trick or treating, I'm chaperoning as the "responsible adult", making sure they only go to houses with pumpkins and decorations in the window (i.e. the ones inviting trick or treaters) and making sure they don't get asked to come in by some nonce and so on. They (the kids and their friends) are five moppets all under ten, dressed as a selection of mainly adorable ghosts, vampires and witches and similar. I, a six foot, ninety kilo, not-fat adult human man, am wearing a black morphsuit. I look, in the early evening darkness, like a hole in space, or an animated shadow detached from whoever's casting it. Possibly. Whatever I look like, it is undisputably fucking creepy. It's especially creepy when I'm standing silently at the back of said group of kids, and they've all helped themselves to the sweets and choccies and gone on their way, and I just... stand there. Motionless. And the kids (or adults) handing out the sweets look at me uncertainly, not quite sure if I'm real, I think... and then I leap forward, give them a cheery wave six inches from their faces, say "THANKS!", and run off. At least three kids cried. Harmless fun on Halloween...
(SonofRojBlake, Thu 4 Apr 2013, 18:48, 1 reply)

This is pushing the theme slightly
but I was suprised recently by my 2-year-old daughter's vocabulary.

"What are you doing, daddy!?"
"I'm trying to park the car".
"Fuckinell".
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Mon 8 Apr 2013, 16:16, 7 replies)

Hello! Aaaargh!
What's that tread 'pon the stair? Is it Mrs Flatfrog returning home? Let me welcome her affectionately by flinging the door wide just as she reaches it and shouting a fond 'Hello, sweetie!'

Oh. She screamed like I was Norman Bates and now she's crying hysterically. Not quite what I was aiming for.
( flatfrog Staring vacantly into space, Thu 4 Apr 2013, 16:50, Reply)

Dawn of the Dead
I hate horror films but my mate really wanted to see Dawn of the Dead when it came out (he's disabled and I go as his carer - not that he really needs one!).

Sat down on the back row with my litre of Pepsi and a bag of Revels ready to endure my least favourite film genre.

First scary bit? Fucking Revels went everywhere. Showered about 10 people sat in front of us.

Never. Lived. It. Down.
( Blackdogmanguitar is out with Fat Larry's Jazz Band on, Thu 4 Apr 2013, 16:42, 3 replies)

He's a cool skateboarder and he's just knocked you over
Coming back from the local disco I often used a skateboard to get home, it was mostly uphill to the disco and going back it was such fun to board it thru the city centre in the early hours. One night I was on my way home and very drunk - you might think it is dangerous to skateboard when hammered but not so - all you do is surf down those hills with carefree abandon, never lost my balance once.
Er...As I was saying, there I was zooming downhill across a wonderful new marble stone surface, thoughtfully prepared by the Council for this very moment when I saw some drunken guy (probably as drunk as me) relieving himself in a doorway. As I approached I began to calculate whether or not I would make it past before he lurched out of the recess. Just as I got near and to the point where it was impossible to stop he did exactly what I feared and blocked my path. I put my hands out and with a mighty shove (I was doing about 10mph) hurled him back into the doorway and kept on boarding down the hill. Naturally I looked back to see him picking himself up and mouthing obscenities but gravity kept me free from harm. My surprise at him getting in the way 2/10. His surprise at being propelled back to the puddle of piss 9/10.
(luckylife , 0 guests and 3 bots are online, Mon 8 Apr 2013, 17:43, Reply)

( Zuowan, Sun 7 Apr 2013, 7:17, 20 replies)

Metaldeath
My cousin once replaced the Rod Stewart CD in my Gran's CD player with a Metallica CD. She got quite a surprise when she went to listen to Rod that night...
(Sick Boy likes to swear a lot, Thu 4 Apr 2013, 17:38, 3 replies)

I once was invited to a a barbecue
Arriving at the address, I went inside. I could hear the people chatting in the backyard, so I helped myself to a beer from the fridge, and noticing the day's paper, I sat down on the couch and started reading the sport. The backdoor opened and woman walked in, saw me, and screamed, dropping her basket of laundry. Turns out I was in the neighbour's house
( cumquat may will not be commenting further on the allegations, Thu 4 Apr 2013, 17:18, Reply)

Screamers
Just thought of this. Me and my friend used to search for internet screamers, usually found on sites like AlbinoBlackSheep, or the old Wimp.com, before it turned to utter shit. This was way back around 2001-2005. These aren't the surprises I'll be going on about, but some particularly good ones we found were 'Colour Blind Test', the 'K-Fee Zombie Ad', 'What's Wrong With This Picture?', and the Scary Maze Game.

Anyway, I'll go on about the first time I found a screamer; unintentionally. I was around 5 or 6 years old, on my sister's computer upstairs, alone, in the dark. The glow of the screen probably illuminating my face, stuck in a trance like state, exploring the internet and it's wonders. I found myself on Wimp.com, looking at various flash games and videos. I found one I hadn't seen before: Where's Waldo?

Like a fucking idiot, I clicked on it. I had NO idea it was a screamer, had the sound turned all the way up, crouched over trying to get a better, closer look at the screen. I was like a cow willingly going to the slaughter; bemused look on my face, mouth agape in a grin, looking around with child like wonder. The aim of the game was to find Waldo in the picture. I went right up to the screen, trying to find Waldo, but he was nowhere to be found! Bare in mind, I had no idea what screamers were (or that they existed) at this point in time.

After a minute, sat in the dark in silence, I began to feel a little creeped out; an eerie chill passing over me. That's when the face of the devil from the Excorcist popped up on the screen, accompanied by a loud fucking scream. Needless to say I was fucking surprised. So surprised in fact, that I fled downstairs, crying my eyes out, screaming for my Dad. I refused to go back upstairs. I eventually did, gripping my toy lightsaber, ready for whatever lurked in the dark, sniffling and near-hyperventilating. I must've looked a right twat.

And so began my love for screamers...
(Sick Boy likes to swear a lot, Thu 4 Apr 2013, 14:05, 4 replies)

I thought
it was just a fart.
(username failed moderation, Thu 4 Apr 2013, 12:57, Reply)

I hate surprises
I really do. It's nothing to do with this I just hate the whole idea of them.
I LOVE planning them for other people as they seem to make them happy but not me, no thanks. I tend to guess what’s happening and ruin it anyway.
It was my birthday, when we were young and carefree. My bf at the time took me to my best mates house for the evening (I knew it was a party before I got there) and I knew I was going to have to act surprised.
She lived with her parents, and her parents, lived in a swanky bungalow.
It was so delightfully mumsy too. It was typical Liverpool over the top, ‘bling’ before bling was a thing. Big white sofas, lots of Lladro, thick cream carpet, sumptuous and looking expensive.
I came through the front door all innocent and into the hall…oh it’s all quiet and dark, we must just be here for dinner with my one friend
We then came into the living room and suddenly OH GOSH SURPRISE 6 of my mates are here and its all my birthday and amazing!
They threw open the patio doors and 2 others are in the back garden…Setting off fireworks!
OH JOY!
They have ROCKETS! IN MILK BOTTLES…
And there they are ….not secured by soil in any way at all.
They spark into life, as I see myself in slow motion going 'Nooooooooooooo'
One goes into space HURRAH!
One falls over
In our direction
Into the house
OH FUuuuuuuuuuuuck..
And oh fuck it was.
That rocket came to say hello, to the perfectly painted walls, to the nice cream sofa, to the carpet OH THE CARPET. Before it faded with a full hearted smokey burning explosive burning fart into firework oblivion. AND EXPLODED all up in your face and their nice perfect smell burn free living room.
We looked at each other, for what felt like months…..Mouths agape….rigid with fear.
Then I started laughing…I couldn’t stop, and in between crying and laughing, managed to squeeze out a giggling ‘hahahasuprhahahhhhise’!!
( Herb Alpert's Taxi Driver I have very beautiful lips, Mon 8 Apr 2013, 23:00, 6 replies)

Game over on account of lost child.
Going back a few years now... Around the time that our daughter discovered the joy of hiding behind corners, under covers etc. and suddenly appearing shouting "Happrise!" (as she did).

On a rare day where my, the missus and Little Scrote all have the same weekday off from work/kindy (LS is about 4-5) we decided to head out to one of our less attended op-shops for a "mooch" as the missus likes to put it.
Now when we go shopping like this with the bairn normally she'll be sent down to the toy area with strict instructions that if she's good she may pick a toy and any mess she makes is her's to tidy up. Between the 2 of us parents we make sure that we are always within direct eyeline/ earshot of her.
I'm looking at the books and I see an Iain M. Banks book I don't think I've read before so I reach down and grab it. Score! $2! Nice.
I glance over at the toys. No sprog. I call out her name softly but loudly enough for all of the shop to hear. Nothing. Staying where I am I call across the shop asking the missus if she has seen her - "Nope, she's down at the toys last I saw." Nup.

Parents, you know that feeling you get when something is wrong with your child. Your stomache feels like it's dropping and your heart feels like it's jumping out your mouth, your bowels loosen a little and your 'fight or flight' responses kick in? Yeah, that feeling.

As I'm walking up and down the aisles looking under the racks of clothes my reasoning kicks in. The front door has a chime and no-one's been in or out of it since we arrived so I know she isn't out the front of the shop where there is a busy 4-lane road. The staff area out the back that leads to a shared alleyway has a couple of volunteers working which surely would've noticed a 5 yo. toddling by. By this time the lady at the till has spoken to my missus and is also walking around the shop with us shouting my girls' name and peering into places here and there. I've also spoken to the 2 old biddies out the back - they assure me that there is no way she could wandered past without them seeing.

I head out the back and go up and down the alley checking behind bins calling her name - the shop keepers from the neighbouring shops, a haberdashers on one side and a hardware store on the other come out an inquire as to what's going on. I very quickly weigh up my daughter's knowledge of "Don't talk to strangers" against the fact that she could have somehow got out of the shop and be wandering. So I appraise them of the situation and they then join the search through their shops and out the front and back.
Only 10-15 min. has gone by, but it feels like hours.
By this stage I've done a full circuit of the set of units and been thru 3 shops calling out my daughters name loudly. Several other people have done the same. I can see my wife is close to crying and I'm starting to get that "I've lost all control of this situation - maybe now is when I should panic" feeling. I'm scared, incredibly guilty and completely unsure of what to do next, even writing this now my palms have gone clammy and the hairs on the nape of my neck have prickled. I am literally dialling 112 into my mobile to inform the police when I notice a pile of curtains and linen jiggling in a most un-linen like manner. I rush over and lift it up to find Scrotley sitting there with a plush toy giggling.

"Happrise!" she shouts and jumps up, full of the joy of a child that has successfully hide-and-seeked their parents. I don't think I've ever felt such conflicting emotions - joy and happiness at seeing my daughter safe and well, and annoyance at what she's (inadvertently) put us through. I try desperately hard not to scold her. The missus and I just hold her and craugh (cry/laugh). All of the people from the shops come to check that she's ok - I thank everyone profusely and weather the "Bad parents" looks I get from a couple of them.

The book was "Excession". Not his best but I'll miss him when he's gone.

EDIT: For the childless/humorless/witless out there - often young children bastardise language as they are learning how to speak correctly, hence "happrise" instead of "surprise" and in this case it's not a speech impediment and she appears to have mostly grown out of it. Doesn't stop some words from becoming part of the families lexicon tho.
(Misery McUglywife an attention seeking sociopathic fuckstain., Sun 7 Apr 2013, 0:11, 8 replies)

Hairy Tits!
A few years ago, I was with a new gf and we'd got naked together for the first time. It was cold, so we were making each others acquaintance under a lot of blankets. It was very dark under the blankets.
I put my mouth to her nipple and found that it was spectacularly hairy. Not just a few unkempt straggly hairs, although that would have been unpleasant enough, but really bushy. And kind of greasy, too.
I may have paused, just momentarily, but I managed to contain my surprise and carry on. Thoughts flashed through my traumatised mind, along the lines of 'I hope I don't puke. I don't want to upset her, it's not her fault. She has trusted me with the knowledge of this hideous burden, what kind of bastard would I be to reject her now?'.
I moved my head a little and all the nipple hair slid out of my mouth as though it had come to life.
That's when I realised that I'd been sensuously nibbling her nipple while using the end of one of my stinking dreadlocks as some kind of improvised protective barrier.
Of course, this all happened years ago when fucklocks were totally cool.
Length? Well I only had a few at the back of my head, but they were well over a foot long!
( 4Q just lurking, Fri 5 Apr 2013, 23:25, 6 replies)