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A collection of stories curated from different subreddits, adapted for NAR.

Taking “Wild & Unruly” To The Next Level

, , , , | Legal | CREDIT: Pavel1562 | November 19, 2020



This summer, my dad and I decide that we will go shooting at a nearby range. We have a gas pistol — like an air rifle — which in our country you don’t need a license for. This pistol can only shoot blank or gas cartridges, but we have also a special attachment for the barrel that allows us to shoot a flare, pyro, etc.

We go to the range and shoot a few pyros and flares. Then, when I have just loaded a new flare, a woman around forty years old and her son around eleven approach us from behind, about twenty feet away.

Woman: “Excuse me!”

Me: “Yes?”

Woman: “Could you please let my kid shoot?”

We have some restrictions on the guns. One, you must be at least fifteen to shoot the gun, and two, for you to be able to shoot the explosives from the gun, you must have paperwork, which my dad has.

Me: “I’m sorry, but I can’t let him shoot. He’s too young for that.”

Woman: “No, he’s not! He is seventeen!”

Kid: “Mum, let them go; we will rent one right there.”

My Dad: “And do you even have the paperwork to shoot explosives from it?”

Woman: “No, but you do, right?”

My dad rolls his eyes.

Woman: *Angry* “JUST GIVE ME THE GUN!”

Me: “No, and you don’t even have the paperwork.”


And she grabs the gun from my hand and PULLS THE TRIGGER. The flare goes off right on my T-shirt. I put the fire down and shout for security. When the woman realises what she has done, she grabs the flare box and Usain Bolts from the range, going toward the forest. Her son just stands there, frozen.

Here comes the security guard.

Security Guard: *To me* “Are you okay?”

Me: “Yeah, just the shirt is a bit ashed.”

Security Guard: “Where did she go?”

My Dad: “Into the forest.”

This range has a kennel. There are two dogs that are trained to find guns and people. This is because the people have been trying to sneak out with guns or ammo. My dad is an off-duty officer, so he gets a dog and he and the security guard and they go to find her. The kid and I follow behind.

After about fifteen mins of searching, the security guard spots the woman hiding in a bush.

Security Guard: “Look, she is right there!”

And the security guard unleashes the dog. It runs toward the bush where the woman is. And just before the dog gets there, the woman stands up and shouts:


And she shoots the dog. The dog howls in pain as the explosive pyro explodes in its face.

Security Guard: “Hands up!”

The woman was tackled to the ground, apprehended, and later charged for assault, stealing, and injuring a police dog. The dog lost an eye. At court, the woman got a total of FIFTEEN YEARS in prison.

This story is part of our Best Of November 2020 roundup! This is the last story in this roundup, but if you’d like to read more of our favorite stories, you can always check out October’s roundup next!

Read the first story in the Best Of November 2020 roundup!

Read the Best Of November 2020 roundup!

Don’t Write Checks That Your Arms Can’t Cash

, , , , | Legal | CREDIT: unfunny_comedian1192 | November 18, 2020

I am a man in my thirties. I live with my sister, who is in her twenties, and I am officially registered as her caretaker. I am a big, intimidating dude. My sister, by contrast, is 4’11”, 89 pounds; she’s naturally tiny and looks much younger than she is. She also has cerebral palsy and epilepsy. Her anxiety disorder tends to amplify her seizures; she has at least one a day. Her seizures are usually not noticeable since they are not stereotypical seizures. Some days are better than others.

We are on our usual grocery run. We head to checkout and I realize that forgot the eggs, so I leave my sister in line; she is having a good day and is not in danger of having a seizure in line.

Upon my return, I see a woman pushing my sister out of the way, pushing our cart to the side, and replacing it with her cart.

Woman: “Children shouldn’t be in line. NOW, GET LOST!”

I’m normally a giant teddy bear — I love hugs — but no one talks to my sister that way and gets away with it. I grab my sister and pull her close to me to protect her.

Me: “Touch my sister like that again and I’ll f*** you up so bad your kids will be born with my handprints on their face!”

Woman: “How dare you accuse me of—”

Me: “I watched you assault my sister! Do you normally harass tiny women with disabilities?!”

The woman then tries to punch my sister! I rotate my body and she hits my back instead. She tries to attack again, so I grab her arm this time and twist it behind her back. I feel her forearm break and immediately let go.

I hold my sister and try to make sure she’s okay. She isn’t; she is in one of her seizures for a minute. She starts responding right before the general manager arrives. The woman is screaming.


General Manager: “The authorities have already being called.” *Picks up a radio* “Call an ambulance, as well.”

Woman: *Clearly in pain* “Arrest him! I want him arrested.”

Sister: *Crying* “She assaulted me first! My brother is my caretaker; he was just protecting me!”

Me: “Camera footage, now!

General Manager: “I’m no medical professional, but you definitely broke her arm. You two come with me.”

We go to the manager’s office. The manager reviews the footage and sides with me.

General Manager: “That woman will be permanently banned from this store. We don’t condone anyone assaulting anyone. I don’t know what the cops will say, but I’m sure this counts as self-defense.”

The manager leaves the room and comes back with two cops. The cops get our side of the story and one cop escorts us out of the room while the other reviews the footage with the manager. A few minutes later, [Cop #1] comes out and tells his partner something, and [Cop #2] leaves.

Cop #1: “The lady says you broke her arm for no reason, and she wants to press charges. But your story matches the footage, and what you did is classified as self-defense and as defending a disabled person. You are off the hook. Now, do you want to press charges?”

Me: “Do you want to press charges, sis?”

Sister: “I don’t know… I want to go home.”

Me: “I will press charges. But can I file them after I make sure my sister is taken care of?”

Cop #1: “Yes, absolutely. Here’s my name and a note about the case; take this to the station, within the next twelve hours, preferably.”

A few months later, we went to court. The judge sided with us, and the woman had to pay all legal fees and pay us $40,000 in damages. She also served some jail time.

Jail Would Have Been Less Painful Than The Embarrassment

, , , , | Legal | CREDIT: TwoFruit | November 17, 2020

I have been in the service industry for about four years now. I’ve had my share of rude customers, complaints, and the occasional — but mostly rare — dine-and-dashers. It’s part of the job, nothing I take personally.

One night, I have a two-top arrive about thirty minutes to close. These two seem like they are on their first date; I can tell off the bat that they haven’t known each other for very long. They are extremely polite and don’t need much attention, so I figure it’ll be an easy table. These two get full-course meals. I’m talking multiple alcoholic beverages, appetizers, baskets and baskets of fresh bread, combo entrees with add-ons and extras, salads, dessert, everything you can think of.

About halfway into their meal, they call me over and the man starts to complain about his half-eaten well-done sirloin steak.

Man: “My steak is overdone and tough to chew!”

No kidding. It’s well-done.

Man: “I will not be paying for these entrees!”

I happily offer to grab my manager to work something out, and I promise him that he will not be forced to pay for his half-eaten steak. My manager comes to a compromise with the couple and gives them a generous discount from their $160 tab. It brings their total down to $38. My manager runs their check out for them and they seem very pleased with the outcome.

By the time I arrive back to the table, the two are gone. I don’t panic too much, considering the lady has left her purse. I immediately go to the host stand.

Me: “Hey, the two from my table have both gone to the restroom, so don’t bus it off yet.”

I figure they will be back shortly and be ready to pay. Five minutes passed, then ten minutes passed, and then I pay a visit to the women’s restroom… which is empty. I grab my manager to let her know that they belong on the show “World’s Dumbest Criminals” and pass off the lady’s purse for safe keeping in the office.

I walk up to the host stand a short while later to discover my manager is on the phone with the MOTHER of the lady who left her purse. She had called to inform my manager that her daughter had forgotten her bag, to which my manager replied that she had “forgotten” to pay the bill, too. This lady’s sweet mother offer to pay their bill, as well as to pick up the purse soon after. My manager politely declined and told her that if her daughter wanted her bag back, she would have to show her face and come pay her bill.

I was getting ready to leave for the night when my manager handed me a credit card and told me that the lady from my walk out was here to pay her tab. My manager told me to run the charge and then hand her back the card myself. At this point, I was thrilled to see that she was willing to come back in and face anybody.

I swiped her card and handed her the receipt with THE BIGGEST smile on my face. I told her I hoped she’d have a really great night and to be safe on her way home. She wouldn’t even look me in the eyes. I stood and waited while she signed to ramp up her nerves. Zero tip, but so satisfying.

If you’re going to commit a crime and walk out on your bill, make sure all your ducks are in a row.

Adorning Yourself With Malicious Compliance

, , , , , , | Right | CREDIT: TandyAngie | November 16, 2020

Our junior high dress code is a pain. Most teachers don’t care so long as kids aren’t distracting. The principal of the junior high, however, insists on enforcing every single rule.

A friend of mine wears a long-sleeve shirt under a tank top.

Principal: “You cannot wear that tank top; tank tops are against the dress code. Please take it off.”

Friend: “I can’t take off the tank top; the long-sleeve shirt is slightly see-through.”

That’s another violation. Instead of allowing her to simply wear the tank over her long-sleeve shirt, the principal sends her home.

I decide this won’t stand. I study every rule in the dress code to prove how stupid it is. I start off small and work my way up.

Dress Code: “No open-toed sandals.”

This one is easy. I wear open-toed high heels. There’s nothing in the rules against high heels, and the open-toed rule only applies to sandals the way it is written.

Dress Code: “Shirts must be tucked into pants. Belts must be worn through belt loops.”

I knock out two here by wearing a skirt. Skirts, or at least the one I wear, have no belt loops and aren’t considered pants so I am not required to tuck in anything or wear a stupid belt.

Dress Code: “Backpacks must be plain-colored with no pins or excessive accessories.”

I pick up a briefcase from a resale shop and slap it with every sticker I can find. Any random logo or inspirational sticker I have laying around gets slapped on it. Technically, a briefcase isn’t a backpack.

Dress Code: “No costumes allowed.”

I verify this; my school considers a costume to be anything only worn for a certain period of time or for a certain reason. If you wear it all day, it is an outfit, not a costume. I abuse this one so badly. Once a week, I dress up as a lawyer, a clown, a hippie, a Shakespearean actor, a superhero, a cameraman, etc., complete, of course, with as many accessories as I can handle. So long as I never take them off — this makes gym class interesting — they aren’t considered part of a costume. I end up letting classmates pick out what I will dress as each week.

Dress Code: “No crazy hairstyles.”

I keep my hair natural colors, and I keep the styles something that was at least popular at one point. The beehive takes forever but is the most satisfying. I give myself bonus points if I can find pictures of adults who are still wearing their hair like that currently.

Dress Code: “Shirts are not allowed to have logos or print, only patterns and consistent designs.”

“Consistent designs” is my loophole here. No print, fine, but consistent print made specifically to look like a design? At this point, the principal is going mad and she doesn’t let this one slide. She insists I change, which I expected.

Dress Code: “Gym shorts must reach students’ knees or as long as their fingertips.”

Guess whose fingertips reach about three inches below her butt? Me! I go from wearing a shirt that says, “Bite me!” all over it to an outfit that includes short shorts. But my shorts are still longer than my fingers. I even offer to change back into my other clothes.

At this point in the year, we are almost done with school. Other kids are following my lead, and we are driving the principal mad. I decide to kick it up a bit further. I attack what should be the most basic rules.

Dress Code: “No sunglasses.”

Rose-colored glasses aren’t considered sunglasses because you can easily see through them. Still, the principal jerks them off my face and insists that I won’t get them back until the end of the day.

Dress Code: “No tank tops.”

I wear a dress with spaghetti straps. It isn’t a shirt, so I’m not breaking a rule.

Dress Code: “Belts must be plain with no dangerous materials.”

Plain it must be, so plain I go. I wear a shoestring as a belt. I wear a braided yarn string as a belt. I even wear a spandex band sewn to my pants as a belt.

Dress Code: “No Crocs.”

Crocs are not the only rubber shoe, my friends. I find every off-brand Croc I can get a hold of.

Finally, at the end of the year, I wear one of my most outrageous outfits. I wear a see-through dress — like a bathing suit cover-up — over leggings and a shirt that barely classifies as a T-shirt. I wear shoes with a four-inch cork heel. I have on fake glasses — no lenses — and a four-inch-wide headband. I wear bangles up to my elbows and anklets on each foot. I have a box to carry my books in that is decorated with blinking battery-powered fairy lights. I walk right up to the principal and give her a smile.

Kids pause to see what will happen. I wait to see what the principal will say. We’ve had this conversation all year. She will point out the rule I “broke” and I will prove that I haven’t done so.

Principal: *Sigh* “Fine, but if even one teacher says you’re distracting to the class, you change clothes.”

We shake on it. The only thing I have to ditch is most of the bangles; they keep clanging while I write.

In the end, I ended up getting the dress code rewritten and amended, and the principal implemented a new procedure where dress code violations did not result in being sent home; they were noted and students had to wear a piece of duct tape indicating the specific violation. If you forgot a belt, you put a piece of tape on a belt loop.

Kids only started to get in trouble after three dress code violations in the same week. Since she lightened up on the dress code and how harshly it was punished, she stopped having trouble with kids breaking it all the time. It worked out for everyone.

Malicious Compliance, One Gram At A Time
Unloading Some Beautiful Malicious Compliance
REALLY Malicious Compliance
The Currency Of Malicious Compliance

You Are Band From Coming Back

, , , , , | Right | CREDIT: NJdeathproof | November 1, 2020

‘Rock Band 3’ for X-Box 360 has only been out for a year or so. As the owner of a computer store, I’m pretty friendly with many other business owners in town. One owns a favorite restaurant of mine a block away. They have a large room for parties/spillover when busy/etc. We came up with the idea of doing a “Rock Band” night. I have the Xbox and she offered to get the game and full musical instrument set as she could give it to her son after we used it. I also offered to host, as I had played it before.

We get set up and everything is going great. Some people sing or play instruments, they submit songs and actually wait turns to make sure everyone gets a go. Some folks just sit and watch, enjoying drinks and food.

Then a mom shows up with her kid, who looks to be about twelve or thirteen years old. Both are carrying acoustic guitars.

I greet them and point out the waiting list for RB3 songs and encourage them to grab something to eat or drink while they waited their turn. She immediately gets snarky with me.

Mother: “Well we need to know when we can play.”

Me: “The list is right there. Just choose what song you want to play and which instruments you want to use.”

Mother: “Well we brought our own! We don’t need to use those electric instruments!”

Me: “Oh, I don’t think you understand. We’re playing Rock Band 3. On an Xbox. Those aren’t real instruments.”

I’ve had people ask about that before, when I was playing the guitar at my shop; they didn’t seem to realize it was a game controller.

Mother: “No! I got the email saying we could play!”

Me: “Right… you can play on the Xbox. We’re not doing anything with real instruments. But the owner is right there; maybe you can suggest an open mic night?”


The whole time her kid looks mortified, but never says a word. Finally, the owner notices this woman arguing with me and comes over. She’s a great lady but tolerates absolutely no bull-s***.

Owner: “What’s up?”

Mother: “The email you sent said we can play our own instruments!”

Owner: “No, it didn’t. I sent that email out myself. It clearly says it’s Rock Band for the Xbox. You’re welcome to stay and join in the fun.”

The owner turns to the kid.

Owner: “Would you like to try playing a song?”

The kid’s face lights up, but you can guess what happens next.

Mother: “We’re leaving!”

She escorts the kid out the door.

Me: “You ever see her before?”

Owner: “I don’t think so but she must have eaten here at some point since she’s on our email list.”

I later checked the email from the restaurant and yeah: clear as day it said we’d be playing ‘Rock Band 3’ on the Xbox 360. There was no indication it was open mic night or that people should bring their own instruments. The mother just didn’t want to admit she was wrong. Just felt bad for the kid because he definitely looked like he wanted to join in the fun.