(My coworker tells me this story almost immediately after it happened to her. A young boy comes up to her, silently sticking out his hand for her to shake. Bemused, she lets him take her hand and shake it. He stares wordlessly at her for several seconds while doing so, and then runs his tongue up her arm. His mother comes running up, mortified and apologizing.)

Mother: “I’m so sorry; he just saw The Boxtrolls in the theater.”

(My coworker hadn’t seen the movie, so after I got over my bout of shocked laughter, I confirmed that yes, the boy had been imitating the main character a little TOO closely.)

(I am cleaning out the locker room, which involves taking all of the towels out of a towel bin and bringing them to the washing machine. At the bottom of the bin lies a human turd. I run out of there as fast as I can to talk to my boss.)

Me: “Uh, [Boss]?”

Boss: “Yeah?”

Me: “Well, there’s a turd in the locker room towel bin.”

Boss: “Oh, God. Come with me.”

(We walk to the locker room.)

Me: “What should we do?”

Boss: “We gotta clean it up.”

(He looks in the bin.)

Boss: “I’ll clean it up; you don’t get paid enough to do that.”

(My friend and I are in science class, working on an experiment with bacteria. Groups in our class have taken swabs from areas around the school and we’re seeing what grows in the petri dish over the course of a week. It’s been a week and we go to observe our bacteria. We’re allowed to take off the lids of the dishes. I notice a faint odor when I take the lid off.)

Me: “Hey, [Friend], does this smell weird to you?”

(To my horror, she puts her nose right over the petri dish and HUFFS.)

Friend: *yelps and leaps backward before sitting on the floor, clutching her nose*

Me: “What was that?!”

Friend: “You said to smell it!”

Me: “I didn’t think you’d huff it! You waft it towards you like [Teacher] showed us!”

Friend: *still clutching her nose* “It smells like a field-dressed deer carcass!”

(This is why we follow lab safety. Don’t murder your nose!)

(I am visiting a friend and her family and we are having a nice dinner party. Since a couple of guests are late, the front door is unlocked. We look towards the door when we hear someone sprinting up the steps and a young man rushes in, covered in blood.)

Bloody Guy: *somewhat panicked* “[Friend]! I need… I need plastic wrap! A lot of it!”

(The room is quiet for a few moments.)

Friend: *snaps out of it* “Is someone hurt? I think I have a first aid kit.”

Bloody Guy: “No, no one needs a first aid kit. Just plastic wrap, and maybe if you have a big cooler?”

(My friend goes to check for the requested items. Bloody Guy stands there, still kind of breathing heavily.)

Other Guest: “What the f*** is going on?”

Bloody Guy: *blinks, and then suddenly has a moment of obvious realization* “Oh. S***. This looks real bad, huh?”

Other Guest: “Uh, yeah.”

(The bloody guy starts laughing and shouts outside for his girlfriend to come in. She’s also covered in blood, but smiling awkwardly.)

Bloody Girl: “Uh, hi?”

Bloody Guy: *grins* “Hey, babe, tell ’em what happened tonight.”

Bloody Girl: *excitable* “I got in a car accident! With a deer. It’s in my trunk. Wanna see?”

([Friend] comes back with plastic wrap and everyone goes outside; yep, that’s a dead, gutted deer in the trunk, and a screwed-up car. They needed plastic wrap to prevent more blood from getting on the carpeting of the trunk.)

Bloody Guy: *laughing* “I think they thought I killed somebody!”

(It turned out that [Bloody Guy] was a local legend who also happens to be [Friend]’s brother. He was notorious for making local legislation consider making a law to prohibit people from riding livestock on the road in the downtown/shopping district.)

(I am watching television in the living room. It is past my eight-year-old daughter’s bedtime, but for some reason she feels she is able to sneak past me into the kitchen to get a late snack. I am watching her attempt to sneak by, wondering how long I should let this go for, when she trips, falls, and lets out a huge fart. I can’t help myself and burst out laughing.)

Me: “That was hysterical! I’m laughing so hard that I’m crying!”

Daughter: “Just wait until you smell it; you’ll really be crying!”