This takes place years ago when my brother is in high school. My brother has always loved building — often rather destructive — things, including but not limited to an impressive array of potato cannons. He is in the garage assembling a new one and he has just glued the starter into place and decides to test it.

In the kitchen, I hear a bang, a yelp, and then a crash before my brother opens the door, now eyebrow-less and a bit singed.

Brother: “So, it turns out that glue is flammable before it dries.”

I’m working on set as an assistant director on a TV series. Part of my job is to keep the cast happy, and that sometimes includes getting coffee for them. One episode has us spending days across from a coffee shop that I frequent many times during our time there. A few days in, one of the actors — who is playing a guest-star bad guy — asks to come with me and I shrug sure.

As we enter the tiny, independent establishment, two patrons sitting lazily at tables, I approach the woman behind the counter who’s served me often before and her face suddenly changes to shock and horror as she looks over my shoulder.

I turn to see that my actor has pulled his massive prop gun from under his coat.

Actor: “This is a holdup!”

I leap at him, pressing the gun to his rather large chest — I’m a woman and not even close to his size — and yell:

Me: “No, no, no! He’s with me! This is not a holdup!”

I push him to the door, the gun still to his chest, kind of pointing at one of the patrons. Everyone is standing now and I can’t get him out the door myself, but he gives up his “joke” and heads outside.

Me: “What is wrong with you? Get back to the prop department and give them your gun!”

The actor slinks off and I turn back to everyone still in the small shop.

Me: “I am so sorry. I had no idea he brought his gun.”

The barista knew that what happened wasn’t my fault and took my order. The two patrons calmed down pretty quickly as it was really obvious that we were filming shoot-outs across the road, and they went back to their drinks.

The actor and I never talked about the incident, but who in their right mind thinks that waving a huge gun around in public is a good idea?

I own a cake shop. There is a display at the front showing various cakes we provide. None of them are real. This happens one morning just after I have opened. 

Customer: “You have a cake in your window.”

Me: “Yes. Are you interested in buying?”

Customer: “Can I look at it?”

Me: “Certainly.”

I pull a catalogue from under the counter.

Me: “Which cake caught your eye?”

Customer: “No. I want to see the cake in the window.”

Me: “All of the cakes in the window are in this catalogue.”

Customer: “But I want to see the one in the window. Why can’t you show me?”

Me: “I can, but it isn’t real. The only difference between a cake in the window and one in the catalogue is that it’s 3D.”

Customer: “If it isn’t real, then what’s the harm?”

I agree and ask her to point out which cake she wants. I bring it over and place it on the counter.

Customer: “And how much is this cake?”

Me: “It comes in several sizes; I’ll just check.”

In the two seconds I look away from her, she picks it up and takes a big bite out of it. I turn back as she screams.

Customer: “THIS IS FAKE! IT’S STYROFOAM!”

Me: “Yes, it is.”

Customer: “You tried to sell me a fake cake!”

Me: “I told you it wasn’t real. You even said it wasn’t real before I brought it over.”

Customer: “YOU COULD HAVE KILLED ME! I’M SUING!”

She threw the cake to the ground, which caused the glass stand it was glued to to shatter. She stormed out, leaving me to fix the mess. 

My daughter was in the back the entire time and asked if she should call the police. I decided against it and instead printed a picture of the woman’s face that was in clear view of the camera which overlooks the shop. The picture of her, taking a bite out of Styrofoam, now hangs on the wall behind the counter. While I had to get the cake remade, I think the laughs I get from the picture are worth the cost.

This story has been included in our June 2020 roundup as one of that month’s most memorable stories!

Want to read the next story? Click here!

Want to see the roundup? Click here!

The bus I am taking is detoured due to an event. The end stop has also changed. I’m on the bus and it starts to deviate from its normal route. One of the passengers runs to the front. At first, she only yells at the driver that he is wrong and he should turn back.

The bus driver tries to explain but she is having none of it, and the situation quickly escalates as the passenger becomes violent towards the driver.

A good number of people are sitting closer to the front but nobody reacts. As the situation is quickly turning unsafe, I get up to the front. I’m not sure about this woman’s diagnosis, but it is clear from the young lady’s actions that she has a disorder that makes it difficult for her to deal with changes.

Me: *Speaking reassuringly* “Due to [event], the bus is rerouted, but it will be all right.”

Lady: “No, no, no, I don’t know how to get to my work now and I will be late.”

Me: “It will be all right. I’ll explain to you how to get there.”

Lady: “I need to go to [usual end stop]! I cannot get to my work otherwise.”

By now, it is clear to me that the girl is stuck in her mind. I lead her away from the driver as she is still lashing out to him but a bit less violently.

Me: “Come, sit here. It will be all right.”

Although the passenger’s panic was subsiding, it was not far away and needed little to rekindle. I tried to explain to her how she could get to her work but she was not responding. I resigned myself to arriving late to work myself. I kept talking to her, repeating that it would be fine.

I led her from the bus as she seemed unable to take action herself and walked with her until we got to a point she recognized and I was sure she would be able to get to her job — in the opposite direction of mine. All the time, I was responding to her mutterings, telling her it would be all right and that her boss would understand.

I was bolstered in that idea by the actions of a coworker of hers that happened to come by. She did not respond to him but it was clear that he knew her and knew of whatever she was dealing with. I got her safely where she had to go and made it with a second to spare to my own job.

I’m a ski instructor that works in the Austrian Alps. I’m in charge of a group of ski students from a boarding school in the UK.

One of my students is wearing a suit of motocross armour under his ski clothes — a full neck guard, breastplate, shoulder armour, elbow and knee pads, gauntlets, buttplate, and calf armour. They are all made of the same reinforced plastic as his ski helmet. He wears it as he is “paranoid that he’d get hurt on the slopes.” We all laugh and call him a wimp. As his armour is painted bright gold, everyone calls him “Thanos.”

This happens on the third day of skiing. Thanos manages to get into the ski lift ahead of us, and there’s a group of what looks like university-age girls speaking in obvious American accents. They’re quite loud and when in the queue, they use their poles to disconnect the skis of the person in front of them before shoving them aside before taking their spot. It’s gotten more than one person angry, but the girls ignore them.

They reach Thanos, but when they try to disconnect his skis, he moves his leg out of the way, lightly knocking one of them on the ankle in the process. Those girls go ballistic, shouting about him being rude and a jerka**. They start swearing, but Thanos has reached the front by then and goes up the lift.

I think that’s the end of it, but that is not the case. When Thanos reaches the top, he patiently waits for the rest of us, but the university girls get up there first. They see him and start shouting and swearing at him, calling him rude and demanding an apology.

Naturally, all they get is a flat refusal. They take that poorly, to say the least. They then start hitting him with their ski poles and punching him with their fists. He turtles up and takes the hits, calling out for help while telling his assailants to desist. The girls push him over and then they notice that he is Chinese and add accusations about the recent health crisis — this is during the outbreak in Italy.

At this point, I arrive with a few more students. Seeing us and some ski patrol guys rushing toward them, the girls run off, leaving Thanos behind.

Thanos says cheerfully, getting up, “Well, thank goodness for my armour.”

[Student #1] asks, “Did that even hurt?”

“Nope,” Thanos responds. “Barely felt a thing.”

“Dang, that armour’s tough,” I observe. “I’ll be more worried about the person that rams into you than you.”

“Told you all that my paranoia was justified,” Thanos says smugly.

[Student #2] asks, in an appalled tone, “This was what you were paranoid about?”

I ask him, “Should we go to the police? Press charges?”

Thanos just says, “Nah. It’s our holiday. Let them go. Besides, they’re long gone by now.”

We reluctantly agree with him and continue skiing, but I just wonder what would have happened if Thanos wasn’t wearing his armour or if they had gone after one of the other students. Would they be unharmed and treat the whole thing as a joke? Those girls could have hurt someone badly, and I can only hope that they face justice at some point in the future.

Related:
Thanos Had One (1) Good Idea