Was about 18 or 19. I was going through my punk rock phase, rocking a spikey leather jacket, but I’m not a hooligan by any definition of the term.
I’m standing outside a dressing room waiting for my mother who is trying on different outfits to wear to my sister’s memorial service.

None of us are feeling particularly chipper.

Man:*scoffs*

Me: *smile and nod*

Man: Jesus is the answer you are searching for, Son.

Me: I really wasn’t searching for anything more than a pair of slacks for my mother.

Man: Well if you were MY son I wouldn’t let you leave the house looking like that.

He then jabs me in the chest.

*my mom has heard the entire interaction from inside the dressing room. My sister just died, all bets are off.*

Mom: If you were his father we would kill you in your sleep AND SWALLOW YOUR SOUL! Now run along outside and play a game of hide and go f#ck yourself before I break you.

Me: Did you just make an Evil Dead 2 reference?

Mom: I don’t know, but I’m sad and I’m pissed and it felt right.

It just came out.

I shared the best hug of my life with my mom that day.

No idea what happened to Mr. Jerkface.

He kinda just wandered away after we stopped paying attention to him.

I work afternoon shift at local petrol station. The employee that works morning shift has not turned up for 12 of the past 18 months, but my boss will not hire a replacement. I worked the extra hours most of that time, but lately have been getting tired of it, and have made myself less available for overtime
.
Boss: “You need to do something about your poor work ethic.”

SMH…

(I am ringing up a customer who only has a few items. Before I get too far into the transaction, I start asking him the standard questions that we are required to ask.)

Me: “Do you have a rewards card with us?”

Customer: [Very loudly, very close to my face] “EXCUSE me?”

Me: [Slowing down my speech a bit, thinking he didn’t hear me] “Do you have a rewards card with us?”

(The customer starts yelling at me very loudly in Spanish. While I can speak a little bit of Spanish, I cannot make out anything that he is saying because of how quickly he is speaking. I finish out his transaction and press the ‘total’ button.)

Me: “Okay…your total comes to [total].”

Customer: “Okay.”

(The customer slides his card, pays for his items, and leaves, seemingly happy.)

(This take place in a U.S. Government class. Whenever our teacher is absent, he leaves instructions for us to do some questions from our textbooks. Today, however, we have a substitute who is notorious through our school for being bossy, smug, and generally rude to the students.)

Substitute: “Alright, Mr. [Regular Teacher] left me instructions for you to do [Questions] in the textbook. Bring them to me at the end of the period.”

(Classmate #1, a very withdrawn but smart kid, finishes his questions in fifteen minutes, and takes them up to the substitute. My desk is right next to the teacher’s desk, so I can hear the conversation clearly.)

Classmate #1: “Here are the questions.”

Substitute: *Not even looking at the paper* “Why are you lying to me?”

Classmate #1: “Excuse me?”

Substitute: “There is no way you completed all those questions in fifteen minutes. Go back to your desk and finish them.”

(Classmate #1 goes back to his desk. Since we’re only fifteen minutes into an hour-and-a-half period, he gets out a journal and starts writing. After about a minute, the substitute gets up from the desk and storms over to him.)

Substitute: *almost shouting* “What are you doing?”

Classmate #1: “Um… I’m writing.”

Substitute: “I told you to finish the questions! Give me that! *snatches journal out of Classmate #1’s hands*

Classmate #1: “I already finished the questions! And that’s mine!”

(He tries to grab his journal, but the substitute SLAPS him. The entire class has gone silent by now.)

Substitute: *with a smug smile* “It’s mine now. This is what happens to students who don’t do their work.”

(The substitute tears a handful of pages out of the journal and rips them to shreads. Classmate #1 ROARS, LEAPS FROM HIS DESK, AND PUNCHES THE SUBSTITUTE IN THE STOMACH AND IN THE FACE. The substitute backs away, one hand on her stomach, and another on her face.)

Substitute: “YOU LITTLE S***! I’LL HAVE YOU EXPELLED!”

(The substitute runs from the room, and Classmate #1 kneels on the floor, and starts to cry. A few of us, myself included, try to comfort him. A few minutes later, the substitute returns, with an administrator in tow. She points at Classmate #1)

Substitute: “That’s him! He refused to do his work, swore at me, and assaulted me!”

Administrator: “[Classmate #1], is this true?”

(Classmate #1 is still crying, so I speak up.)

Me: “No. No it’s not. [Classmate #1] did his work, but Ms. [Substitute] wouldn’t accept it, and she slapped him and tore up his journal when he tried to write in it.”

(The rest of the class speaks up, against the substitute.)

Substitute: “YOU LYING-”

Classmate #2: “I recorded the whole thing!”

(The substitute goes pale, and the administrator reviews the recording. He orders the substitute to the office, and asks Classmate #1 if he’d like to go to the nurse. They all leave, and we don’t see Classmate #1 until next class, when thanks us for standing up for him. We later learn that the substitute was banned from ever teaching in a school again!)

(My brother loves a good conspiracy theory or two… just as much as he loves quoting movies.)

Me: Wanna go to the [local festival]. It’s free if you donate blood.

Brother: You do know that donating blood is a pyramid scheme perpatrated by Dracular, right?

Me: Of course it’s Dracula’s scheme. Why would I donate my tasty o-positive blood to dying people when there are vampires going hungry in third world countries?

Brother: We will have to take turns watching my kids as they draw out my life force.

Me: I can handle that. I may have to employ bribery. If not bribery, then shrubbery.

Brother: I know a shrubberer. His name is Karl the shrubberer. He does shrubberies. But he gets mad if you use the word “nee” to old ladies. Will you drive?

Me: I’ll drive, but only because brave Sir Robin ran away, bravely ran away, away.

Brother: That’s good to know because in order for me to drive you would have to cut down the mightiest tree in the forest using only a… wait for it… a herring.