Featured Story:
  • Death Is A Real Scream
    (403 thumbs up)
  • January's Theme Of The Month: Family Vacations, Part 2!
    Submit your story today!

    A Brush With Death

    | USA | Siblings

    (We are on our way to my eighth grade graduation awards ceremony. I’m finishing up my make up and hair in the car. My little sister never brushes her hair, and I think she should more often because it is an amazing strawberry blonde.)

    Me: “You know, you should brush your hair, because you know some people would kill for your hair.”

    (My little sister turns around and looks me dead in the eye.)

    Little Sister: “Kill who?”

    (My older sister and I started laughing uncontrollably and now we always use that reference why our younger sister doesn’t brush her hair.)

    She’s Full Of Hot Air(bag)

    | Shingle Springs, CA, USA | Siblings

    (I am 16 and have just got my drivers license. My parents are overjoyed to have me taking over the task of driving my 15-year-old sister and myself to and from high school. I am somewhat less enthusiastic about the extra time alone with my little sister.)

    Sister: “I don’t wanna listen to your dumb talk radio. Let me change it!”

    Me: “I don’t care. I hate your music and it’s just for a ten minute drive home. Listen when you get back to your room with that giant stereo!”

    (It goes on like this until she starts PUNCHING me in the face while I’m driving!)

    Me: *deflecting her blows while trying to maintain sight of the road and control of the vehicle* “Are you crazy!? What are you doing?”

    Sister: “When we get into an accident, it’ll be your fault because you’re the one that made me angry!”

    Me: “Yeah, well the joke’s on you. My car doesn’t have passenger side airbags.”

    Death Is A Real Scream

    | New Haven, CT, USA | Siblings

    (My sister is driving around town with her twin three-year-old sons in the back seat when this exchange happens:)

    Twin #1: “Mommy, what’s that?”

    Sister: “That’s the cemetery.”

    Twin #1: “What’s a cemetery?”

    Sister: “That’s where people get buried when they die.”

    Twin #1: “Why do we bury people when they die?”

    (Before my sister can come up with a satisfying answer to the question, her other son pipes up:)

    Twin #2: “Because if you bury them deep enough, you can’t hear them scream.”

    No Sting In This Tale

    | Houghton, NY, USA | Parents & Guardians

    (My mom is deathly afraid of anything that stings. She comes to pick me up from college at the end of my spring semester. While we’re driving toward the campus exit, I notice something troubling.)

    Me: *trying to sound normal* “Hey, Mom?”

    Mom: “Yes?”

    Me: “If I ask you something, can you do it and not ask any questions?”

    Mom: “Umm… what is it?”

    Me: “Can you take this turn up here?”

    (The turn goes away from the exit.)

    Mom: “…sure.”

    (She does. One of my friends happens to be up the road. Once we stop…)

    Me: “Now, please get out of the car and shut the door after you.”

    Mom: *giving me a weird look* “Okay…”

    (I get out also and shut my door quickly.)

    Me: “Do you know why I did that?”

    Mom: “No… I figured it was because [Friend] was up here.”

    Me: “No, I had no idea she was here. There’s a wasp in the back seat.”

    Mom: *immediately begins screaming and backs away from the car*

    Me: “Calm down! It’s still in there. It can’t get you. That’s why I had us stop like that.”

    Mom: “IT’S STILL IN THERE?! HOW WILL YOU GET IT OUT?!”

    Me: “Just stand back and I’ll open the trunk and it will fly out. It’s fine.”

    (She stands VERY far back. It all goes according to plan. I say bye to my friend and we get back in the car.)

    Me: “Now, aren’t you glad I did it that way?”

    Mom: *sheepishly* “Yes.”

    (Unfortunately I think that trick will only work once!)

    My Family And Other Animals, Part 7

    | AZ, USA | Parents & Guardians, Siblings

    (It’s my dad, my sister, and I in the car driving home after they picked me up from work. Our mom works at a local wildlife rescue and rehabilitation center, where they take in injured wildlife and nurse them back to health. There has been an injured coyote in our neighborhood that she has been trying to capture for the past few months. As we are driving on the street parallel to the street our house is on, the injured coyote runs across the street. We pull over and call our mom, who is still at work.)

    Mom: “[Wildlife Center], this is [Mom]. How may I help you?”

    Sister: *on speakerphone* “Hello, we were driving along and an injured coyote ran across the street in front of us.”

    Mom: “Where are you located?”

    Sister: “[Street next to ours].”

    Mom: “What side of town is that on?”

    Sister: “East.”

    Mom: “Oh, I live over there. Was it a front leg injury?”

    Sister: “Yes.”

    (At this point, Dad and I are nearly dying trying to hold back our laughter. Sister is having trouble keeping a straight face as well.)

    Mom: “Yeah, I’ve been trying to catch this one for a while. Is he moving?”

    Sister: “Well, he ran across the street, but we haven’t seen him move from behind the car in this driveway here. ”

    Mom: “Yeah, I live over on [Our Street] and he’s been sighted a couple of times, but is always gone when we come and try to find him. I will see if I can drive by and see if I can see him.”

    Sister: “Okay. Bye Mom!”

    Mom: “Wait… what?!”

    (We then explained to her that it was us the whole time. Apparently, she was going to call us once she got off the phone to go and check it out!)

    Related:
    My Family And Other Animals, Part 6
    My Family And Other Animals, Part 5
    My Family And Other Animals, Part 4

    Comparing All The Drivers Is Like Apples And Oranges

    | Germany | Friends, Parents & Guardians

    (I am about four when my family and my best friend’s family go on vacation together. I am in a car with her and her family driving through a mountainous region, with a car from The Netherlands, with an orange license plate, driving extremely slowly before us.)

    Best Friend: “Dad, why is that car’s license plate orange?”

    Her Dad: *frustrated* “That means that whoever is at the wheel is an awful driver and probably failed the driving test four times.”

    (A little later we stop at a truck stop and my friend has spotted another orange license plate.)

    Best Friend: *running up to the driver* “Hello! Did you fail your driving test four times as well?!”


    Page 1/4612345...Last
    Next Page »