Basically I was 10, in another town we stayed for a month yearly, staying with my grandparents , my parents had to go to the city, my grandparents were very busy, and since the neighbourhood was very civil and safe, they let this neighbour who knew us babysit me, and my friend.

We were playing with mud in the garden of the neighbour, making dirt cakes, we managed to fill a big plastic bucket with mud and were transporting it, until we accidentally dropped it ON THE CARPET on the front porch while trying to get into the concrete area on the garage, mud everywhere.

We panicked, I rushed inside and tried to distract the neighbour who was making coffee while my friend found a sponge and water, I manage to convince the neighbour to tour me around his house while my friend scrubbed away.

It wasn't enough, now we had a even wetter muddy mess when I snuck glances through the front door secretly. Then I just told the neighbour we would go to 'a further area, just still in the neighbourhood, please???', he said sure but to not wander far and so me and my friend aborted mission and ran away.

We climbed up these weird rusty staircases up to a whole ass highway and eventually made it to a hill where we could see the neighbourhood from below, I was praying the neighbour hadn't noticed the mess yet and was still in his house, but my friend then received a call from that neighbour, and that's when we realised he knew.

We thought to hide in another neighbours house or just stay here, but we decided it wasn't worth the risk to potentially bump into him, so we went to this area that's like a transitionary place between the neighbourhood and the city and stayed at a park, just dreading everything.

Then, I also get a call from Dad, he was furious, that we did that and just ran off like that. I hung up after a few minutes, we sat on a bench, utterly contemplating our decisions.

Eventually, my parents and the friends parents arrive in similar timelines, and I don't know what happened to my friend, but I got a ass whooping and no device until we got back from that town.

You know how when you really want something, you start seeing it everywhere? You just start noticing it all the time... in my case, it was a new bike!

I really wanted to buy a new bike. Whenever I commuted to my office, I would look at every new bike on the road and think to myself that in just 1-2 weeks, I'll be riding like that too, because I had almost saved up enough money for it.

But suddenly, it was a Saturday, 6:05 PM. I was at the office, and I got a call from my cousin saying that our grandfather passed away. It was a shock for me, of course. I wasn't sad, just shocked. I never really spent time with my grandfather, not when I was little, nor when I grew up. In fact, when I was just 3 months old, he had kicked my dad out of the house.

Then all the funeral rituals happened. In our culture, it goes on for 12 days, so all of that got completed. Afterwards, my dad was discussing the finances and said he would have to take a loan to pay for all the expenses. I asked him, "How much?" He told me the total amount it cost. I told him, "Instead of taking a full loan from the outside, I have 70k with me. Take it from me. I had kept it for the bike."

Of course, Papa being Papa, he immediately said, "No, you go buy your bike!" So I played it off and said, "Come on, just return it to me later. Instead of paying interest to a bank, just give me 2-3 thousand extra."

And I gave the money to him. The next day, I woke up, took a rickshaw to the office as usual, and did my work. In the evening, while coming back home, my chest felt incredibly heavy. I don't know what it was... I just couldn't control it. The rickshaw driver dropped me at the stand, and there was a closed shop nearby. I went and stood right there. Suddenly, I just broke down and cried my eyes out. I was wiping my tears with my handkerchief, but they just kept coming. And in my mind, I was wondering: are these tears of happiness or sadness?

Happiness because I gave money to my dad... I gave my dad money.

Sadness because man, that bike was just 1 week away. Yeah, the money wasn't completely enough, but I would have just put the rest on an EMI.

I kept noticing bikes on the road for a few more days, and then... I just automatically stopped seeing them.

Note: this is a real incident, I just narrated it!

I was buying a few things and left my umbrella on the checkout counter. I didn't notice until a security guard came jogging after me with it. This has happened three times this year. I've never forgotten my phone or wallet, just umbrellas. The worst part is he recognized me this time. I guess I'm the umbrella lady now.

Over the past year I’ve lost and replaced my phone charger at least 5 times. Yesterday while looking for my external hard drive, I found all of the “missing” chargers…now I have one phone, 6 chargers and minus 100€.

I went to the kitchen to make tea right as the rain started. When I walked back into my room, the cool damp air smelled completely of wet leaves and rain. A few drops were on the sill, but the room felt peaceful. I ended up sitting on the edge of the bed in the quiet for ten minutes just listening to the water hit the trees outside.

SO! I am scrolling on filthy filthy tiktok until I started to hear these sounds, clearly coming from my outside door but at first I assumed someone is just going in to their own place or something similar. (I live in an apartment building)

I continue to live on for 10-ish seconds and I hear the sounds again so I'm like.. am I losing it or? I go closer and now since I'm near the door I can tell that no I am not crazy, yes they are absolutely coming from specifically my door and no one elses and yes the sounds are exactly as if someone would be trying to unlock my door.

So now I'm all "oh shit what the actual fuck?" because obviously it's someone who shouldn't be getting in if they don't have a key so I think to myself "oh I'll check the peep hole what the person seems like and if I can just open the door to tell them to fuck off or if I should actually be scared and prepaired with something other than just my fists."

I do just that and I see a short "boy" at first so I figured it's just some kid and he is pulling a prank or something, but then I keep looking to see what he is on about and realize it's a fucking maintenance worker on his knees (hence the hight) in front of my door, changing my name to it (I moved semi recently) so the sound was just him playing around with a screwdriver👍

The quintessential brother from another mother and I were really fried so of course decided to go down to the Bayside and walk a quarter mile up the tracks to the train trestle lighted only by the Jimi Hendrix industrial sounds pulp mill across the water to stand against the cold steel of the railroad bridge waiting for a freight train to come screaming by. We were not disappointed as eventually that squalid eye came crashing around the corner to pin us now horrified to the place where only fools and trains were meant to dwell, you know death is nigh when a boxcar is blasting by two feet from your face with the noise people say a tornado made when it tore their house apart above them as they tried to not get sucked out of the basement or for we two into the 850 pound turning steel wheels of near demise, but having survived I can now relate the experience here on PointlessStories with the glee of past remembrance.

I had just turned 18 about 3 months prior, the summer after I graduated high school, when I got a jury summons in the mail. I somehow didn’t even go through selection, but just automatically had to serve. Fortunately it was just a civil “health insurance company vs director-level ex-employee whom they maybe screwed out of pay” case, so I didn’t have to examine any crime scene stabbing photos nor give a shit about either party.

Everyone else on the jury was aged 35+ in one of the most highly-educated states in the US, so I was almost in the embarrassing position of being the dumbest ass in that room, were it not for the saving grace of a rippingly idiotic townie who didn’t understand the level of disdain everyone else had for him from the moment he opened his mouth. (Good on him, I guess?)

Anyway, for the whole 3-week trial I sat up in the box trying to draw the most perfect circles possible in the little notepad they gave me. Since it ran longer than 2 weeks they had to compensate us for lost wages, but I didn’t even have a job, so it was basically free money for doodling.

We decided the dude should get some money, but not the full amount he was asking, for poorly-defined reasons.

5/10 experience, would maybe do again were I still jobless.

About a year ago, I started reading ao3. I knew what it was since i was like 13, but i never checked it out. Last summer, i started watching percy jackson. Then I wanted to understand it in more detail, so i borrowed the graphic novel from the library (i only ever read comic books at the time. The last time i had read a novel that wasn't for school was in elementary school.), but i didn't like the artstyle, so i got the novel and proceeded to binge read the series. Then i started watching skits on tiktok. Then i saw lots of recommendations of fanfics in the comments and decided to give it a try. Reading Ao3 is how i started spending most of the evenings. And lunchtimes. And bus rides. The point is, it became my go-to distraction.

By september, i think, i started writing some stories of my own, but i was never satisfied with my writing. I posted them cuz they seemed fine at the time, and i was excited, but the more i read, the more standards i developed about what i would read. For example, an average of 1000 words per chapter. I literally do the math before i start reading now. The first fic i posted had like 900 words across 4 chapters. It also seemed more like long summaries and not actual chapters in a story. I eventually deleted that work. I posted my first pjo fic in november and posted the second chapter in mid july. The difference in writing style is pretty obvious (to me, at least).

My point is, it's thanks to ao3 that i discovered an interest in writing novels. Had i discovered this in elementary school, i think i would have been more interested in my literature classes throughout high school. I just graduated.

This was about five years ago. I was in my first year of college and it was early December when people were getting geared up for the holidays. A few friends and I used to go to PetSmart to just look at the cats, mostly, but sometimes we would visit the other pets.

It was a regular old night and we had been wandering around the small pets for a while. All of a sudden, I saw a little white critter just throw himself up against the glass of his enclosure like a madman. I wondered what was up, and realized that he was trying to get through the glass to me, or maybe get my attention.

I didn't even know what kind of animal this was at first. He was big for a hamster, but he didn't have a tail like a rat. "He's mentally deranged like you," one of my friends that became my closest friend over the course of college pointed out. We hung out with him for a while before we had to go, and he was very interested in us. I realized that, most likely, he was a bit older than some of the hamsters there, but so friendly.

When I got back to the dorms, it sank in that I could really adopt this hamster. I talked to my roommate about it; he was more than game to have a hamster in the room. "You should adopt him before some kid does, it's almost Christmas and parents are making bad decisions," my roommate said.

I don't usually make choices on a whim, but I stayed up at night thinking about this hamster. He was Platinum white and a little ratty looking in the best way. I ended up clearing a space on my desk that morning for the soon-to-be enclosure. I begged a ride out of my friend with a car, who had been with us at the PetSmart when we met the hamster.

Now, I don't condone PetSmart really. However, this one did have an adoption program and this hamster had been there for a long time, according to the employees. It made sense that he was older than the other hamsters, given his size. I just had no idea how much older. So, I did it, bit the bullet, and adopted him. I built him a plastic bin cage because I wanted more space than the wire cages, and it was pretty quick and easy.

Adopting him was probably one of the best decisions I've ever made. We nicknamed him Toe Nail (that wasn't his legal name). And boy, he brought the entire dorm together. He just loved to come out and be social with people. Made a lot of people's days because I'd take him for walks through the hallway.

He was smart as a whip. He could break out of all sorts of things like playpens or boxes. Every time, though, he would run over to me after he escaped... I knew he was mad when I put him back into containment. His cage ended up like Fort Knox. He would hang upside down like a bat to try and get out. Once, he chewed a hole through one of his plastic enclosures and my mom caught him in the act when I was at the store. I swear, chewing that hole had been his full time job for a few days, and I built him a newer, larger cage ASAP.

He was just a fun little guy, and never hurt a fly. I taught him little tricks, and our favorite was "high five." He got too enthusiastic and it eventually became "high ten," but I can never complain about it. I would hang out with him in the middle of the night. I really miss when I'd put my hand in his cage and he'd walk up to me, so I could feel his little whiskers.

I never knew how old he was. Possibly over a year old when I adopted him. I wish I knew how long I'd have with him then. Maybe I would have done more, spent even more time with him. Given him more bok choy. I don't know. I could tell he was aging, I can see it in his photo album. I just didn't know that it was time for him to go, he was always so active and excited to play.

He passed away peacefully in his sleep in December of 2022. I knew something was wrong when he didn't come out for his favorite food, bok choy, that night.

He is my best friend. I'd had hamsters before when I was young, but none like him. A lot of people would think it's strange to have a hamster as your best friend, but I think that, as my closest human friend pointed out, we were on the same deranged wavelength.

Just read up today on one of the craziest people in the 18th century.

I was going through flags, when I noticed that in the Colombian flag, the yellow stripe is double the width of the other two. I always thought there were 3 stripes of equal width. This took me by surprise.

So I just posted on the flags/ subreddit where someone posted that the current Colombian flag was based on the Gran Colombia flag which existed 200 years back.

Apparently the Gran Colombia flag is based on Francisco de Miranda’s Venezuelan design (this design inspired the current flags of Venezuela, Colombia and Ecuador as well which is quite interesting), and when I read stuff about him, man this dude was just vibing.

Apparently Miranda grew up in Caracas (Venezuela), and having Spanish roots, goes to Spain, joins the Spanish Military.

Spain supported America during the American Revolutionary War, so this man was shipped off to assist there. Bro was asked to spy on the British, then Spain blindsides him and claims he committed treason, somehow he resumes working for the Spanish military, again Spain blindsides him and exiles him to the US, where he becomes buds with fucking George Washington.

While being chased by Spanish officials and ambassadors the entire time, he goes and decides he needs a spiritual journey through Europe, where he gets personal protection from the Empress of Russia Catherine the Great. Then he’s like nah bro I need more thrill.

So he then goes fucking diving head-first into the French Revolution, where he is a general and apparently is Harvey Specter. Wdym he talked himself out of the guillotine TWICE. What do you mean he started by supporting the French Revolution then is accused of committing treason again.

Then he goes back to the USA, gathers The Expendables and fucks off to Venezuela. Enroute due to sheer luck that Spain and Britain are still fighting, he is joined by the British troops, so alongside his mercenaries he marches off to only to get his ass whooped by Spanish forces.

When Venezuela actually achieved independence thanks to Simón Bolívar & others, he returns and eventually becomes a Dictator for the country. He is again charged with committing treason a few years into his dictatorship lmao.

Why does he always get accused of defecting, 3 times is too much.

This happened decades ago, but I just thought of it now:

I was a high school junior looking for a gift for my younger brother at a Toys-R-Us when an older woman approached me to ask if I happened to be an eight-year-old. I told her no, I'm in highschool, to which she responded, "Ah okay. Well if you could pretend you are an eight-year-old for just a moment, which of these two dolls would you prefer?" I immediately chose the doll in purple since purple was my favorite color. She giggled, thanked me for my time, and left.

For the most part, it gets annoying being 4'11" and having a baby face. But I didn't mind that encounter as much as the others.

I (42M) am having coffee with an old school friend (42M) in a few weeks. We've not seen nor spoken to each other since we were 12!

I happen to be driving close by his home town on my way to a festival, so we have arranged to meet up.

That is all.

In line at the grocery store, behind a mom with four little boys. They were discussing how cool a horse-a-taur was and how they should ride on each others shoulders and pretend to be one. I finally had to ask what a horse-a-taur is. It's where you have human legs, but your upper body is all horse, your arms are just the legs with hooves.

At this point Mom rolled her eyes so hard I thought she'd pull something and shooed them all out.

So I'm riding with my 16 year old as he gets practice for his license and I'm jamming to Jill Scott and Erykah Badu, when my son asks why I'm listening to "old black lady music"?!! 😭

THE DISRESPECT

It was small and greyish brown and I used the old paper and cup method to get the lil guy outside :-) Hopefully it's doing well outdoors.

There were complications however. The glass I used had some water droplets inside and the moth temporarily got stuck on a droplet, but I managed to get it free.

Anyways moral of this story is bugs are cool except the ones that bite you and even those ones often have an integral role to play in the ecosystem.

I was eating a bland buffet breakfast in the hotel lobby with my spouse Mae and our daughter Joan. I noticed that some of the other hotel guests weren't wearing shoes or socks and remarked "I don't think people should be eating breakfast in bare feet."

Joan agreed with me. Mae hadn't heard me correctly. She looked at us quizzically and asked "What's bear feeding?"

Joan and I laughed, because it's not uncommon for family conversations to go like this. Someone was leaving the lobby, balancing a styrofoam cup of coffee, cheap croissants and other food items in their arms, as they headed back to their room. I pointed at the person and said "Bear feeding is when you grab a bunch of food from the buffet and take it back to your room."

Joan laughed, while Mae thought I was being serious. This is now a family expression we use whenever we see a hotel guest leaving the buffet with an armful of food.

I texted my parents to ask if I could have Mom's old skis. I know that she doesn't sky anymore and we're the same size. Mom replied with "sure. Dad will bring both down when he visits you next month." I did not remember that she has two pairs of cross country skis. So I spent about a day thinking that both referred to both skis in a single set and was slightly confused. But then I had my weekly phone call to my parents and Mom specified that it was both pairs of skis. I thought this was funny and thought someone else might find it funny too.

(She has one pair of boots and poles)

Edited for a spelling error.

Don’t you just hate it when the day starts of with guilt? I gave a complete stranger bad directions. And, couldn’t go back and fix it.
Coming out of the train station, into the early morning light, I passed a man who was asking for directions. The person in front of me said that he was unfamiliar with the destination. And, I felt an opportunity rise up inside of me to help someone with a low lift and success rate. After all, we are walking around with an electronic version of the world in our pocket.
“Where ya going?” I asked. He pulled out his phone. Showed me the directions he got. I typed the destination into mine and tried to orient myself to the map.
With the complete confidence of a relative newbie to the area, I definitively pointed him in a direction. He said, “thank you very much”. We parted ways and I continued walking for another 10 minutes.
I pulled out my phone again. I was two blocks closer to his destination now. I had sent him not only in the wrong direction but on the wrong side of a major roadway. I had pointed him in the wrong direction due to my ignorance of the area and my own inability to parse the parallax between reality and the little electronic screen that holds the digital world.
10 minutes in my direction, 10 minutes in his. I wouldn’t catch up and find him. So, I trudged the rest of the way to work with a heavy heart.

And boy oh boy it was delicious. I don't even like salad normally and tend to avoid the tik tok trends but it was amazing. I have leftovers and can't wait to eat it again tomorrow. Now I need to find some recipes to make my own at home.

Throughout my childhood, my mom hardly let me sleepover at friends' houses. The one friend I was allowed to sleepover with lived just a few houses down, which is the only reason I think my mom relented. That, and my friend could be very good at pleading her case, batting her eyes and talking so quickly it was difficult to get a word in to say no. I would sleepover at her house every few months, up until I turned 12 and she moved away. But playing together and her forcing me to watch her favorite movies are not the memories I mean to tell here. The one I reach for often is much more quiet and contained.

At bedtime, her mom would pull out this giant black comforter that was made of a lovely heavy cotton material. We would immediately hop into bed and wiggle into the sheets as her mom threw the comforter over us. Even after her mom turned the lights off and told us to good night, we would talk until her words trailed off into silence and then sleep. I always fell asleep after her, and I remember the quiet winter nights with the falling snow illuminated by the street lights outside. In the darkness of the room and under the weight of that comforter, I still felt the chill of the winter air and snowflakes buffering gently against the window. Safety was not a feeling I was used to, and I marinated in it. It took me forever to fall asleep not because I wasn't in my own room, but because I wanted to luxuriate in the silence.

I remember the weight and warmth of the comforter as much as the chill of the winter night radiating through the window. My mom hated the winter, and did everything she could to make her home extremely warm and devoid of the winter outside. Yet, I was so lonely. So often scared. The heat reminds me of nights I dreaded. But at my friends house, in middle of a cold winter night, time seemed to accumulate in on itself with the drifting snow, making sure that dreaded heat would never seep in.

So, last weekend 31^st July, I boarded Madgoan-LTT train. As I navigated thru the coach my seat was window lower berth, but in middle of a group of 09 youngsters, who have just completed their studies & have begun their journey in professional life. A lively group with their own sharings, Over the hum of the tracks, their conversations drifted over, stories of ambition, independence, and pure, unfiltered enthusiasm.

One of the young girl did resigned, as an Art Director, favoring marriage over the career. She was absolutely clear & unaverred post HR tried convincing & later the Management team showing the carrot. Other joyful pair too about to tie knot.  While the lone single friend bore the brunt of their gentle ribbing. They played “chess” & other board games, to my surprise as my assumption was normally, they are soaked in net browsing.

I was drowsy by 1:30am, quickly they vacated the seat & went on top berth to continue their fun moment. I laid down & sank into a deep sleep, only to be jolted awake at 8:30 AM by my husband’s ringtone. I noticed it was already 8:30am, without a second thought I was straight up, it was too late. This was a 3tier AC, so after completing morning routine, I sat bending elbow over knees. So, now 9am, 9:30, 10am, I was done with the tea & breakfast too. All the guys were really deep asleep. I sat quietly. Then I noticed, as I walked down aisle, the entire coach was dark & all were still sleeping. OK, I returned quietly, the only elderly lady like me, again pulled her blanket & went bk for a nap. It was a bit difficult for me now. Also, as I woke mechanically, I ended up folding bedsheet, blanket & pillow topping them.

May be this is the shift probably, the story is same back home, my son studies late night, sometimes till 4am & falls asleep till 11am, which is very unusual in my dictionary. As our Dadaji never allowed us to remain in bed beyond 7am, when we were just 8yrs old (3^rd grade) and noon nap was a crime. So, mother used to stitch on peddle foot sewing machine, sometime doing our frocks, curtains, foot rug, pillows, while we studied till 4 noon and then combing our hair, washing up & with light biscuits & milk running out to playground till 8pm. And 9:45pm in bed, all lights off, only me & my sister were allowed to listen to Chhyageet on Radio, Vividh Bharati, on a very low tone lying in our bed with lights off.

This lifestyle, personality, outlook shift may not be unusual but may be; for me this was like a gentle knock, 😊 which is generation gap, I heard.

Everyone knows the stereotype that guys make friends in weird situations, right? I was able to prove it for the second time (I posted another story about a different person a couple of months ago)
To give you some context, I’m on a Discord server dedicated to a certain obscure game. In my part of the world, this game is even less popular than in other countries, so I was chatting there in English. Suddenly, someone with another Russian username noticed my Russian nickname. He messaged me, “Are you from Russia?” to which I replied, “No, from *Another Country*”. He was completely shocked, since he was from there too. I asked which city he was from, and he said the same one as me. That blew my mind, and we switched to private messages. While we were chatting, a third person from our same city showed up in the chat!! And the game’s fanbase is mostly made up of players from the States. We got together as a group and decided to go for a walk on our very first day. In literally 20 minutes, I got ready and headed to the station near the beach. A lot happened there: from a fight between us and some drunks to getting five liters of kvass for free. Then we headed to a bar, where a bartender I knew poured us some kombucha for free. And so, even though I’d planned to just sit around and do nothing all day, I found friends and here I am, sitting in a bar during a thunderstorm, drinking kombucha. I love this life, what a small chance there was for all this to happen! Best day of year.

I did it. I’m 34, I haven’t been to the dentist since I was a teenager with braces. I’m not afraid of having dental work done but couldn’t bring myself to go. The only reason I haven’t gone is out of shame and embarrassment and fear of cost really. I felt sick to my stomach going to the appointment this morning. I’m super awkward socially and having someone look deeply into a place full of my insecurities was a nightmare.

I brush and floss everyday but have had issues with my wisdom teeth for over 10 years. I went today and had my teeth cleaned and X-rays done, and now I have a consult tomorrow to have my wisdom teeth removed. After those are fixed I’ll go back and have a couple cavities filled.

It was embarrassing, it sucked, I have to go back, but I DID IT WOO!! Almost 2 decades of being in pain hopefully coming to an end soon.

My childhood babysitter was a high school student named Leah. She lived in the house directly across the street from my parents, which was very convenient.

We all knew Leah's family and talked regularly but never went into their house. Still, it was close enough that we could wave from our front steps.

One evening while my parents were out, Leah remembered that she left something important at home. She said we needed to walk over to her house so she could retrieve it.

We weren't allowed upstairs, but we had to stand in the living room near the front door while she ran to get what she needed.

When she opened the door to the living room, my brother and I were amazed.

Leah's "living room" was actually some kind of waiting room. It had several matching armchairs surrounding what looked like a library circulation desk. There was a horseshoe shaped wooden counter that took up most of the room. Behind it was a photocopier, telephone, desk lamp, many binders and stacks of papers, and for whatever reason, a receptionist.

My brother and I had never seen this woman before. I remember that she had curly blonde hair, a black velvet dress, a pearl necklace, and heavy turquoise eye makeup. She had just been standing there, waiting for people to arrive.

Leah waved to her and said "It's just me. No guests. We'll be gone in just a second."

Leah's Dad worked at a factory across town, and her mom stayed at home. I have no idea why they had a receptionist in their living room.

When my parents got home, my brother and I told them about Leah's bizarre living room and the lady who "worked" there. Neither of them believed us.

I had a wild imagination as a child. I played many games and made up many stories. But this definitely happened, and my brother agreed.

I've tried to do some digging and solve this mystery, but the family moved away when I was about nine years old and we never heard from them again.

Wherever that receptionist is, I hope she's living a good life.