Posted this on another thread.

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Minds me of the time I got a load of rocksalt in the ass. Old man Brown was nice about it... he hollered, "You little bastards!" from inside the house and let us get out of the tree and about 20 yards away before he fired. Well, the other kids were about 30 yards away... I was a tad pudgy. But, nice to have some padding on yer ass when ya get hit.

Breakfast wasn't fun.
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Brought back memories. Like the time I was wearing a long sleeved shirt in August heat and my old man asked me why and then told me to roll up my sleeves. He saw the hives and rash and I got a kick in the arse for raiding gardens. To this day, when I see small cucumbers, I remember that kick in the arse.

So, anyone else care to share tales of there life in crime?