Screwing around with archaic weaponry like it was a toy — like in this story — causes all kinds of problems. I almost died as a teenager due to that.

I hung out with a group of reenactors and European-style martial artists, and I had been experimenting with homemade practice armor. My stuff wasn’t pretty, but it cost almost nothing and was quite effective, as was demonstrated by this one idiot.

He was the cousin of one of our members that was visiting. He’d gotten ahold of a poniard dagger and was screwing around with it — slashes, stabs, etc. Just as I came around a corner to show off my newest, best cuirass — thankfully, I was wearing it — the idiot did a backhanded stab that thunked into the solar plexus area of the cuirass.

Everyone’s eyes got big as I rocked back on my heels. They’d been telling him to put the dagger away and stop screwing around before someone got hurt.

Luckily, the guy he accidentally stabbed was wearing armor intended for use with live blades, on the theory that if it could handle battle-sharp steel, practice weapons wouldn’t leave a mark.

The blade went in about an inch into the cuirass, and then the tip snapped off.

I got a few orders for armor pieces from people who saw that happen.

(Editor’s Note: A cuirass is armor consisting of a breastplate and a backplate fastened together.)

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His Problems Are Quickly Compounding

When I was about ten, my father and I were fishing from a pier in Florida. There were people every few yards, so it was pretty crowded so early in the morning. I’d been fishing for a while so I knew a bit about it, even as young as I was.

There was another father-son duo behind us on the other side of the pier. Everybody talked to each other in those days, so it was a pleasant outing.

Suddenly, the kid, maybe five or six, got a bite, and his dad was helping him reel it in.

As soon as the fish came out of the water, the kid hollered:

Kid: “It’s a baby whale! Daddy, I caught a baby whale!”

All the people within earshot took notice and watched as the kid reeled in his first blowfish.

I work in the city and usually take the bus home. As anyone who commutes knows, these buses can get packed, especially during rush hour. On this particular day, I managed to snag a seat, which felt like winning the lottery after a long day at work. I had my earbuds in and was half-asleep, lost in my music.

A few stops into my ride, a woman and her son, who looked to be about ten years old, got on the bus. It was clear from the get-go that there were no seats available, but that didn’t stop [Woman] from scanning the bus like she was on a mission. She locked eyes with me and bee-lined in my direction.

She spoke to me in a tone that was more demanding than polite.

Woman: “Excuse me, could you let my son sit down? He’s really tired from his day and needs to sit.”

I was surprised that she singled me out since there were other people, some elderly, standing, as well. I was about to respond, maybe even stand up, despite feeling exhausted myself, when another woman standing nearby spoke up.

Helpful Woman: *In a kind but firm tone* “Ma’am, it’s not right to single out someone for their seat. We’re all tired after a long day. Perhaps your son can manage standing for a bit.”

[Woman]’s face turned a shade of red.

Woman: “But he’s just a child, and children need to sit. It’s common courtesy!”

The bus was unusually silent, with everyone seemingly tuned into our conversation. [Helpful Woman], undeterred, replied:

Helpful Woman: “I understand, but so do the elderly, the disabled, and those who’ve had long days at work. We can’t always expect others to give up their comfort for us. It’s a valuable lesson in consideration and patience.”

[Woman] looked ready to argue more but seemed to realize that the bus audience wasn’t on her side. She muttered something under her breath about “rude people” and moved slightly away, still standing.

The rest of the ride was uneventful, but the atmosphere felt a bit charged.

When my stop arrived, I got up, and as I passed [Helpful Woman], she gave me a small smile and a nod as if to say, “You did the right thing.” I nodded back in gratitude, feeling relieved but also a bit surprised at how the situation unfolded.

My husband injured his back and can’t lift heavy things. When we go grocery shopping, I do the loading and unloading. We just came from our local bulk retailer, so everything is big and often heavier than he is comfortable lifting. He climbs in the car, and I start unloading the cart.

A man is passing by and speaks up. 

Man: “What’s wrong? Don’t you have a man to do that for you?”

Me: “I’m fine, thank you.”

Man: “I see him in the car. Why doesn’t he help?”

Me: “I said I’m fine.”

Man: “I just think women shouldn’t do heavy lifting like that. Your body isn’t—”

Me: *Sigh* “Fine, load my car.”

Man: “What?”

Me: “Are you not a man?”

Man: “I’m not your husband!”

Me: “Then maybe f*** off.”

He walks off, but I can hear him muttering to himself. When I get in the car, my husband is sitting in his seat grinning. 

Husband: *Joking* “You poor, useless woman.”

Me: “I know, I know.”

I’m fifteen years old. Last week, I had an orthodontist appointment. I decided to watch some Netflix while I waited for my name to be called; I started watching “Schitt’s Creek”.

A few minutes later, I noticed this middle-aged lady with blonde frizzy hair just looking at me in this weird way. Sitting next to her was a boy who looked about eleven years old and a girl who looked around four years old. I kind of looked up at them, and the woman gave me this weird smile. (She should have been wearing a mask as they are required in the waiting room.)

Lady: “Kids, go along and see what that girl is doing with her phone.”

I was really weirded out but, of course, I didn’t do anything. The kids got close — less than a foot away from me, and neither was wearing a mask. I was uncomfortable.

Me: *To the lady* “Can you please tell your kids to back off? They are way too close.”

The kids just got closer and started staring at my phone screen. At that point, I was so annoyed that I just turned off my phone, thinking they’d go away.

Nope. The mom saw and YELLED at me:

Lady: “Let my kids watch a show!”

Me: “No. I don’t want them to watch shows on my phone.”

She did not like this. She walked over to me, grabbed my phone from my hand, and started demanding the password — which, of course, I did not tell her.

At that point, my name was called. I grabbed my phone back and left the waiting room to go get my braces adjusted.

About fifteen minutes later, the eleven-year-old came and sat down on the orthodontist chair next to me — he too had braces — and he actually apologized for his mom. Honestly, I was surprised.