Trusted a 'mate' who I knew was a twat...
Me and the lads used to drive down to our local country park to just hang around bored. We used to variously play footie, lark around in general, and sit on the back of the car smoking joints.

One of my mates, J, used to sometimes get into the car and drive it at an infuriatingly slow pace backwards and forwards over a speed bumps to see how long it would take for us to get annoyed and jump off.

Another 'mate', T, was a complete twat - never knew/cared when he'd gone to far and was generally being annoying for his own amusement, rather than for everyone's amusement, ie, for a laugh, as J was. He also, as if to drive home the point, possesed the world's most shit-eatingest shit-eating grin you've ever seen. Even if you didn't know he was a twat, you'd still want to punch him in the face if he pulled it. I never understood why the others didn't care about this, but hey ho, they didn't, so he used to hang around with us too.

One day T gets into the car and starts to drive, a little faster than J ever did, with three of us on the back, J included. Knowing T was a twat, I wanted to get off, but thought to myself "no, even he wouldn't be so much of a twat that he'll go any faster, and this is fine".

Wrong. He then speeds up a bit, and it's a little too fast to be jumping off without risking falling over. "He'll stop in a minute, then we'll kick his arse" me and J said as we went over a speed bump.

He then steps it up a notch, and me and J are kicking ourselves for not jumping when we might have fallen over, because if we jump now we'll definitely go arse over tit. We're alternately telling each other we're gonna kick his arse when he stops and shouting the same thing at him.

Finally we run out of straight road. "He has to stop now" we think, "even T... blah blah", you get the picture. He didn't. He boots it as he jerks the car around the corner, and we're hanging on by fuck-knows-what for as long as we can. Finally I can't hold on, slide off sideways and knock J off balance, who falls off too. I'm sliding across gravel-covered tarmac*, and J has landed on top of me which ensures that I don't roll, but scrape across with his additional weight grinding me into it.

T then stops, gets out and is chased by an effing, blinding and see-you-next-tuesdaying J. I'm getting up and surveying the damage - Nasty road rash in various places, most notably one entire side of my forearm, down to whatever layer it is that oozes clear stuff and spots of blood for days apparently, as that's what it did. I also appeared to be missing the skin on the boney bit of my wrist, and unable to move it.

I look up, and T is there wearing his shit-eating grin while I'm unable to beat him senseless. The guy's a twat (I may not have mentioned this).

Eventually we get to A&E where I discover the treatment for road-rash is to remove the lumps of gravel with a pair of tweezers. They can't numb it for fuck-knows-what-reason, and it hurts like hell. They then rub an anti-inflamatory and anti-septic gel into it. With a toothbrush. A fucking toothbrush, for fuck's sake. What's wrong with these people?**

I didn't move that wrist again for a week when the scab formed - the slightest movement would tear it and hurt like a bitch all day. When it finally came off it was almost a centimetre thick. This was over 10 years ago now, I've barely seen T since, and I'd still probably kill the bastard given half a chance. I still have the scars, yay! One white patch on my wrist, and a nice round shape on my forearm that's invisible in the winter, but tans less in the summer :)

T's a twat. Twat, twat, twat, twat, twat. The stupid thing is, I've always known he was a twat. I have no idea why I didn't just jump off the minute he went near the driver's door. That was exactly the kind of thing he'd do.

(Length: We guessed we'd slid for about 3 or 4 metres before we started to roll, but who knows. I wasn't really in the mood for measuring the length of the streak of peeled skin)

* Why? It's tarmac OR gravel, not both. This was fine-grained gravel, laid thick enough that it couldn't have been anything but deliberate. What possible purpose could having both serve, other than to ensure that people who are thrown from cars get the full cheese-grating effect? Fuckers.

** Only kidding! I'm sure there's a good reason, and yes, I'm well aware that I'm a complete girl about this kind of thing. But at least I don't cry.

*Edit: Christ on a bike! Many apologies for length, I had no idea I'd typed for that long :)*
(misanthrope is so adjective he's verbing nouns!, Fri 21 Dec 2007, 1:18, 2 replies)

This made me laugh and wince in equal measure
*click*
(Pavlov's Frog figures no-one really reads sigs anyway, Fri 21 Dec 2007, 1:24, closed)

Agh!
Where's the blood soaked tale of revenge? I hate this sort of idiot with a passion. Pranks are one thing but when someone actually endangers lives then still thinks it's funny... arrrghhh!
(Tomble Underground, overground, Tombling free., Fri 21 Dec 2007, 2:26, closed)