Not an SC, really, just a dumbass kid trying to have some fun with me in one of my off moods.
So no shit, there I am see, minding my own business at the hobby hole when I get a massively failed attempt at a prank call. The call is placed by some redneck twelve-year-old and his buddies.
Call goes as follows:
Kid: Hey, ya'll got bombs?
Me: (having not quite understood the question) Do we have what?"
Kid: Bombs, idiot! (chortling in the background) As in stuff that we can use to blow up government stuff, as in ka-boom. HAWHAWHAWHAW!
and he hangs up.
I'm in a mean mood that day and am not going to tolerate any more crap. The little dirtball (I mean this literally) did not even bother to mask his number, so I've got it in my possession and the name of who it belongs to. After a reverse look-up for more information, I call back.
Kid: Hello?
Me: Yes, I recieved a call from this number about bombs.
Kid: Who is this?
Me: And about how you want to use them to blow up government property?
Kid: Naw. Who the hell is this?
Me: Well, I'm sure that your parents, the <family name>, who live at <address> would be very happy to discover that their son and his friends are going to be carted off by the FBI later this afternoon for making terrorist threats.
Kid: We were just joking!
Me: All the same, I think I'm going to hand this number over to them...
Kid: No, please! It was just a joke!
Me: It wasn't funny, was it?
Kid: No, sir.
Me: Are you going to be making any more prank calls?
Kid: No, sir.
Me: Good boy.
And that was the end of that. Sad thing is, he probably would go on to learn nothing from his little brown moment. Stupid children...
So no shit, there I am see, minding my own business at the hobby hole when I get a massively failed attempt at a prank call. The call is placed by some redneck twelve-year-old and his buddies.
Call goes as follows:
Kid: Hey, ya'll got bombs?
Me: (having not quite understood the question) Do we have what?"
Kid: Bombs, idiot! (chortling in the background) As in stuff that we can use to blow up government stuff, as in ka-boom. HAWHAWHAWHAW!
and he hangs up.
I'm in a mean mood that day and am not going to tolerate any more crap. The little dirtball (I mean this literally) did not even bother to mask his number, so I've got it in my possession and the name of who it belongs to. After a reverse look-up for more information, I call back.
Kid: Hello?
Me: Yes, I recieved a call from this number about bombs.
Kid: Who is this?
Me: And about how you want to use them to blow up government property?
Kid: Naw. Who the hell is this?
Me: Well, I'm sure that your parents, the <family name>, who live at <address> would be very happy to discover that their son and his friends are going to be carted off by the FBI later this afternoon for making terrorist threats.
Kid: We were just joking!
Me: All the same, I think I'm going to hand this number over to them...
Kid: No, please! It was just a joke!
Me: It wasn't funny, was it?
Kid: No, sir.
Me: Are you going to be making any more prank calls?
Kid: No, sir.
Me: Good boy.
And that was the end of that. Sad thing is, he probably would go on to learn nothing from his little brown moment. Stupid children...
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