I got into a lot of shit in middle school and most of the time my parents would be either pissed or disappointed with me. However, when it really did count my dad did the right thing.
I was a couple months into grade 8 when I got into yet another fight, I got picked on a lot back then and it often got ugly. Some asshole punched me right in the glasses just because he could and after a brief scuffle I knocked his lights out, then got the shit kicked out of me by his friends. Somehow, I'm the only who gets suspended, everyone else got off scot-free.
The school calls my parents in to explain the situation and take me home. My dad was outraged to say the least. He cussed and yelled at the Principal, Vice-Principal, and Guidance Counsellor for a good 5-10 minutes without letting them get a word in. It basically came down to "this is bullshit and you know it, and you're not going to do this to my son". They caved, and I didn't get suspended. Having been on the wrong end of my dad's tirades, I can't say I'm too surprised, it's the most intimidating and humiliating experiences I've had in my life.
Bad Ass Dad Stories
Moderator: Edi
My father hasn't always been the best father, or even husband, but I won't go into that. I admire and respect him for all those times he jumped out of bed at 3 am and drove down to the hospital to ensure that the tiny person ready to come into the world made it through, or that the mother of that new miracle didn't bleed half to death from a vaginal tear. I admire that he would look forward to his Wednesday surgery schedule, not just because he loves the practical work but because he was helping people with ratbastard maladies like cervical cancer.
Maybe not a bad arse, but certainly looked up to by his only son.
Maybe not a bad arse, but certainly looked up to by his only son.
lol, opsec doesn't apply to fanfiction. -Aaron
PRFYNAFBTFC
CAPTAIN OF MFS SAMMY HAGAR
PRFYNAFBTFC
CAPTAIN OF MFS SAMMY HAGAR
My dad isn't that much of a BAMF, but my grandfather's a different story; he grew up in Communist China during Mao's reign. I tell ya, it's gotta take some serious balls to accuse party members of corruption and actually follow through on the charges (and live). My dad never mentioned the specific details of how my grandfather did that, but I'll find out how he did one day.
PRFYNAFBTFC - Verendo Iugula
Commander, Halifax-Class Frigate
MFS Doom Panda
Well my dad was the opposite, but luckily I wasn't into picking fights. But my brother was, and it causes psychological problems to him to this day. My brother blew a surprise birthday party for the teacher, and was kind of an attention whore, so half the class decided to kick his ass. We're talking lookouts and distractions to make sure teachers didn't see, and stringing him up in the playground and beating him to a pulp. My dad took the side of the school, and my brother hates my dad to this day. It's taken years for him to finally put that behind him, and only after dad was dead. Wasn't just this one thing: dad always took the side of the school, and it hurt my brother and me too.aerius wrote:I got into a lot of shit in middle school and most of the time my parents would be either pissed or disappointed with me. However, when it really did count my dad did the right thing.
I was a couple months into grade 8 when I got into yet another fight, I got picked on a lot back then and it often got ugly. Some asshole punched me right in the glasses just because he could and after a brief scuffle I knocked his lights out, then got the shit kicked out of me by his friends. Somehow, I'm the only who gets suspended, everyone else got off scot-free.
The school calls my parents in to explain the situation and take me home. My dad was outraged to say the least. He cussed and yelled at the Principal, Vice-Principal, and Guidance Counsellor for a good 5-10 minutes without letting them get a word in. It basically came down to "this is bullshit and you know it, and you're not going to do this to my son". They caved, and I didn't get suspended. Having been on the wrong end of my dad's tirades, I can't say I'm too surprised, it's the most intimidating and humiliating experiences I've had in my life.
So I can almost see where parents come from when they defend their children no matter how bad they are, because if you don't you run the risk of not supporting your child when he's right. But the trick is not to raise him like a spoiled brat so you can support him and be confident he didn't fuck up. Most people should not have children.
Some info on my dad. He's a short, but stocky and half Mohawk/half Irish, and both are very apparent in his personality. He's worked manual labor and played sports his whole life, so he's fit and athletic as well, and he doesn't take shit from anyone (unless it's a customer of his, in which case he's a cloying little suckup, even if they're sadistic assholes). He supports Native causes, and he does not like French Quebecers.
He certainly isn't the best dad. He was a drunk, he robbed banks in his youth, he was a very neglectful parent and he abused my mom. But I've tried to forget all that in the name of peace.
Anyway, this took place when I was around 10 or 11. My dad would have been 57 at this point. We'd just moved into a new house, and one night, these strange men ring the doorbell. My mom doesn't answer the door, since she has no idea who they are.
When nobody answers, they start circling the house, looking in through the windows, and harassing us. We take refuge in the basement, and when they don't let up, my mom sends me upstairs to get the phone so that we can call the cops and my dad.
One of them sees me getting the phone, and shouts through the mail slot that "We'll get in before you call the police."
At this point, we're scared shitless, wondering who the fuck these people are and what they want. They don't look thuggish or criminal like, but their actions certainly imply that's what they are.
Eventually, my mom opens the door, asking them what they want. It turns out they're bailiffs, and they think we owe them lots of money (it was actually the previous tenants of the house that they were looking for), my mom argues with the guy, telling him he has the wrong people, but the guy persists. The cops and my dad have been called already, but they still haven't arrived.
After a few minutes my dad shows up. This is the exchange. It's from memory, so it's not exact, but it gets the jist of it.
French Bailiff: You owe us a lot of money, monsieur.
My Dad: GET THE FUCK OFF MY PROPERTY!!
French Bailiff: We have a right to be here, monsieur, you must make payment arrangements.
My Dad: THIS IS INDIAN LAND, MY LAND, NOW GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!!
At this point, luckily for the Frenchman, the cops show up, and the dumb Pepsis finally understand that they have the wrong people. The funny thing about my dad is he does not hold grudges at all (unless you've screwed him for money. In that case, his grudges are absolute and unending) A few minutes later, my dad and the guy he came close to assaulting are talking amicably about the hockey or something.
He certainly isn't the best dad. He was a drunk, he robbed banks in his youth, he was a very neglectful parent and he abused my mom. But I've tried to forget all that in the name of peace.
Anyway, this took place when I was around 10 or 11. My dad would have been 57 at this point. We'd just moved into a new house, and one night, these strange men ring the doorbell. My mom doesn't answer the door, since she has no idea who they are.
When nobody answers, they start circling the house, looking in through the windows, and harassing us. We take refuge in the basement, and when they don't let up, my mom sends me upstairs to get the phone so that we can call the cops and my dad.
One of them sees me getting the phone, and shouts through the mail slot that "We'll get in before you call the police."
At this point, we're scared shitless, wondering who the fuck these people are and what they want. They don't look thuggish or criminal like, but their actions certainly imply that's what they are.
Eventually, my mom opens the door, asking them what they want. It turns out they're bailiffs, and they think we owe them lots of money (it was actually the previous tenants of the house that they were looking for), my mom argues with the guy, telling him he has the wrong people, but the guy persists. The cops and my dad have been called already, but they still haven't arrived.
After a few minutes my dad shows up. This is the exchange. It's from memory, so it's not exact, but it gets the jist of it.
French Bailiff: You owe us a lot of money, monsieur.
My Dad: GET THE FUCK OFF MY PROPERTY!!
French Bailiff: We have a right to be here, monsieur, you must make payment arrangements.
My Dad: THIS IS INDIAN LAND, MY LAND, NOW GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!!
At this point, luckily for the Frenchman, the cops show up, and the dumb Pepsis finally understand that they have the wrong people. The funny thing about my dad is he does not hold grudges at all (unless you've screwed him for money. In that case, his grudges are absolute and unending) A few minutes later, my dad and the guy he came close to assaulting are talking amicably about the hockey or something.