It looks like you're using an Ad Blocker.

Please white-list or disable in your ad-blocking tool.

Thank you.


Some features of ATS will be disabled while you continue to use an ad-blocker.


Hand to Hand. Best You've Dished Out. Worst You've Taken.

page: 3
<< 1  2   >>

log in


posted on Oct, 25 2015 @ 09:17 PM
a reply to: blupblup

maybe we should start a thread where we measure our dicks too...

Now you mention it i measure mine in millimetres , bigger numbers that way .

posted on Oct, 25 2015 @ 09:20 PM
My first wife. I dished out a house and she took it.

posted on Oct, 25 2015 @ 09:46 PM
A) These hands are for healing.

B) Being full of yourself will lose you friends.

C) I spent the rest of my life learning not to kill.

Pick one title and I will tell the story. They are listed in reverse chronological order. C) being when I was the youngest. Also I assume you are talking about real world hand-to-hand, no games or dreams. Which conditions I chaff under. I have killed about 350,000 people with my hands in dreams. And the hand-to-hand ... so ... no weapon stories in the list.

Mike Grouchy

posted on Oct, 25 2015 @ 09:57 PM
Ten minutes, and no request!


Mike Grouchy

posted on Oct, 25 2015 @ 09:59 PM

originally posted by: mikegrouchy

C) I spent the rest of my life learning not to kill.


posted on Oct, 25 2015 @ 10:48 PM
I'm four years old and we just moved back to Baton Rouge from Seattle. New apartment complex is right next door to the school where I will be attending kindergarten next year. In fact there are a bunch of kids in this complex, and most of them are older than me. Like five, six, seven, and one (practically a grown up) eight years old.

One of the older kids shows me around. "We don't play here." Takes me to the field between the school and the apartments. There is a huge drainage canal dividing the school from the Apartments. "We play red-rover out here. Chase. Ummm Whip it, and Hide And Seek!

I imagine all the kids, and can't wait to join in. "Well that's all. Bye bye." And he runs back to the apartments with legs longer than mine. I get through the breezeway to the courtyard and no one is there. Two stories of apartments looking onto the courtyard, and no one.

I go back out to look at the huge drainage canal. It's dry, lined with grass, and looks like a fun place to play soldier and throw pinecones. I look around the field. Nobody. I go back to the courtyard.

There is another kid I have never seen before. He's just standing, looking around, and shaking one of his hands in the air like a nervous habit. I walk up to him with a big smile "Hello! I'm Mike." He just looks at me. I figure he is about seven years old, maybe even almost a grown up at eight. "Let me show you around!"

I lead him around. "This is the breezeway." "This is the field where we play." "Over there is school where I will be going to kindergarten next year." "Over here is the canal." "I don't think we can play in there." I frown and look at him. He has a blank expression, just looking down into the canal.

We walk back to the courtyard. After we exit the breeze way into the courtyard, I realize I didn't run from him, and if I run from him now, he will know where I live. "Ok, well it was nice to meet you." He just looks at me. I say to him, "I'm going now. Bye bye." I wave and smile.

I realize he is following me. "I said I'm going now." He just looks at me. I turn and take a step. He is still following me. I turn back. "Stop following me." I walk.

He is still following me, and I'm getting close to my door now. "I ... said ... stop following me." He just looks at me with that blank face. "I mean it." I take another step and look over my shoulder. He is right behind me.

"I ....
stop... ....

I don't really remember much. I mean I was four. But I do remember what it feels like when the berserk takes over. When my self control returned, I am being pulled off the kid by numerous real parents. The kid is on the ground and I am still beating his head into the pavement with both my hands around his neck.

For the rest of our time there no kid in that complex ever plays with me. I spend a lot of time in our apartment making up my own games.

About four years later...
I find out he is autistic,
doesn't speak,
and understands very little.

I spent the rest of my life learning not to kill.

Mike Grouchy
edit on 25-10-2015 by mikegrouchy because: (no reason given)

edit on 26-10-2015 by mikegrouchy because: grammar and format

posted on Oct, 27 2015 @ 11:30 PM
I used to do professional wrestling and I was doing a live show once where I had to face this really big giant. Some French guy. Real big probably 7'6". Anyways, it took me two tries, but I was able to bodyslam this giant then finish him off with my signature leg drop. Got the 3 count and it was over. The crowd really loved it.

top topics

<< 1  2   >>

log in