Your Most Insane Animal Encounters


Welcome to Pissing Contest, a weekly story sharing circle for the the ass-draggiest time of the afternoon on the ass-draggiest time of the last day between you and the weekend. Every week, we’ll provide a prompt, you’ll share stories, and we’ll pick a winner that’s featured in the next week’s post. It’s like a pyramid scheme of outdoing each other!

Out of the one and a half million or so species of animals that exist on this planet, maybe five of them are our friends. The rest, in my estimation, would either enjoy eating us our find us annoying to menacing. Most would prefer to be left alone.

But there seven point some-odd billion of us, and every once in awhile, our paths cross with animals in a way that is disturbing, or miraculous, or harrowing, or scary, or really fucking cool, or some combination of those things. That’s what we’re going to talk about today.

Have you ever been bitten by a poisonous spider? Did an ocean swim become an accidental encounter with a giant sea turtle? How about a bear that decided to set up camp on your porch? Did your dog save you from a fire? Been mauled by a zoo animal? Have you ever heard the wolf cry to the blue corn moon?

Domesticated or wild, cute or crawly, dangerous or reassuring, we want to hear your stories of unforgettable animal encounters.

But first, last week’s winners of the Cheating Stories pissing contest. Hoo boy. There were a lot. Ginger Harrison‘s tale of the lying and fart-averse. There’s elitish7, expert bluffer. ziggybloodlust’s story of Sean the jerk. Kim Jong’s Angst and the fake lesbian. oncearoundtheamberbock’s babysitter story. And, of course, Cool ur heels Mabel’s tale of Valentine’s Day duplicity. The winner, though, is this one, from CanIHave4Beers:

A friend of mine got told on the Fourth of July that her husband wanted a divorce. He blamed her for everything – she was too in to her career, she wasn’t getting pregnant fast enough, and a bunch of other douche canoe things in a list that smelled, shall we say, fishy, from the beginning.
So she came and stayed with me for the weekend, and during that time he said he was taking some vacation time and it would be a good time for her to get her stuff out of their house. He would be gone for a week, he said.
So we went over and started boxing shit up (or I boxed shit up while she cried and I refilled her wine glass). She decided to check the answering machine, in case anyone had tried to get in touch with her that hadn’t heard. Aaaaaaaannnnnd then things became clear.
This lady muppet voice came over the speaker, saying, “oh honey, I can’t wait for our little getaway! I was so tired of sneaking around – things will only get better from here!”
Not on my watch, sister.
So I load my friend up in the car, and we go to Sam’s club for shitty frozen fish. We get two whole big fish (fuck, I didn’t even bother looking to see which kind) and five bags of frozen baby shrimp, oh, and 2 cans of tuna, packed in oil.
Then we went back to the house. The fish went in air ducts. The shrimp went in the hems of the drapes. The cans of tuna were drained of their oil, on the mattress, which was flipped over and the bed carefully remade. Then we made some delicious tuna salad sandwiches, washed our plates, dried them and put them away, and turned the heat up to 90, and left.
The end. For us. For him, not so much.

Ah, sweet, fishy revenge. The best kind. But onto the next one.

Image via Youtube/screengrab

Inline Feedbacks
View all comments
Share Tweet Submit Pin