Latch Key Kid
When I was 10, I was very lonely. My parents had been working day and night to get their start-up business off the ground. It was the classic latch key child scenario. As they say, idle hands are the devil’s workshop.
So after several months of spending my afternoons alone with microwave burritos and Transformers cartoons, I decided to diversify my entertainment selection. But I went way too far.
I proceeded to ransack the entire house, making it appear that a person had broken in and rummaged for money.
I broke a window, two lamps, smashed the legs off a chair and pulled every file from the cabinets in the office, and tossed them around the room like confetti.
I then called my mother and told her I’d just gotten home and found the place burglarized. She told me to get out of the house and called the authorities on her way home.
They arrived with their sirens blaring at about the same time she rolled up. They stormed the house, screaming come out with your hands up! When I saw them bashing through my front door, I knew that I had probably gone a little too far this time.
Long story short, a detective came to take a report after the patrol had cleared the premises. As I was sitting on my living room sofa, surrounded by the tattered remains of my dirty work, the detective looked me in the eyes and said, “There was no break-in, was there?” I was terrified.
The man looked right into my soul and knew the truth. And I knew he knew so lying was pointless. I burst into tears and started blubbering. He walked over, put his hand on my shoulder and said it’ll be alright.
Thankfully, I was young enough to escape any charges. My parents weren’t too harsh with their punishment either.
I guess they figured it was more a cry for help than the actions of a burgeoning sociopath. Story credit: Reddit / koushakandystore