People Share The Story They Can’t Tell Because No One Will Believe Them

People Share The Story They Can’t Tell Because No One Will Believe Them


We all have some pretty hilarious and extraordinary stories.

Some of which are completely strange and unlikely, despite actually happening.

If you were to tell people about these stories, not a lot of people would believe you.

Here are just a few incredible stories that no one else believes.



I hardly ever tell this story unless someone that knows me very well is with me to confirm it. Here it is anyway:

It was Thanksgiving night in 2006, and I had driven home from our family dinner early so I could hang out with friends. For one reason or another I had decided that I was going to destroy my liver and any other organs standing in the way of me and about a liter of whiskey. I got to my friend’s apartment and started drinking Weller’s like there was no tomorrow. Another friend of mine showed up with a liter of Seagram’s 7 and I started to dip my toes into it as well. Within an hour I had consumed more alcohol than I usually do today in an entire night of hitting it hard.

It is at this point that I decide to drive myself home, which was only around 7 or 8 blocks because I grew up in a tiny town. I walk down to my car and my friend walks with me. He fights with me for awhile about driving but after repeating how short the distance was to him a million times, he buckled and let me drive. I started my rotary engine, I drove a beat up Rx-7, and began the journey home. Two blocks from the start I hit a parked car. This is where my memory gets really fuzzy. I felt as if I had woken up from a dream, there was some drunk bastard on my hood screaming at me to get out of my car. At this moment in time, I was so messed up that I thought I had hit an actual person. I started apologizing frantically and asked the guy what happened. He was a drunk redneck that just wanted insurance money and wouldn’t talk to me other than to scream at me to stay put and wait for cops. Had I known I didn’t hurt anyone I would’ve just ran right there and dealt with that bullcrap in the morning.


The cops show up and I know the arresting officer decently from my older brothers always getting into trouble. I walk right up to him and tell him that I’m too drunk to walk, much less drive. He makes me take a field sobriety test anyway and I quickly fail. He then takes me back to the station. I do not remember the drive there nor do I remember being processed. From here on I am in and out but I’ll use info others have told me that were there. I know I blew a .234 on the breathalizer because it was on my paperwork. After being processed, some stranger takes me into a room and starts asking me questions and then typing my answers into a computer. I still don’t know what that was all about. After some time passes he stands up and tells me to wait where I am and that he will be right back. I am unaware at this point that my mother has already been contacted and is on her way to pick me up from the jail. All I know is that the I am alone in a jail and my booze-brain thinks that if I somehow make it out of there that I will be in the clear.

So the man had stood up and left me on my own. I noticed that when he left the room he went to the right. I waited a few seconds and quietly left the room and went left. At the end of the hallway there was an exit sign and a door. I bolted. I remember getting out the door, running through the gravel parking lot in the back and falling a time or two while trying to make quick turns around the jail. This jail by the way was on the outskirts of town and, as a crow flies, about a mile and a half from my parents’ house.

The sprint home is almost completely black. I do remember laying down in grass while a cop car spotlighted the area around me, and then my next memory is being back at the police station, being told how lucky I was that the arresting officer decided not to charge me with a felony for evading the police.

My mom’s point of view: Gets a call to pick up her hammered son after having Thanksgiving dinner, remember this was only about 2 hours after I had left, and I left early. When she arrives, the officer tells my mom that I, uhhh, wasn’t there anymore. So she loads up my older brothers and starts searching as well. They call me several times, I remember none of this, and they said I answered once and said that I’d be okay and I kept calling my brother “doggy” which I never do. After giving up on the search for a while and leaving it to the cops, they return home. Shortly after, my drunk self stumbles in and they throw me in the car and rush me back to the jail to plead for mercy. The next day I wake up in my underwear on the couch, home alone, with a tapping on the door. It’s a police officer looking for my brother because he was trying to fight the drunk redneck that turned me in.

NOTE: Drunk driving is extremely dangerous and I do not do it anymore. I paid a hefty price and was punished for my actions in more than one way. I deserved my punishments and I learned my lesson. I am so lucky that no one was hurt during this whole ordeal.



I’m a living witness to something known as the McMasterVille Explosion. CIL, the paint company, made explosives. Their explosives factory, which was a giant factory on the same grounds as the paint making factory.

One night the whole thing blew up. I was looking right at it when it went. Not just the explosives but (continued)