A Smashing Entrance
By Torre De Roche (View profile)
One of the most embarrassing moments of my life happened in an art gallery. I was wandering around a crowded exhibition when something unimaginable happened. A painting on the wall across the room caught my eye, and, captivated, I began walking towards it to get a closer look.
My foot knocked something and I didn't have time to look down before I heard a dreadful splintering, smashing, crashing sound at my feet. The obnoxious noise echoed off the white gallery walls. I looked down to see that a sculpture made of several delicate hand-blown glass bowls was a sculpture no more. I had annihilated it with my giant clown feet.
After the last glass shard fell, the room turned dead silent. There was only the sound of me swallowing hard. My body froze, and my incriminating foot remained lodged in the shattered mess. Thirty sets of eyes fixed on my burning cheeks, waiting for me to ... what? Pull a tube of super glue from my back pocket? I concentrated all of my energy into spontaneously combusting into flames. Unfortunately, that didn't happen. Instead, I moonwalked out of the mess and out of the gallery, and then I shuffled off to find a dark hiding place.
I found the gallery curator so that I could confess my crime. "Don't worry," he said, "It happens all the time."
About Torre: She faced her fear of the ocean by sailing the Pacific aboard a sink-happy boat with a man she met in a bar. She is the author of "Love with a Chance of Drowning" and she tweets at @FearfulGirl.
An Ill Wind (1964)
By Dom Glassenbury (View profile)
On an idyllic beach in Greece, my English friend and I were doing our best to impress two young German girls. Communication was stilted because they spoke very little English and we no German. However, we seemed to be doing well.
Having suffered the adverse effects from local water, I was experiencing stomach pains. To alleviate the problem, I took the chance and passed a little wind, with disastrous effects. Fortunately, the change rooms were in sight, I was rescued. After a swim, the problem pants were left behind in the change room.
We walked away, my dignity intact or so I thought. Alas, a large Greek female change room attendant came running down the beach after us, underpants held high, calling "Senor, Senor".
About Dom: He is a modern day camera expert from Australia who relished his times hitch-hiking from France to Greece in the 60's.
These two classic stories were originally submitted by Torre De Roche and Dom Glassenbury on bytestories.com.
In case you want to do something constructive (and fun) while you're a bus or train next, create your account and publish a story for your friends and/or family to read. You will enjoy the experience!Suggest a correction