in the EXTREMELY UNLIKELY event our house would burn to the ground. I had become so worked up by the concept of this entirely imaginary inferno that'd engulf our entire street that my parents decided "you know what? we'll stay at home"
My parents were all ready and on the verge of going out for an evening when I said "what do I do if there's a fire? what if the house burns down? what if I can't open the front door? or the patio door? or the back door?" and all sorts of other questions about what to dohttps://twitter.com/prinxeMu/status/1015765362170826752 …
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my justification for not breaking a window to escape was "I don't want to have to pay for it, I only get £2 pocket money a week" (that money got me a LOT of shit back then. A magazine, a drink AND a chocolate bar WITH CHANGE)
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West Country guy living in Wales. Football Manager & World of Warcraft obsessive. The gayest.
story you have from your early childhood.
Mine is when my mom told me not to touch the electric stove when it was red, because that meant it was hot, so I made direct eye contact with her and slapped my hand down on the stove top.