Tard stories
Posted by Cambion
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Tard stories May 23, 2013 |
After re-re-re-reading the classic tales over on Tard Blog, I wanted to start a fun little topic here for folks to tell their own tard stories. It can be anything - favorite news articles, topics from other forums, personal experiences with retards, whatever you'd like to share. 
I can start by telling the story of Spedley, the big fat poorly-medicated schizophrenic that I had to live with for two weeks. I've mentioned him here a few times, but I don't know if I ever told more of the whole story. A little about Spedley: Well over six feet tall, around 270 pounds, very strong, on some very strong shit for his schizophrenia, fucking irritating when he's medicated and fucking scary when he's not. His meds cost somewhere in the range of $2000 a month, but try sticking a pill down a big fat retard's throat, especially when he decides he doesn't need them. More often than not, pills went down the sink drain, in his pockets or just were left on the table. Here's a fun little list of some of the shit he did while I had to babysit his dumb ass (my whole two week break from college):
- Drank TONS of soda. Like a whole 12-pack in two days. Due to the heavy tranquilizers he was on, he wouldn't wake up from sleep when his bladder was full, so he would piss wherever he slept. The couch, the recliner, the bed, and for some reason on the bathroom floor rather than in the toilet. Mom quit buying soda to prevent the pissing, but with there being a gas station about 1/4 mile from the house, Spedley would just walk down there every day and buy a couple 2-liters. Mom would leave pissy blankets and clothes on the porch for Duh to take to the laundromat. He was there about every other day.
- Got pissed at my mother over nothing and told her to get out of her own house. Mom had to wait out in the yard until Duh came home to get Spedley under control.
- Decided to destroy several of the flower beds in the yard, tearing flower bulbs out of the dirt and uprooting a trellis. He says he was doing "crop rotation." Mom had an unholy shit fit. Duh helped Spedley conceal what he did by taking the bulbs and throwing them around the yard, which is why there are several spots in the yard where one single daffodil is growing.
- Duh paid Spedley $100 to "clean" the shed, meaning throw shit all over the place and open every single box and bag he could find.
- While fully medicated, Spedley forced me to sit down for a whole hour to listen to Tony Robbins tapes and would tell me stuff like, "It's easy to make a thousand dollars. You're going to write down a thousand things that will earn you a dollar."
- One of the items he brought with him on the plane was a CD with instructions on how to make bombs. He was chosen for a random luggage search and, shockingly, was still allowed to travel.
- Spedley's Moo absolutely refused to put him in an institution, insisting that their home state had no faclilties for retards and that he needs to stay here in one of the local nut houses/group homes. Funny, I looked up psych hospitals and the like and found over 30 locations in their state. Methinks Moomie just didn't want to deal with him anymore and wanted him as far away from her as possible.
- Demanded that I make things for him, like make him a video game or draw his stupid patent idea. His brilliant game idea was a Christianity-based fighting game with Jason Voorhees.
- Got himself thrown out of the thrift store because he told one of the rather endowed female employees that she should wear a back brace.
- Smoked in the house and flicked the ashes all over the floor.
- Drank beer when he wasn't supposed to have alcohol with his meds.
- Did weird shit like sitting in the garage in total darkness playing with my cats. Unfortunately, there was no way to separate him and my cats, but thank gods (and shockingly) he never harmed them. He did like to beat on the dog, though. Mom put a padlock on the dog's cage to keep him away from her and he had a fit, screaming that he could easily break the lock off if he really wanted to get at the dog.
- Saw a mother kitty with her three babies while in the car, and expressed how much he wanted to stick them all in a sack, string the sack up on a clothesline and beat it with a baseball bat.
- His father ALWAYS took his side. Spedley cwas a big fat retarded saint and my mom and I were always wrong no matter what. Of course he would spend a couple hours with the tard each day, at BEST. Usually the moron was out carousing all night with his buddies. Meanwhile, I was alone with Spedley from the time my mother left for work until she got home, which was 10-12 hours. Then Mom took over tard-sitting and I got a break. This big fat dumb fucker was in no way related to either me or my mom, either by blood or law, but we were dealing with him the most. Duh even said that if the police laid a hand on his darling, he'd have to kill those cops.
Another fun thing is my mother informed me I was, under no circumstances, to call 911 if Spedley's behavior got really bad or violent. Nope, don't call the cops because oh NOEZ Duh might leeeeeave if we Baker Act his tard! I was told, if he got violent, to lock myself in my bedroom and call Mom on my cell phone. There are a few issues with this. One, this guy could easily break down my door. Two, my cell phone doesn't get a good signal where I live. Three, WTF is my mother going to do? By the time she pulled her thumb out of her ass, I could be dead. But hey, as long as Spedley's duhddy wasn't upset, right? Surprisingly, the worst Spedley got with me physically was he dropped an apple on my head. I'm glad that was the worst of the damage.
I was never so fucking happy to go back to school, but Spedley was at the house for another two weeks, so you can imagine how much I worried about the cats and dog. Eventually, Spedley was admitted when he really lost it one morning and broke a full pot of hot coffee over his empty head. He was sent back to HomeState after being in the psych ward for a month.
My mother called his Moo and told her he is not welcome back in her house ever again. Spedley's Moo said that wouldn't work for her because Spedley needs to be here for psych treatment. A few years after that first visit, guess who shows up in the front yard? Yeah, Spedley! I was out of town at the time, but when Mom didn't answer the door, Spedley went wandering off in the backyard. Mom called the police to come get him and he was shockingly cooperative. Spedley's uncle refused to put him up because said uncle has lots of firearms in his house, so Uncle paid for not only a cab, but a hotel room for that day, and then Spedley had to call Moo and get her to buy his ass a ticket back home. Well, my mom said he wasn't welcome back, so it's not one's fault but the Moo's if she chooses to not listen. Since then, Spedley has been in and out of psych wards and his Moo FINALLY stuck him in a real long-term nut house.
He still calls here now and then, usually at retarded hours like 4 in the morning. Honestly, I cannot understand a word of what he says. I don't know if it's from being in a chemical stupor or what, but it all just sounds like grunting and mumbling about random shit like a patent, how he's going to France, he's going to be an engineer, he needs money, he wants to come here for his birthday, he wants Cambion to draw him a picture, and other assorted bullshit. That's just what I can make out from his Tardese.
Do share your best tard stories!
I can start by telling the story of Spedley, the big fat poorly-medicated schizophrenic that I had to live with for two weeks. I've mentioned him here a few times, but I don't know if I ever told more of the whole story. A little about Spedley: Well over six feet tall, around 270 pounds, very strong, on some very strong shit for his schizophrenia, fucking irritating when he's medicated and fucking scary when he's not. His meds cost somewhere in the range of $2000 a month, but try sticking a pill down a big fat retard's throat, especially when he decides he doesn't need them. More often than not, pills went down the sink drain, in his pockets or just were left on the table. Here's a fun little list of some of the shit he did while I had to babysit his dumb ass (my whole two week break from college):
- Drank TONS of soda. Like a whole 12-pack in two days. Due to the heavy tranquilizers he was on, he wouldn't wake up from sleep when his bladder was full, so he would piss wherever he slept. The couch, the recliner, the bed, and for some reason on the bathroom floor rather than in the toilet. Mom quit buying soda to prevent the pissing, but with there being a gas station about 1/4 mile from the house, Spedley would just walk down there every day and buy a couple 2-liters. Mom would leave pissy blankets and clothes on the porch for Duh to take to the laundromat. He was there about every other day.
- Got pissed at my mother over nothing and told her to get out of her own house. Mom had to wait out in the yard until Duh came home to get Spedley under control.
- Decided to destroy several of the flower beds in the yard, tearing flower bulbs out of the dirt and uprooting a trellis. He says he was doing "crop rotation." Mom had an unholy shit fit. Duh helped Spedley conceal what he did by taking the bulbs and throwing them around the yard, which is why there are several spots in the yard where one single daffodil is growing.
- Duh paid Spedley $100 to "clean" the shed, meaning throw shit all over the place and open every single box and bag he could find.
- While fully medicated, Spedley forced me to sit down for a whole hour to listen to Tony Robbins tapes and would tell me stuff like, "It's easy to make a thousand dollars. You're going to write down a thousand things that will earn you a dollar."
- One of the items he brought with him on the plane was a CD with instructions on how to make bombs. He was chosen for a random luggage search and, shockingly, was still allowed to travel.
- Spedley's Moo absolutely refused to put him in an institution, insisting that their home state had no faclilties for retards and that he needs to stay here in one of the local nut houses/group homes. Funny, I looked up psych hospitals and the like and found over 30 locations in their state. Methinks Moomie just didn't want to deal with him anymore and wanted him as far away from her as possible.
- Demanded that I make things for him, like make him a video game or draw his stupid patent idea. His brilliant game idea was a Christianity-based fighting game with Jason Voorhees.
- Got himself thrown out of the thrift store because he told one of the rather endowed female employees that she should wear a back brace.
- Smoked in the house and flicked the ashes all over the floor.
- Drank beer when he wasn't supposed to have alcohol with his meds.
- Did weird shit like sitting in the garage in total darkness playing with my cats. Unfortunately, there was no way to separate him and my cats, but thank gods (and shockingly) he never harmed them. He did like to beat on the dog, though. Mom put a padlock on the dog's cage to keep him away from her and he had a fit, screaming that he could easily break the lock off if he really wanted to get at the dog.
- Saw a mother kitty with her three babies while in the car, and expressed how much he wanted to stick them all in a sack, string the sack up on a clothesline and beat it with a baseball bat.
- His father ALWAYS took his side. Spedley cwas a big fat retarded saint and my mom and I were always wrong no matter what. Of course he would spend a couple hours with the tard each day, at BEST. Usually the moron was out carousing all night with his buddies. Meanwhile, I was alone with Spedley from the time my mother left for work until she got home, which was 10-12 hours. Then Mom took over tard-sitting and I got a break. This big fat dumb fucker was in no way related to either me or my mom, either by blood or law, but we were dealing with him the most. Duh even said that if the police laid a hand on his darling, he'd have to kill those cops.
Another fun thing is my mother informed me I was, under no circumstances, to call 911 if Spedley's behavior got really bad or violent. Nope, don't call the cops because oh NOEZ Duh might leeeeeave if we Baker Act his tard! I was told, if he got violent, to lock myself in my bedroom and call Mom on my cell phone. There are a few issues with this. One, this guy could easily break down my door. Two, my cell phone doesn't get a good signal where I live. Three, WTF is my mother going to do? By the time she pulled her thumb out of her ass, I could be dead. But hey, as long as Spedley's duhddy wasn't upset, right? Surprisingly, the worst Spedley got with me physically was he dropped an apple on my head. I'm glad that was the worst of the damage.
I was never so fucking happy to go back to school, but Spedley was at the house for another two weeks, so you can imagine how much I worried about the cats and dog. Eventually, Spedley was admitted when he really lost it one morning and broke a full pot of hot coffee over his empty head. He was sent back to HomeState after being in the psych ward for a month.
My mother called his Moo and told her he is not welcome back in her house ever again. Spedley's Moo said that wouldn't work for her because Spedley needs to be here for psych treatment. A few years after that first visit, guess who shows up in the front yard? Yeah, Spedley! I was out of town at the time, but when Mom didn't answer the door, Spedley went wandering off in the backyard. Mom called the police to come get him and he was shockingly cooperative. Spedley's uncle refused to put him up because said uncle has lots of firearms in his house, so Uncle paid for not only a cab, but a hotel room for that day, and then Spedley had to call Moo and get her to buy his ass a ticket back home. Well, my mom said he wasn't welcome back, so it's not one's fault but the Moo's if she chooses to not listen. Since then, Spedley has been in and out of psych wards and his Moo FINALLY stuck him in a real long-term nut house.
He still calls here now and then, usually at retarded hours like 4 in the morning. Honestly, I cannot understand a word of what he says. I don't know if it's from being in a chemical stupor or what, but it all just sounds like grunting and mumbling about random shit like a patent, how he's going to France, he's going to be an engineer, he needs money, he wants to come here for his birthday, he wants Cambion to draw him a picture, and other assorted bullshit. That's just what I can make out from his Tardese.
Do share your best tard stories!
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Re: Tard stories May 23, 2013 |
Wow, that's a special story indeed, Kim. Because that's what big fat retards need - to be encouraged to breed. Normal fundies are retarded enough. But speaking of church tards, I remember always seeing this one girl who was obviously not quite right in the head. She always had a bowl cut and always looked like she was power walking. Way back when I still was required to attend church for school purposes (cocksucker religion teacher made us write about the Sunday sermon, so we all had to go to church), she'd be in church with her parents, having the occasional outburst. Then her parents took her up for communion and they'd tell her to eat it because it would help her. Yeah, the cardboard wafer is gonna cure retardation.
I think I talked about this girl before too. Someone I went to high school with for a short time, I'll call her Mary. I honestly don't know if she was retarded or just incredibly socially awkward. I think it might have been some of both - not quite fucked enough to be in the tard classroom, but not honors material. I met Mary at orientation and she decided to sit with me and talk to me, and I was nice to her. This granted me interesting immunity, as in I could make fun of her and she'd laugh, but if someone else did, she got pissed.
Mary was also in my art class, and most people picked on her because she acted and dressed like a freak. She would come in wearing things like a floral print muumuu and combat boots, and would sit and make a hit list that included everyone in class but me and would tell those people they were on the list (she surprisingly never got in trouble), and she would regale us with stories (which may or may not have been true) about how her father beat her with baseball bats all the time.
Mary was only at my high school a short time and then she disappeared. Curious, I looked for her online not too long ago. She still looks exactly the same (she was no looker. She could make a blind man flinch), same haircut and everything. She's shat out two kids in the last six or seven years, but is a single Moo. So I'm guessing she got knocked up from one-night stands with guys who were reeeeally desperate. I'm not sure this qualifies as a tard story since, as said, I really don't know if she was retarded. She seemed at least mildly so, and her face just had "that" classic tard look to it.
And I remember this flailing tard on the bus named Randy, a kid of about 10 or 11 with red hair and big stupid teeth that would cackle and rub his crotch for the whole ride while yelling out "pecker" every so often.
Hope you don't mind if I post this, Kim. I went looking for this story a few days ago. Further down in the link is Kim's tale of Sammy the Man-Tard.
http://www.refugees.bratfree.com/read.php?2,264428,264723
I think I talked about this girl before too. Someone I went to high school with for a short time, I'll call her Mary. I honestly don't know if she was retarded or just incredibly socially awkward. I think it might have been some of both - not quite fucked enough to be in the tard classroom, but not honors material. I met Mary at orientation and she decided to sit with me and talk to me, and I was nice to her. This granted me interesting immunity, as in I could make fun of her and she'd laugh, but if someone else did, she got pissed.
Mary was also in my art class, and most people picked on her because she acted and dressed like a freak. She would come in wearing things like a floral print muumuu and combat boots, and would sit and make a hit list that included everyone in class but me and would tell those people they were on the list (she surprisingly never got in trouble), and she would regale us with stories (which may or may not have been true) about how her father beat her with baseball bats all the time.
Mary was only at my high school a short time and then she disappeared. Curious, I looked for her online not too long ago. She still looks exactly the same (she was no looker. She could make a blind man flinch), same haircut and everything. She's shat out two kids in the last six or seven years, but is a single Moo. So I'm guessing she got knocked up from one-night stands with guys who were reeeeally desperate. I'm not sure this qualifies as a tard story since, as said, I really don't know if she was retarded. She seemed at least mildly so, and her face just had "that" classic tard look to it.
And I remember this flailing tard on the bus named Randy, a kid of about 10 or 11 with red hair and big stupid teeth that would cackle and rub his crotch for the whole ride while yelling out "pecker" every so often.
Hope you don't mind if I post this, Kim. I went looking for this story a few days ago. Further down in the link is Kim's tale of Sammy the Man-Tard.
http://www.refugees.bratfree.com/read.php?2,264428,264723
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Re: Tard stories May 23, 2013 |
Quote
Cambion
After re-re-re-reading the classic tales over on Tard Blog, I wanted to start a fun little topic here for folks to tell their own tard stories. It can be anything - favorite news articles, topics from other forums, personal experiences with retards, whatever you'd like to share.
I can start by telling the story of Spedley, the big fat poorly-medicated schizophrenic that I had to live with for two weeks. I've mentioned him here a few times, but I don't know if I ever told more of the whole story. A little about Spedley: Well over six feet tall, around 270 pounds, very strong, on some very strong shit for his schizophrenia, fucking irritating when he's medicated and fucking scary when he's not. His meds cost somewhere in the range of $2000 a month, but try sticking a pill down a big fat retard's throat, especially when he decides he doesn't need them. More often than not, pills went down the sink drain, in his pockets or just were left on the table. Here's a fun little list of some of the shit he did while I had to babysit his dumb ass (my whole two week break from college):
- Drank TONS of soda. Like a whole 12-pack in two days. Due to the heavy tranquilizers he was on, he wouldn't wake up from sleep when his bladder was full, so he would piss wherever he slept. The couch, the recliner, the bed, and for some reason on the bathroom floor rather than in the toilet. Mom quit buying soda to prevent the pissing, but with there being a gas station about 1/4 mile from the house, Spedley would just walk down there every day and buy a couple 2-liters. Mom would leave pissy blankets and clothes on the porch for Duh to take to the laundromat. He was there about every other day.
- Got pissed at my mother over nothing and told her to get out of her own house. Mom had to wait out in the yard until Duh came home to get Spedley under control.
- Decided to destroy several of the flower beds in the yard, tearing flower bulbs out of the dirt and uprooting a trellis. He says he was doing "crop rotation." Mom had an unholy shit fit. Duh helped Spedley conceal what he did by taking the bulbs and throwing them around the yard, which is why there are several spots in the yard where one single daffodil is growing.
- Duh paid Spedley $100 to "clean" the shed, meaning throw shit all over the place and open every single box and bag he could find.
- While fully medicated, Spedley forced me to sit down for a whole hour to listen to Tony Robbins tapes and would tell me stuff like, "It's easy to make a thousand dollars. You're going to write down a thousand things that will earn you a dollar."
- One of the items he brought with him on the plane was a CD with instructions on how to make bombs. He was chosen for a random luggage search and, shockingly, was still allowed to travel.
- Spedley's Moo absolutely refused to put him in an institution, insisting that their home state had no faclilties for retards and that he needs to stay here in one of the local nut houses/group homes. Funny, I looked up psych hospitals and the like and found over 30 locations in their state. Methinks Moomie just didn't want to deal with him anymore and wanted him as far away from her as possible.
- Demanded that I make things for him, like make him a video game or draw his stupid patent idea. His brilliant game idea was a Christianity-based fighting game with Jason Voorhees.
- Got himself thrown out of the thrift store because he told one of the rather endowed female employees that she should wear a back brace.
- Smoked in the house and flicked the ashes all over the floor.
- Drank beer when he wasn't supposed to have alcohol with his meds.
- Did weird shit like sitting in the garage in total darkness playing with my cats. Unfortunately, there was no way to separate him and my cats, but thank gods (and shockingly) he never harmed them. He did like to beat on the dog, though. Mom put a padlock on the dog's cage to keep him away from her and he had a fit, screaming that he could easily break the lock off if he really wanted to get at the dog.
- Saw a mother kitty with her three babies while in the car, and expressed how much he wanted to stick them all in a sack, string the sack up on a clothesline and beat it with a baseball bat.
- His father ALWAYS took his side. Spedley cwas a big fat retarded saint and my mom and I were always wrong no matter what. Of course he would spend a couple hours with the tard each day, at BEST. Usually the moron was out carousing all night with his buddies. Meanwhile, I was alone with Spedley from the time my mother left for work until she got home, which was 10-12 hours. Then Mom took over tard-sitting and I got a break. This big fat dumb fucker was in no way related to either me or my mom, either by blood or law, but we were dealing with him the most. Duh even said that if the police laid a hand on his darling, he'd have to kill those cops.
Another fun thing is my mother informed me I was, under no circumstances, to call 911 if Spedley's behavior got really bad or violent. Nope, don't call the cops because oh NOEZ Duh might leeeeeave if we Baker Act his tard! I was told, if he got violent, to lock myself in my bedroom and call Mom on my cell phone. There are a few issues with this. One, this guy could easily break down my door. Two, my cell phone doesn't get a good signal where I live. Three, WTF is my mother going to do? By the time she pulled her thumb out of her ass, I could be dead. But hey, as long as Spedley's duhddy wasn't upset, right? Surprisingly, the worst Spedley got with me physically was he dropped an apple on my head. I'm glad that was the worst of the damage.
I was never so fucking happy to go back to school, but Spedley was at the house for another two weeks, so you can imagine how much I worried about the cats and dog. Eventually, Spedley was admitted when he really lost it one morning and broke a full pot of hot coffee over his empty head. He was sent back to HomeState after being in the psych ward for a month.
My mother called his Moo and told her he is not welcome back in her house ever again. Spedley's Moo said that wouldn't work for her because Spedley needs to be here for psych treatment. A few years after that first visit, guess who shows up in the front yard? Yeah, Spedley! I was out of town at the time, but when Mom didn't answer the door, Spedley went wandering off in the backyard. Mom called the police to come get him and he was shockingly cooperative. Spedley's uncle refused to put him up because said uncle has lots of firearms in his house, so Uncle paid for not only a cab, but a hotel room for that day, and then Spedley had to call Moo and get her to buy his ass a ticket back home. Well, my mom said he wasn't welcome back, so it's not one's fault but the Moo's if she chooses to not listen. Since then, Spedley has been in and out of psych wards and his Moo FINALLY stuck him in a real long-term nut house.
He still calls here now and then, usually at retarded hours like 4 in the morning. Honestly, I cannot understand a word of what he says. I don't know if it's from being in a chemical stupor or what, but it all just sounds like grunting and mumbling about random shit like a patent, how he's going to France, he's going to be an engineer, he needs money, he wants to come here for his birthday, he wants Cambion to draw him a picture, and other assorted bullshit. That's just what I can make out from his Tardese.
Do share your best tard stories!
I am tempted, as cruel as it seems, to just say that he should be executed because he's so dangerous.
He seems to be very scary and is not someone I want me or mine around.
I know that it's not his fault, though. I'd at least want him locked up, which he is.
I gathered that he'll resort to violence at the drop of a hat and is a bully.
Factor in his size, strength and mental illness, and you've got what I think is a bomb waiting to explode.
I don't want him a part of society at all.
I am not trying to paint all people who are ill mentally with the same brush, nor do I believe that they should be killed.
It's just that he has a combination of factors, coupled with the inability -- or little ability -- to act rationally, and that's a potent mix that will land him in deep shit for seriously hurting or ending the life of another person.
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Re: Tard stories May 24, 2013 |
Wow. Just wow. I really have heard it all. These tard tales are off the chain!
There is a difference between having a mental illness and being a retard. I have depression for example. That's far different than being a 500 pound chronic mastabator who attacks people at bus stops! I think that once you are too far gone, you need to be put down. You are of no use to society or yourself. True 'tards are just a burden on society and in some cases---a severe menace!
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