What you don't know might hurt your parents.
“It was the 90s”
My parents told me about the time they got slightly drunk and decided to rollerblade to Taco Bell (it was the ’90s) while pushing baby me in a stroller. They fucking crashed the stroller. I was ok, but goddammit mom and dad. You don’t just do that.
Years ago we had an awesome cat name Chosen One. We all loved this cat but especially my oldest son who, at the time, was just beginning to drive (he was about 17 or so.) One day my son was leaving the house to go somewhere and when he left he reached down and gave Chosen a little love and out the door he went. Unbeknownst to him the cat had followed him out the door and for some reason the cat must have ran under the car (nobody actually witnessed this event so we’re speculating on what exactly happened.) So my son drives off and a little while later I go outside only find Chosen laying on the driveway curled up in a ball dead. We think the kitty ran under the car or was in front of the tire or something and when my son drove away he ran over Chosen and killed him. We were all pretty upset of course and when my son came home we told him Chosen had been hit by a car in the road and died. We’ve never told him, and never will, that we’re pretty sure he was the one that killed the cat…he’d blame himself and forever feel guilty about killing his favorite cat.
I have a favorite.