GITT with a possibly bullchit story your Grandpa told you

Dec 3, 2020, 8:31 AM

Not my granddad, but my wife's:

He was in WWII but got there the day Hitler shot himself. They put him in Austria as a guard in a POW camp. His job was to take the local German soldiers who have turned themselves in after Hitler's death and go into the town and watch them as they rebuilt the buildings etc that were bombed (apparently these prisoners all lived in this town. They went back home then turned themselves in or something).

One day they are at a church that was hit by a bomb and was digging down into the ground to fix some pipes or something. Across the road was the graveyard of the church and a funeral was going on.

One of the prisoners was obviously upset. Grandad asked him what was wrong and he said that that was his mother they were burying. Grandad went in the church, got the priest and made the priest hand over his clothes and bible to the prisoner.

He told the prisoner that he had trained as a sniper and if he tried anything funny he could shoot him down from 300 yards out without a problem. Shoot the man at his own mother's funeral.

So the prisoner was able to attend his mother's funeral dressed as a priest. After the funeral was over he handed the priest back his clothes and they kept digging.

Later that week the prisoner tried to give him a diamond necklace that was a family heirloom that he smuggled into the camp to grandad. Grandad refused it because he was worried he would get in trouble.

According to grandad, that necklace would probably be worth a few hundred thousand today.

He died a couple of months ago. Miss that man.

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I like your funny words magic man

My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery.

My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet.

My father would womanize, he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament.

My childhood was typical. Summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds- pretty standard really.

At the age of twelve I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum... it's breathtaking- I highly suggest you try it.

GITT with a possibly bullchit story your Grandpa told you

Funny, I had a grandfather who was a Wermacht POW

My Grandad was a steel worker

How much cobble was he ducking on the way down?***

You mean how much cobble could a steel worker duck

I never knew my grandfathers

So, basically, you care FBCoach's brother in law?***

I'd be kidding myself if I said I

Would you have guess that the German grandfather

Cleveland, huh?

The other side is a fun story, also

And then you married into the Aaron Spelling family,

Heading there this weekend!***

So your lineage is full of Nazis and Klan members? However,

that Grandmaw died of covid***

Now my actual grandpa's story of growing up

Aero wrote this***

He was a boy and waiting home one night with his mom for

By chance are you

I don't even know what you are

That the signs that say,

Gramps went to his grave thinking the moonlanding was

Your gramps is correct.***

I never met my grandpas

My great grandfather bought the old fat lighter stairs

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