One night in 2002, my friends and I unleashed hell upon a St. Louis suburb, they may even talk about us still. Here is the legendary tale of the "Night of Terror".

We went to a small putt putt golf place in town. We decided to play a few rounds, however the place was packed and waiting in line to get our balls in the holes was getting tiresome. So we started hitting the balls at lights, people, cars, and various other things.

Bear broke two lights on the course with the putter and Scott broke an overhead light with a brick, then threw another brick into the bumper boat pool. By this point management had already been watching us, so naturally all hell broke lose.

A few minutes later some manager came over and asked us which one of us through the brick in the pool, I figured he already knew, but we all acted like we didn't know what he was talking about. Finally he asked us to leave, and we left breaking as much shit as possible on our way out and bear stole two golf balls.

In the parking lot Bear and I got into his car and Scott and Aaron got into Scott's car. Aaron had parked facing the wooden fence and Bear and I were across the parking lot. We got in Bears car and started fucking around and did two doughnuts.

We didn't know that Scott and actually ran through the fence and knocked about 3/4 of it down and we found out about this a little bit later. We didn't see because the dumb ass manager jumped out in front of Bear's car like he's going to stop us from leaving, but it doesn't. He yells something, and instead of rolling his window down to find out what he was yelling, Bear nearly runs over the guy.

We fled and met up at some restaurant or something and laughed about the matter for the rest of the night.

Note: If Aaron or Scott reads this, please tell me what else happened that night, I haven't spoken to you guys in forever and Bear's memory is about as good as mine.