The basement of old house on fifth street where we grew up also had a few other features that lent themselves to neferious activity.
Understand first that this is an old and mostly unfinished basement with a truly eclectic assortment of sizes and shapes of stair steps on the way down. The floor was bare concrete, as were the stairs. At the foot of the stairs a metal water pipe crossed the ceiling in such a way that you could leap out from the second or third stair, reach out and catch hold of this pipe, and swing into the basement instead of merely walking into it- if you were in that sort of mood.
Renae and I had bedrooms in the finished section of the basement, but you had to go through the unfinished section to get to them.
I was roughly 10 or so and was spending my time in my room, laying out plans for world domination, or reading about dinosaurs, or playing with my homemade action figures, or one of my other normal pasttimes. Renae had a friend over, and they kept going up and down stairs, making lots of noise, I think deliberately to annoy me. Renae showed her friend- Kat was her name, I think- about the swinging pipe, and so everytime they came running downstairs making annoying girl racket- (and it wasn't just that it was girl racket that bugged me either I don't think- seems like Renae was showing off for her friend and that bugged me too- actaully looking back I can't remeber what it was that got to me so much- maybe it was just that they were ignoring me and I came up with this evil plan as an attention seeking gimic...WHATEVER! )
The point is, it occurred to me that a good thing to put on that pipe while they were inbetween comings and goings, would be Crisco. So I waited until they were out of the house, went up to the kitchen and got some. Applied it generously to the pipe. Went back to my lair and waited for the ineveitable. Evilly.
Kat was the one that got it. Running down the stairs, soaring out into the air, gripping at the pipe, but failing to keep a grip... falling hard and flat on her back, and banging her skull on the unforgiving, unfinished, concrete basement floor...
If I had come up behind her and hit her that hard with a rock I'd have been in big trouble, naturally. But I do not remember ever getting into trouble for it. I am not sure if I ever felt any remorse about it for that matter. And now I have a funny story to tell as an adult. hmmm... is there a moral in this? I do not know, but there it is.
Ps: I do feel somewhat bad- Sorry Kat, where ever you are!