When I was about 16 years old, my brother, who was about 12 (and a few undiagnosed mental disorders) had just gotten his first pet, a kitten. He loved that kitten so much. I have a pretty twisted mind. My brother was a spoiled brat, and had put me through a lot over the years.

One day I was in the kitchen, and it all came together. The light in the microwave could be turned on without actually turning on the microwave power, and my mom's cassette/radio boom-box was on the counter next to the microwave. I recorded about 3 mins of the microwave on full-power. Then I got the kitten, put it in the microwave, turned on the light, and played the sound of the microwave on the boombox. To make it more dramatic, I was sick enough to cranked the sound louder-than-life.

I called my brother into the kitchen.

He totally lost his mind. He ripped the door off the microwave when he opened it. He grabbed the kitten so hard and fast he injured it (broke its leg). He put the kitten on the floor and chased me into the living room. I'd just gotten home from softball practice, and he grabbed the bat and started swinging. He chased me upstairs, still swinging the bat. My mom came up behind him and he shoved her down the stairs, causing her to sprain her wrist. She called the cops. Meantime, my brother pursued me up a hallway with photos in frames on either side. He was destroying them, causing glass and wood to fly with every swing. He was utterly batshit, foaming-at-the-mouth insane. Finally, he got close enough to me that I was able to grab the bat and punch him in the face. The storm was over.

The cops showed up and I wound up staying at my grandparent's house for about a week. Had to pay for the broken frames, repair of the destroyed hallway, a new microwave, and the kitten's vet bill. Every cent I had at the time, and then some.

I really wish none of that had happened.