Your best story

When I was thirteen, the other ten guys in my year in my boarding house used to do some pretty fun (and unabashedly childish) shit after our ten PM lights-out. We'd all get shuffled around between dorms at the end of each term - there were two dorms, one for five people, one for six. One of these dorms had a layout with elephant beds (think a bunk bed with a desk in place of the bottom bunk) all around the room's edges. There was a game we'd play in which participants had to walk along the beds and make a full circuit of the room. There were a few notoriously difficult stages here, including a leap of about a yard and a half between two beds, and nothing to walk on but a very thin mantlepiece atop a disused fireplace between another two. This led to a few fun occasions: The five of us being caught tiptoeing atop one another's beds by a hardass teacher and being forced to polish shoes in the morning, one guy falling at the aforementioned leap and impaling his foot on an errant electrical plug, everybody ducking down onto the bed we were currently walking on as soon as the room's door opened.

By far the best, though, were the pillowfights. Holy shit they were amazing. There's no end of great stories from these. These things always occurred more at the end of term than any other time. They'd always wind up with them being interrupted by a fun-hating teacher and detention. There was only been one occasion on which we were caught with no repercussions, though.

What starts as a little pillow scuffle among the first-years escalates when the whole of the second-year invaded. And then the third-year. So, thirty guys, all in one dorm built for six people to dwell in somewhat cramped semi-comfort, beating the shit out of each other with pillows. It's around now that someone starts blaring the LOTR soundtrack through their speakers. And the lower and upper sixth form join the fray. That's 55 people, give or take. There are feathers everywhere. The housemaster storms into the room and gets as far as "WHAT IS GOI-" before somebody smacks him over the head. By this stage there is a full-scale revolt going on. Nobody is acting responsibly. Someone leaps onto a desk and screams "FOR FRODO!". The fight starts spilling out of this room and down the stairs. I mean, hell, why not? We're not trying to not be caught. All I remember feeling is this total feeling of freedom and elation for about an hour, which I seriously fucking needed in that kind of oppressive atmosphere.

The next day, the entire house got hauled in front of the headmaster and put on lockdown for four days. We had to constantly sign in to prove we were in the house, weren't allowed to leave and go see friends, couldn't go to town, nada. Nobody from outside was allowed in, either. Then came the total bullshit move. The last day of the autumn term ends with the carol service, and everybody going home at about 10 PM, or, should they so choose, sometime the next day. Well, the housemaster decided it'd be a fitting thing to make us all remain until 3 in the afternoon the following days, and have us clean the house and perform other mundane tasks until we were dismissed.

Everybody decided this was ridiculous. After the carol service, we organised another house-wide pillowfight, and all wound up going home that night. Nothing was said about it when we returned in the new year.

Jam it back in, in the dark.