Here's another Tidbit I remember. When I was about 9, I had what is called a Mate's Bed. It consisted of a high bed with a drawer unit under it (on the side). At either end of the drawers were bookcases. The back panel in the bookcase at the foot of the bed came off, and I discovered that there was a space about 3 feet wide, that went the length of the bed. Of course, being a 9 year old boy, I made it into a little club-house, with blankets, a pillow, and a small lamp. When I had friends over, we would often play under the bed, squeezing 2, and sometimes 3 of us in the cramped space. One of my friends; let's call him Darryl, was a little plump. When he tried to squeeze in there with another boy (We'll call him Peter), he got stuck with his legs from the shins down sticking out. Darryl panicked a little, but soon it turned to light-hearted chuckles from everyone, as we realized the humor of the situation. We tried for about 10 minutes, without any luck, to get him out. Finally, my third friend (I've mentioned "Rod" before) suggested we pull the bed out from the wall enough so Peter could climb out.
We started pulling at the bed, but it was very heavy for a couple of young kids. Rod and I sat down by Darryl's feet and rested. While catching our breath, Rod casually ran a action figure's outstretched arm down Darryl's socked sole (The figure was on the floor near him before hand). Darryl jumped and began giggling from the single stroke. His thrashing brought a yell of protest from Peter. Rod got a wicked look in his eye, and then grabbed the pillow from my bed. He tucked the pillow under Darryl's shins, and sat on the back of his legs. Now only his toes were touching the carpet. Darryl cried out, asking what we were doing. Soon, Rod had the socks removed from Darryl's feet.
Being a sadistic little kid, I happily joined in with Rod; tickling poor Darryl's feet with fingers, toys, pussywillows. After about 5 or 10 minutes of tickling, Darryl's thrashing about managed to shift the bed out enough so that Peter could wriggle out by the wall. He had a bit of a bloody nose; in his thrashing, Darryl had accidentally hit him in the nose with his forehead. Peter said he was okay, and I prepared to help him pull the bed out further so that Darryl could get out. Peter said to wait a minute; he wanted to get revenge. As Darryl screamed he was sorry, Peter went over to where Rod still sat on the boy's legs, and pulled a nylon shoe-string out of his pocket. I sat on the bed and watched. This method had been discovered by Rod at an earlier date, and it had been used extensively on both Rod and myself.
Peter threaded the shoe-lace through Darryl's toes and started gently sawing it back and forth. It only lasted about 2 minutes, because it was hard to keep the lace in with Darryl's toes pointing down and wriggling like crazy, but Darryl went absolutely ballistic during it. We stopped and took the pillow off of his legs. Darryl was still giggling, and his legs shook a little. Finally he crawled out. He had wet himself. I had to lend him a pair of track pants while we washed his soiled clothes, and the damp bedding. I apologied for my part in his torture, but Darryl always was a good sport. He said it was okay; he would get tickle torture revenge on all of us later.
Fortunately, my brother(13-14) was the only other one at home, and he was listening to music through his headphones the whole time, and never heard us.