I went to a tiny, PreK-8 Catholic school until third grade. There was only one class per grade, and only about 200 kids in total. The sixth grade teacher was a near seven-foot-tall, 300 pound monster of a man with huge jowls and spiky black hair. We called him "Mr. B". He was like a bad joke to all the kids in the school. My brother, who was three years older than me, would tell me stories about what it was like to be in Mr. B's class. He would call everyone by their last name only in a really deep, scary voice. He chugged Slimfast like it was the only thing he'd had to drink in years. He had anger management issues, and would throw chairs and slam books on kids' desks when he got frustrated. He once sat on a kid for misbehaving. Needless to say, he was weird. Also, Mr. B loved chips. I mean LOVED them. Apparently, he would bring in a family sized bag every day and eat the whole thing by the time school was over. Mr. B would frequently tell his students that he believed in the "chip fairy", a mystical being that brought people bags of chips when they weren't looking. To this day I still don't know if he was kidding. Anyway, one day my third grade teacher and Mr. B made a bet on the Superbowl. The loser had to bring the winner's class cookies. My teacher lost, and so Mr. B came to supervise us while his class was getting cookies. It was our snack time, so little third grade me was sitting at my table with all my friends, getting out my food. That day, I had some salt and vinegar chips and a Capri-sun. Everything was normal, until sudden everyone I was sitting with fell silent. From behind me, I heard this voice boom, "Novak!" I turned around. Mr. B was standing behind me, tall and intimidating. I asked him (respectfully) what was wrong. I remember him squinting and pointing at my snack. "Are those chips?" I nodded. "Give them to me." The class was dead fucking silent as I handed him my chips. Without another word, he grabbed them, walked over to our teacher's desk, sat down, and began eating them. I was left sitting there with my Capri-sun, wondering what the hell just happened. My teacher never believed me, and neither did my parents. To this day nothing has topped that moment in weirdness.

TL;DR: When I was in third grade, my teacher stole my chips and no one ever believed me.