From an Email I Received.................

Around age 10 my dad got me one of those Little Bad-ass Compound Bow beginner kits.

 

Of course, the first month I went around our place sticking arrows in anything that could

get stuck by an arrow. Did you know that a 1955 40 horse Farmall tractor will take 6 rounds
before it goes down? Tough sumbich.


That got boring, so being the 10 yr. old Dukes of Hazzard fan that I  was,  I quickly advanced
to taking strips of cut up Tshirt doused in chainsaw gas tied around the end and was sending
flaming arrows all over the place.

  

Keep in mind this was 99.999% humidity swampland so there really wasn't any fire danger.
I'll put it this way - a set of post hole diggers and a 3ft. hole and you had yourself a well.

Anyway, one summer afternoon, I was shooting flaming arrows into a large rotten oak stump
in our backyard.  I look over under the carport and see a shiny brand new can of starting fluid (ether).


The light bulb went off.  I grabbed the can and set it on the stump.  I thought it would probably just
spray out in a disappointing manner . . lets face  it... to  a 10 yr. old mouth-breather like myself,
ether really doesn't "sound" flammable.  So, I went back into the house and got a 1 pound can
of pyrodex (black powder for muzzle loader rifles) to add to the excitement.


At this point, I set the can of ether on the stump and opened up the can of black powder.  My
intentions were to sprinkle a little bit around the ether can but it all sorta dumped out on me.

No biggie...1lb pyrodex and 16 oz of ether should make a loud pop, kinda like a firecracker - you 
know?  You know what?  Screw that. I'm going back in the house for the other can.  Yes, I got
a second can of pyrodex and dumped it too.


Now we're cookin'


I stepped back about 15ft and lit the 2 stroke arrow.  I drew the nock to my cheek and took aim. 


As I released I heard a clunk as the arrow launched from my bow. In a slow motion time frame,
I turned to see my dad getting out of the truck....  OH SH**! He just got home from work.


So help me God it took 10 minutes for that arrow to go from my bow to the can. My dad was walking

towards me in slow motion with a WTH look in his eyes.


I turned back towards my target just in time to see the arrow pierce the starting fluid can right at the
bottom.  Right through the main pile of pyrodex and into the can.  OH - SH**.

When the shock wave hit it knocked me off my feet.  I don't know if it was the actual compression
wave that threw me back or just reflex jerk back from 235 decibels of sound.


I caught a half millisecond glimpse of the violence during the initial explosion and I will tell you there 
was dust, grass, and bugs all hovering 1ft above the ground as far as I could see.


It was like a little low to the ground layer of dust fog full of grasshoppers, spiders, and a crawfish
or two. The daylight turned purple. Let me repeat this...


THE DAYLIGHT TURNED PURPLE!


There was a big sweetgum tree out by the gate going into the pasture.  Notice I said "was".  That
mother got up and ran off.


So here I am, on the ground blown completely out of my shoes with my Thundercats T-shirt shredded,
my dad is on the other side of the carport  having what I can only assume is a Vietnam flashback:

"ECHO BRAVO CHARLIE YOU’RE BRINGIN' EM IN TOO CLOSE!! CEASE FIRE DAMIT CEASE FIRE!!!!!


His hat has blown off and is 30 ft. behind him in the driveway.  All the windows on the north side of
the house are blown out and there is a slow rolling mushroom cloud about 2000 feet over our backyard.

There is a Honda 185s three wheeler parked on the other side of the yard and the fenders are drooped

down and are now touching the tires.


I wish I knew what I said to my dad at this moment.  I don't know--I know I said something.  I couldn't
hear. I couldn't hear inside my own head.  I don't think he heard me either...not that it would really matter.


I don't remember much from this point on.  I said something, felt a sharp pain, and then woke up later.  
I felt a sharp pain, blacked out, woke later.... Repeat this process for an hour or so and you get the idea.  
I remember at one point my mom had to give me CPR so dad could beat me some more. Bring him
back to life so dad can kill him again.

 

Thanks, mom.

 

One thing is for sure...I never had to mow around that stump again. Mom had been complaining about

that thing for years and dad never did anything about it.


I stepped up to the plate and handled business.


Dad sold his muzzleloaders a week or so later.  And I still have some sort of bone growth abnormality either

from the blast or the beating.  Or both.

Got this in an email this morning, and after picking myself up off the floor and wiping the coffee out of my nose (from laughing so hard) I just knew it had to be posted here!

For clarification, this didn't happen to me, this was an email joke I got...................

well, really glad you didn't have to experience that, either way it's still funny.

Cat_D says ...

DARN YOU 36TR !!!! HOW DID YOU GET AHOLD OF THIS STORY !!! Sounds like some of the stuff my cousins used to do !!!  Now, my brother and I used to blow up tree stumps with cherry bombs, remember them? My cousin Frankie lost a few fingers with an M80 and  a gas heater. We are still not allowed to discuss some of the fires we set. Needless to say my mom was not happy with us with firecrackers !!!!  This was AWESOME !!!!

Yup, remember Cherry Bombs and M80's. Hmmm, seems to me there was this time in the high school boys room and a theory that if you lit a cherry bomb and then flushed it down the toilet................................

I needed that.. Thank you