what little boys do for fun


:laugh: Childhood memories from the good ol' days.................

Around age 10 my dad got me one of those Little Badass 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 T-shirt 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 . . let's 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

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 sort 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 ****! 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 WTF 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 - ****.

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...
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
His hat has blown off and is 30 ft. behind him in the driveway. All
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 *****ing 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.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, get your kids into archery.. Its
good discipline and will teach them skills they can use later on in
:rofl: :rofl: gonna get me fired for surfing during work hours... :laugh: that was classic..
Oh....I'm so forwarding this to my Dad! Somehow I think he'll be able to relate having raised a lil hellion himself :whistle: :laugh:
" I remember at one point my mom had to give me CPR so
dad could beat me some more." My favorite line from this great story, thanks:rofl: