austinj06
05-28-2009, 02:28 PM
Today I got an email from a friend. Its a funny story told by a 10 year old kid who got his first compound bow, and discovered fire....
Its a little long, but a good read.
When I was 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 land 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.
One summer afternoon, I was shooting flaming arrows into a large rotten
oak stump in our backyard. I looked
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 that 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).
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.
No biggie, 1 lb of pyrodex and 16oz 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 15 ft and lit the 2-stroke
arrow. I drew the nock to my cheek and
took aim. As I released I heard a 'clunk' from behind me as the arrow
launched from my bow...
In slow motion, I turned to see my dad getting out of the truck... OH
SHIT... 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
through the main pile of pyrodex at the bottom.
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 a millisecond glimpse of the violence
during the initial explosion and I will tell you there was stuff
hovering 1 ft 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 Thunder-cats T-shirt shredded,
my dad is
on the other side of the carport having what I can only assume is a Viet Nam
flashback, 'ECHO BRAVO CHARLIE, YOUR BRINGIN' 'EM IN TOO CLOSE!! CEASE
FIRE, DAMN IT! CEASE FIRE!!!!!'
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 ft over our backyard.
There is a Honda 185s 3-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. But I just don't
know - I know I said something. I
couldn't hear. Heck...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 bellyaching about
that thing for years and dad never did anything about it. I stepped up
to the plate and handled business.
Dad sold his muzzloaders 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. It's
good discipline and will teach them skills they
can really use - like to get the butt kicking of a lifetime.
Its a little long, but a good read.
When I was 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 land 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.
One summer afternoon, I was shooting flaming arrows into a large rotten
oak stump in our backyard. I looked
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 that 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).
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.
No biggie, 1 lb of pyrodex and 16oz 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 15 ft and lit the 2-stroke
arrow. I drew the nock to my cheek and
took aim. As I released I heard a 'clunk' from behind me as the arrow
launched from my bow...
In slow motion, I turned to see my dad getting out of the truck... OH
SHIT... 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
through the main pile of pyrodex at the bottom.
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 a millisecond glimpse of the violence
during the initial explosion and I will tell you there was stuff
hovering 1 ft 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 Thunder-cats T-shirt shredded,
my dad is
on the other side of the carport having what I can only assume is a Viet Nam
flashback, 'ECHO BRAVO CHARLIE, YOUR BRINGIN' 'EM IN TOO CLOSE!! CEASE
FIRE, DAMN IT! CEASE FIRE!!!!!'
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 ft over our backyard.
There is a Honda 185s 3-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. But I just don't
know - I know I said something. I
couldn't hear. Heck...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 bellyaching about
that thing for years and dad never did anything about it. I stepped up
to the plate and handled business.
Dad sold his muzzloaders 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. It's
good discipline and will teach them skills they
can really use - like to get the butt kicking of a lifetime.