For those who have rasied sons...

[Slartibartfast 153]

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 land sticking arrows in anything that could get stuck by an arrow. Did you know that a 1955 40 horse Farmall tractor tire will take 6 rounds before it goes down?

 

Tough sumbich.

 

That got boring, so being the 10 yr. old

"Dukes of Hazard"

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.

 

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 in my head.

I grabbed the can and set it on the stump. I thought that 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).

 

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, a 1 lb. pyrodex and 16 oz (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 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 SHOOT"! 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 shoot.

 

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 fricking decibels of sound. I caught a half a millisecond glimpse of the violence during the initial explosion and I will tell you there was dust, grass, and bugs all 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 worm or two.

 

The daylight turned purple. Let me repeat this...

 

 

"THE FRICKING DAYLIGHT TURNED PURPLE"!!!!!!!

 

There was a big sweetgum tree out by the gate going into the pasture.

Notice I said

"WAS".

That sumbirch 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. 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 185 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. 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. and Dad screaming "Bring him back to life so I can kill him again". Thanks Mom .

 

One thing is for sure... I never had to mow around that stump again, Mom had been bi*ching about that thing for years and dad never did anything about it. I stepped up to the plate and handled business.

 

Dad sold his muzzle loader a week or so later. 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 use later on in life.

 

Author Unknown

 

For some reason this had me laughing my socks off... :rofl:

[Ghost029 1]

ROFLMAO :clapping: :yikes:

[+Dave 2,318]

OMG that was awesome!

 

When I was 12, I decided it was a good I idea to shoot a compressed gas propane tank with my dad's .54 cal muzzle loader from 20 yards away..........in retrospect.....it WAS NOT a good idea....

[xrearl 27]

we would tie sparklers onto an arrow, and shoot them(High School field).Fun light show till the police came!GO Home Boys!!!!

[Lt. James Cater 62]

:rofl: :rofl: :rofl:

 

I swear to God, it must be a law that boys are required to do something along those lines above. Dumbass me was once involved in a cherry bomb throwing duel and i still don't know how i didn't lose a few fingers when one went off while i was still holding it.

Edited May 26, 2011 by Lt. James Cater

[UK_Widowmaker 571]

God forgive me...But I shot Tommy Steele (the singer/performer) right in the chest with a firework Rocket when I was 13

 

Me and my friend walked up his driveway..propped open his mailbox..lit the rocket..rang the bell...and ran!

 

(we read in the papers the following day, that it hit him...and scorched his bare chest...causing superficial burns...and he had to be treated for shock

(a shameful claim to fame I know)

Edited May 26, 2011 by UK_Widowmaker

[macelena 1,070]

In Spain, on St John´s Eve, we use to lit upp fires with old clothed and play with firecrakers a bit.

 

Once i bought the biggest firework available, a "Cherokee No 4". Not one, really, but seven boxes, each with five of those cigar shaped, dynamite like sticks. I had no better idea than getting into an abandoned construction yard and blow a surplus clay brick with a "customized" device, packing 5 altogether.

 

The abandoned car i took cover behind, 15 meters away or so from the brick, got shatered by clay sprinklers, the only tire remaining exploded, the glasses cracked up, a mirror flew awayover the car and my head and there were small fires in about a 30 meters radius, and after the detonation and the echo, all i could hear, deafened, were dogs barking in all the surroundings.

 

Trouble is, i didn´t do this as a child, i was twenty, it was less than a year ago. When my girlfriend saw all the mess she got that stare "I better love you, otherwise i would cut your balls off".

 

The worse part is that if i had not an exam scheduled for the next St-John´s Eve, i would probably do something as dangerous.

[+Typhoid 231]

That's awesome!