Chuck's Blog

OUR LIGHTER SIDE 4/23/2009

In order to be a great writer a person must have a shockproof crap detector.

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What little boys do for fun

Where are we!

Penis tax

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 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 at the bottom. Right through the
main pile of pyrodex and into the can. OH – SHIT.

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 YOUR 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 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 bitching 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
life. Something they won’t learn in school.
________________________

Where are we !

Two tourists were driving through Louisiana. As they were approaching Natchitoches, they started arguing about the pronunciation of the town. They argued back and forth until they stopped for lunch. As they stood at the counter, one tourist asked the employee,

“Before we order, could you please settle an argument for us? Would you please pronounce where we are…very slowly?”

The employee leaned over the counter and said, “Burrrrrrrr, gerrrrrrr, Kiiiiing.”
________________________

Penis Tax

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DISCLAIMER! There may be errors in this newsletter. Any errors or “typos” you find were also found by me less than 10 minutes after I sent it out. As far as spelling is concerned, Mark Twain once said, I feel bad for the man that can’t spell a word more than one way.

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Adult Humor
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Thanks,

Chuck