Bow and arrow+10 year oldl
That bow and arrow story
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. 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 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
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 SH*T! 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 Sh*t.
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 son-of-a-b*tch 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. DAMMIT 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 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 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.