What boys do for fun (UNCLASSIFIED)


Well-Known Member
Apr 1, 2007
Around age 10 my dad got me one of those Little Bad-*** 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, it was.

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.

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 3 ft. 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...1 lb 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 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 ****! 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 *** 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 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...


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 the 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
185 s 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 muzzle loaders 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.
Because of recent happenings involving some tannerite and old oak stump and a .223, that really got my goat, thanks for posting.
Great story! I love it!!. Now days you'd get sent to the nut ward for evaluation, jail, kicked out of every school in your zip code and your folks would go to jail for letting you play with such dangerous stuff.

I sure miss the good old days.
Unbelievable. Finally was able to wipe the tears from my eyes enough to be able to see to type.
GREAT story - reminds me of the time when I drained our neighbors entire pond onto the other neighbors property.
WOW, a long bow and chickens come to mind about 26 yrs ago. Waylon Jennings 'GOOD OL BOYS' song on the black and white tv turnned all the way up so i could here it out by the coupe. and isnt it strange how dads always come home unexpected just in time to see you at your finest! THANKS FOR THE TRIP DOWN MEMORY LANE. it was good for the soul and for my 4 yr old who is alot like his daddy. im in for a treat! winmag.
That story had me rolling.....when I was young my dad had a shell for his ford truck that had a few holes in it about the size of my arrows. An old bear bow and some old bent arrows used to provide a whole day of fun a long time ago. thanks for the laugh.
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