For all young bow hunters
Life as a child


Around age 10 my dad got me one of those wicked little 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 sumb****.


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. Ill put it this way- a set of post
hole diggers and a 3 ft.. 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 on me. No biggie... 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 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 *** 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 crawfish 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-(edit) 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. GODD***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 185cc 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 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 b*tching 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. 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 use later on in
life.


Author Unknown