A campfire tale...

Midnight Raver

Well-Known Member
Sep 29, 2009
Dodge City, Moscowchusetts
A good buddy of mine related this to me and others some time ago, I thought you all would be somewhat amused by this:

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 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. Ill 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 16oz 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 2stroke 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 a 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
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 2000ft over our backyard..
There is a Honda 185s 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 thatit 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.


Well-Known Member
Oct 1, 2009
North Chuck, SC
Oh now that was good.
I lost my breath laughing at that.
I am so there right beside you goading you to get the second pound of powder.

This is a TRUE story.
Azrial may remember the boiler being in the yard.

We had a low pressure boiler in the back lot.
It was left over from a dry cleaner my dad owned years before.
It had an inspection door that could be lifted.
This was a huge piece of thick steel gear that was lined with bricks.
Dad was trying to sell this thing although I didn't know it at the time.
For some reason one day I threw some gas in there and tossed in a lit match.
There was a satisfying whump.
Over the next few days I kept doing it and getting braver and braver.
I worked up to a considerable amount of gas.
This was all happening in a South Carolina 100 degree plus summer, the boiler was sitting in the sun all day long.
The heat in the boiler was doing a good job of vaporizing the gasoline I was throwing all over the inside, oh yes I had discovered that if you reached inside and scattered the gas really well it would give a better bang.
I was actually getting fuel air explosions contained by the bricks and thick steel walls.
Well one day I was running low on lawn mower gas so I decided to mix some starting fluid with it.
I already knew ether could be sprayed into a spray can top and would collect as a liquid from my experiments anesthetizing frogs.
I mixed a really full spray paint can top of ether with my gasoline and scattered it into the boiler.
I waited the few seconds I normally did and lifted the inspection door and lit my match.
Before the match cleared the door it went WHAMMMMM! the whole thing shook and a jet of fvcking fire flew out.
It looked like a dragon had been pinned inside, red and blue hotter than the surface of the sun.
I swear I thought the thing was going to take off like a rocket!!!!
I wondered for a moment if it was going to hit the house, now that would hard to explain...
The indirect heat from jet of fire handily removed all the hair from my arms and left me with what appeared to be a sunburn (I was fortunately standing to the side)
I heard things falling inside for several seconds after the blast.
I then did what any kid would do, I hauled ass fully prepared to disavow all knowledge of the incident.
Well that experiment was over and since I didn't die I just left things alone.
Several weeks later Dad was complaining at the dinner table that he had a sale for the boiler but when the buyer inspected it all the fire bricks were busted up.
It seems they were broken and there was pile of powder in the bottom where they had crumbled.
I never did tell what had happened, or I would have been getting CPR from mom so he could beat me some more.

What did I learn from this experience?
Ether burns better than gas and is really kool stuff.
One of these days I will tell about my flamethrower experiments.


Well-Known Member
Sep 26, 2009

both of ya'll's stories are hilarious!

I have a few myself, but I'd have to stretch the truth a bit to even come close.


Well-Known Member
Dec 20, 2009
clover SC
Yes both were great stories laughted my a$$ off, reminds me of trying to make a better fuel for my gocart when I was 11 years of age , I loss my hearing for about 2 hrs scared the heck out of me never again did I try to mix gas with other chemicals again, but being a rocket scientist at 11 years old it was worth a try, I know there are alot of great growing up stories out there , lets hear some more LOL


Well-Known Member
Nov 12, 2009
Rock Hill, SC
This has been floating around for a few years, its kind of an Urban legend, however the guy that first sent it to me swears its true because he was the first cousin of the idiot that did this....true or not its still a funny read.

Names have been removed to protect the stupid!

I had this idea that I was going to rope a deer, put it in a stall, sweet feed it on corn for a few weeks, then butcher it and eat it. Yum! Corn-fed venison. The first step in this adventure was getting a deer.

Since they congregate at my cattle feeder and do not have much fear of me (a bold one will sometimes come right up and sniff at the bags of feed while I am in the back of the truck four feet away) it should not be difficult to rope one, toss a bag over its head to calm it down, then hog-tie it and transport it home.

I filled the cattle feeder and hid behind it with my rope. The cattle, having seen a roping or two before, stayed well back. They were not having any of it.

After 20 minutes, my deer showed up, 3 of them. I picked a likely looking one, stepped out, and threw my rope. The deer just stood there and stared at me. I wrapped the rope around my waist and twisted the end so I would have a good hold. The deer still just stood and stared at me, but you could tell she was mildly concerned about the whole rope situation.

I took a step toward it. It took a step away. I put a little tension on the rope, and received an education. The first thing I learned is that, while a deer may just stand there looking at you funny while you rope it, it is spurred to action when you start pulling on that rope.

That deer EXPLODED.

The second thing I learned is that, pound for pound, a deer is a LOT stronger than a cow or a colt. A cow or a colt in that weight range, I could fight down with some dignity. A deer? No chance.

That thing ran and bucked, it twisted and pulled. There was no controlling that deer, and certainly no getting close to it. As it jerked me off my feet and started dragging me across the ground, it occurred to me that having a deer firmly attached to a rope was not such a good idea. The only upside is that they do not have much stamina.

A brief ten minutes later it was tired, and not as quick to jerk me off my feet and drag me. It took me a few minutes to realize this, since I was mostly blinded by the blood flowing out of the big gash in my head.

At that point, I had lost my appetite for corn-fed venison. I hated the thing, and would hazard a guess that the feeling was mutual. I just wanted to get that devil creature off the end of that rope. But if I let it go with the rope hanging around its neck, it would likely die slow and painful somewhere.

Despite the gash in my head, and several large knots where I had cleverly arrested the deer's pell-mell flight by bracing my head against large rocks as it dragged me across the ground, I could still think clearly enough to recognize that I shared some tiny amount of responsibility for the situation we were in. I didn't want the deer to suffer a slow death.

I managed to get it lined up between my truck and the feeder, a little trap I had set beforehand, like a squeeze chute. I backed it in there, and I started moving forward to get my rope back.

Did you know that deer bite? They do!

I never in a million years would have thought that a deer would bite, so I was very surprised when I reached up there to grab hold of that rope, and the deer grabbed hold of my wrist. Now, when a deer bites you, it is not like a horse, it does not just bite and let go. A deer bites and shakes its head, like a pit bull. They bite HARD and won't let go. It hurts!

The proper reaction when a deer bites you is probably to freeze and draw back slowly. I tried screaming and wrenching away. My method was ineffective. It felt like that deer bit and shook me for several minutes, but it was likely only several seconds.
I, being smarter than a deer (though you may be questioning that claim by now) tricked it. While I kept it busy tearing the bejesus out of my right arm, I reached up with my left hand and pulled that rope loose. That was when I learned my final lesson in deer behavior for the day.

Deer will strike at you with their front feet. They rear right up and strike at head and shoulder level, and their hooves are surprisingly sharp. I learned long ago that when a horse strikes at you with its hooves and you can't get away, the best thing to do is make a loud noise and move aggressively towards the animal. This will cause it to back down a bit, so you can make your escape.

This was not a horse. This was a deer. Obviously, such trickery would not work. In the course of a millisecond, I devised a different strategy. I screamed like a woman and turned to run.

The reason we have been taught NOT to turn and run from a horse that paws at you is that there is a good chance that it will hit you in the back of the head. Deer are not so different from horses after all, other than being twice as strong and three times as evil. The second I turned to run, it hit me right in the back of the head and knocked me down.

When a deer paws at you and knocks you down, it does not immediately depart. I suspect it does not recognize that the danger has passed. What it does instead is paw your back and jump up and down on you, while you are laying there crying like a little girl and covering your head.

I finally managed to crawl under the truck, and the deer went away. Now I know why people go deer hunting with a rifle and a scope. It's so they can be somewhat equal to the prey.


Well-Known Member
Oct 1, 2009
North Chuck, SC
Good story!
He should have pulled his legally carried concealed weapon and put that poor deer out of it's misery.


Well-Known Member
Nov 12, 2009
Rock Hill, SC
Heck he was lucky he roped a Doe, if he gotten a Buck it probably would have ripped his drawers off and raped him. Its almost as funny as the Gasoline powered lawnmower and the electric fence.


Well-Known Member
Nov 12, 2009
Rock Hill, SC
Oh OK, don't want you guys to be deprived.

We have the standard 6ft. fence in the backyard, and a few months ago, I >heard about burglaries increasing dramatically in the entire city.

To make sure this never happened to me, I got an electric fence and ran a single wire along the top of the fence. Actually, I got the biggest cattle charger Tractor Supply had, made for 26 miles of fence. I then used an 8 ft. long ground round, drove 7.5 feet into the ground. The ground rod is the key, with the more you have in the ground, the better the fence works.

One day I'm mowing the back yard with my cheapo Walmart 6hp big wheel push mower. The hot wire is broken and laying out in the yard. I knew for a fact that I unplugged the charger. I pushed the mower around the wire and reached down to grab it, to throw it out of the way. It seems as though I hadn't remembered to unplug it after all.

Now I'm standing there, I've got the running lawnmower in my right hand and the 1.7 gigavolt fence wire in the other hand. Keep in mind the charger is about the size of a marine battery and has a picture of an upside down cow on fire on the cover.

Time stood still. The first thing I notice is my balls trying to climb up the front side of my body.
My ears curled downwards and I could feel the lawnmower ignition firing in the backside of my brain.

Everytime that Briggs & Stratton rolled over, I could feel the spark in my head. I was literally at one with the engine. It seems as though the fence charger and the POS lawnmower were fighting over who would control my electrical impulses.

Science says you cannot crap, pee, and get your nuts off at the same time. I beg to differ.

Not only did I do all three at once, but my bowels emptied 3 different times in less than half of a second.
It was a Matrix kind of bowel movement, where time is creeping along and you're all leaned back and BAM BAM BAM you just crap your pants 3 times. It seemed like there were minutes in between but in reality it was so close together it was like exhaust pulses from a big block Chevy turning 8 grand.

At this point I'm about 30 minutes (maybe 2 seconds) into holding onto the fence wire. My hand is wrapped around the wire palm down so I cant let go. I grew up on a farm so I know all about electric fences. But Dad always had those POS chargers made by International or whoever that were like 9 volts and just kinda tickled. This I could not let go of. The 8 foot long ground rod is now accepting signals from me through the permadamp Ark-La-Tex River bottom soil. At this point I'm thinking I'm going to have to just man up and take it, until the lawnmower runs out of gas.

'Damn!,' I think, as I remember I just filled the tank! Now the lawnmower is starting to run rough.
It has settled into a loping run pattern as if it had some kind of big lawnmower race cam in it.
Covered in poop, pee, jizz, and with my balls on my chest I think 'Oh God please die... Pleeeeze die'. But nooooo, it settles into the rough lumpy cam idle nicely and remains there, like a big bore roller cam EFI motor waiting for the go command from its owner's right foot.

So here I am in the middle of July, 104 degrees, 80% humidity, standing in my own backyard, begging God to kill me. God did not take me that day. He left me there covered in my own fluids to writhe in the misery my own stupidity had created.

I honestly don't know how I got loose from the wire... I woke up laying on the ground hours later.
The lawnmower was beside me, out of gas. It was later on in the day and I was sunburned. There were two large dead grass spots where I had been standing, and then another long skinny dead spot were the wire had laid while I was on the ground still holding on to it. I assume I finally had a seizure and in the resulting thrashing had somehow let go of the wire.

Upon waking from my electrically induced sleep I realized a few things :

1 - Three of my teeth seem to have melted.
2 - I now have cramps in the bottoms of my feet and my right butt cheek (not the left, just the right).
3 - Poop, pee, and semen when all mixed together, do not smell as bad a you might think.
4 - My left eye will not open.
5 - My right eye will not close.
6 - The lawnmower runs like a sumnabitch now. Seriously! I think our little session cleared out
some carbon fouling or something, because it was better than new after that.
7 - My balls are still smaller than average yet they are almost a foot long.
8 - I can turn on the TV in the game room by farting while thinking of the number 4 (still don't understand this?).

That day changed my life. I now have a new found respect for things. I appreciate the little things more, and now I always triple check to make sure the fence is unplugged before I mow.

The good news, is that if a burglar does try to come over the fence, I can clearly visualize what my security system will do to him, and THAT gives me a warm and fuzzy feeling all over, which also reminds me to triple check before I mow.