Enthusiasm is Contagious

If you’ve ever been to court, I’m sure you’ve always wondered how you can escape going through the trial without admitting your guilt. Last month during an assault trial in Philadelphia, the most unexpected thing occurred during the trial.  A man who was in the witness stand spoke of a fight he was in that cost him his left eye. Moments later as he became emotional, the trial ended abruptly in a mistrial when his $3000 prosthetic eye popped out as he was testifying. To say the jurors were startled would be an understatement.

The victim John Huttick, was weeping on the witness stand in court when his blue eye popped out unexpectedly. Huttick caught it and cried out as two jurors gasped and started to rise. Huttick later stated, he “couldn’t believe it just came out.”

Now I’ve watched numerous Perry Mason movies, I can say unequivocally that this scenario has never played out in any of the ones I’ve watched. I do believe that rather than the mundane, Americans have become just too used to the outrageous. What surprises us anymore?

If you have never visited the web site People of Walmart, you’d soon realize that those of us who look “normal” are quickly becoming “abnormal” in this world. Whether it’s wearing your hair in multicolored tufts like a parrot, pants down to the ankles as you shop, or a face that looks like it took the full force of an exploding tackle box, why can’t things be normal anymore?

Oh there is elements of irony when a global warming conference is cancelled three years in a row because the organizers planned the conference  during three separate brutal winter storms. But rarely do I get satisfaction when people choose to do weird things and don’t get called on it.

I guess we could take some solace that the man testifying in the earlier trial wasn’t missing his upper left appendage. Then we’d have to see a newspaper headline the next morning that read, “Mistrial called when witness becomes disarming.”

I’m going to share the funniest story you’ll ever read. The author of the story is unknown.

Life as a child growing up on a farm in Oklahoma ….

Around age 10 my dad got me one of those little cool 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 piece of equipment..

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).

A 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 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. black powder and 16 oz (Ether) should make a loud pop, kinda like a firecracker you know?

You know what? Forget that, I’m going back in the house for the other can, so I got a second can of black powder and dumped it too. Now we’re cookin’, I thought.

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 SHOOT! He just got home from work.

You won’t believe it, but 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 “what in the world 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 black powder and into the can. Oh shoot. 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 freaking 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 COTTON PICKING DAYLIGHT TURNED PURPLE.

There was a big sweet gum tree out by the gate going into the pasture. Notice I said “was”. That sucker 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. DANG 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 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 complaining 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.

Author Unknown