Memories of a Hillbilly Fourth

The following story is true. The names have not been changed to protect anyone because I think it's funny to humiliate them.

Several years ago my brothers, Jeff and Phillip, and a group of other friends and family members (all of the male gender) decided to make a homemade "firecracker" (between you and me it was a black powder pipe bomb).

I believe it was Jeff that made the actual "firecracker".

In an attempt at being "safe" someone decided to use a line of black powder to light the wick so they wouldn't have to stand close to the "firecracker".

Jim (who was very new to hillbilly shenanigans at that time) suggested they test the black powder line first.

They laid down a separate line and our friend Brian was naive enough to light it.

What happened next is 4th of July legend in the Ozarks.

In less than an instant there was a massive flash of light. From a distance, those of us at the house heard a loud and clear "FUUUUUUUUUUUUUDGE!" Only (in the word's of Ralphie) he said THE word, the big one, the queen-mother of dirty words, the "F-dash-dash-dash" word.

It echoed throughout the hills and hollers of the Ozark Mountains. "Fu, Fu, Fu, Fu....."

Not certain if he was on fire or not, Brian did a precision stop-drop-and-role.

Although he was not technically on fire, Brian did suffer from burned hair and eyebrows. Luckily, Lasik eye surgery was not affordable back then, so Brian was still sporting glasses which probably saved him from a life of blindness.

The boys went on to set off the "firecracker" using a slow burning cigarette as the wick. It went off some 20 minutes after they lit it, waaaaaaaaaaay out in the field.

And to make up for his near death experience Brian got a free haircut and eyebrow trim from my mom out of the deal. We felt it was a fair trade. Brian doesn't really hang out with my family anymore. Hmmm.



PS. The picture has absolutely nothing to do with this story, but it's my only July 4th picture, I like it, and it's my blog, so deal with it.

The True Story of Bigfoot

Before this story begins, you really must know something about Jim. He has this uncanny ability to get anybody to do anything. My cousin Steve calls him "The Devil" because he is a (Jim's word) creative, (Angie's word) shameless instigator.

A couple years ago, Jim was visiting back home and staying at my Mom's house. He had been toying with the idea of a Bigfoot ruse for some time. The idea being to dress up in a Bigfoot costume then strategically walk near the road as a car was driving by to see if word got out that there was a Bigfoot in the area.

This is a typical Jim-ish prank, but a bad idea for two reasons. One, there are a lot of people with guns in that area. Two, there are a lot of people with guns in that area that drink.

So being the supreme instigator he is, he talked someone else into doing it under his tutelage.

I wasn't around during this event, but this is how the story was ultimately relayed to me, and keep in mind this was mid-June in Missouri, so it was steamy hot.

Jim: "OK, walk across the field and I'll tell you what to do."



Jim: "Now swing your arms a little more." (Jim grew up in the Pacific Northwest and knows a great deal about Bigfoot culture)



Jim: "This time look over at me as you're walking by, like in the famous Patterson footage of 1967." (I'm telling you, the boy knows his Bigfoot trivia)



Jim: "That was too much. Don't stop, just look at me as you walk by, and don't forget the arms."



Jim: "Perfect! Now let's go try it on the road."



Anonymous Bigfoot Culprit: "Can we take a break? I think I'm about to pass out."

They actually took their ploy to the road. One car even slowed down.

I believe it was around this time that Alan Anonymous Bigfoot Culprit came to his senses about the potential for dying of a heat stroke in a gorilla costume in mid-June, or being shot, stuffed and mounted on some Hillbilly's wall.

The Easter Incident

On a recent grocery shopping trip I was drawn into the Easter aisle by the lure of chocolate, chocolate, and more chocolate. I decided then and there to put together a little Easter Basket for Jim. He doesn't often eat candy, but there are a few choice items that he has weaknesses for.

While I was perusing the candy and hand selecting Jim's favorites, I noticed some cheap toys. On a whim I added Silly Putty to my cart.

Jim loved it. He hadn't played with it since he was a kid, but the physical and emotional reconnection he made with the gooey, stretchy toy was instantaneous.



I can't explain what happened next other than he was sitting next to me on the sofa watching Stand By Me, quietly playing with his new toy, and this happened.



He tried to pull it off but the heat from his arm made it impossibly sticky. It was like hot gum.



Lucky for him, I had already read up on such possibilities on the Internet. There are hundreds of pictures of little kids with Silly Putty in their hair. No pictures of 39 year olds with it in their arm hair that I know of until now.

So, out came the olive oil which worked like a charm.

(Thanks sweetheart for letting me tell your story!)

How We Met Our Neighbors

Our first home was in a new subdivision in my hometown. There were a few existing houses when ours began being built, but for the most part the whole area was under construction.

While our home was in the finishing stages of construction, we would go in it at night to paint, or just see the progress they had made that day. The contractors kept the house locked up at night but they gave us the garage access codes so we were able to get in.

After we moved in, we enjoyed walking through all the new homes around us in their various stages of completion.

Three houses down from ours was an identical floor plan as our home, with the one major exception of theirs having a walkout basement. We had toyed around with the idea of doing the basement, but opted for the single story. We really loved our home, but were curious how the house looked with the basement.

Technically, said home still belonged to the construction company, but they were 99% done so the new neighbors would be moving in any day. We decided to take a peek. We looked through the windows but couldn't see much. We tried the door but it was locked.

It occurred to us that we knew the access codes the construction company used on the new houses.

We tried one.
No luck.
We tried one of their alternates.
No luck.
One more try... score.

Seeing as how we were semi-breaking-into-someones-almost-home, we shut the garage door behind us while we snooped. All was good. We looked around upstairs. We looked around downstairs. We liked our home better.

Gasp. Someone just pulled into the drive... We are so busted.

"Quick, out the back door." The back door (1) doesn't have a deck so it's about a 15 foot drop. (2) Is nailed shut. Seriously, NAILED. SHUT.

This is where panic sets in. Like something out of a movie, we started desperately running in different directions then into each other.

Jim says to me "Let's hide!"

We can actually hear keys jingling at the front door and female voices fast approaching.

"We can't hide, if they see us, that would be worse!"

Key is turning in the door.

"Let's just introduce ourselves like it's no big deal."

In walks a very surprised almost-home-owner and her friend. Did I mention our new neighbor is physically handicapped?

"Hi, I'm Angie and this is my Husband, Jim." (Smile Ang, look innocent) "We live down the street and wanted to peek at your beautiful home before you moved in. Welcome to the neighborhood."
She was very confused about why we were in her almost-home, but I have to say she was pretty nice under the circumstance. We left as quickly as we could.

We lived in that neighborhood for 3 years and could never quite look her in the eye after that. I'm sure word spread to "watch out for that one couple, they break into homes."

When they say you never get a second chance to make a first impression, they mean it. If you screw up the first time, you may have to drive the long way home to avoid seeing your neighbor.