Flash Fiction #198

Moose Meat

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

Three men hire a bush-pilot to fly them to a remote moose-hunting lodge, and return a week later.

They shoot a moose, and pack the meat. When the pilot returns, he looks at the extra pile, and tells them that his plane won’t take the additional 1500 pounds.

“Aw c’mon, the guy last year let us.” Grudgingly, he agrees, and begins gaining speed across the lake. Just at the far shore, he lifts off, only to tangle with a tree.

One guy regains consciousness, and says, “Where are we?”

His friend replies, “About a hundred yards farther than last year.”

***

Please excuse me. I couldn’t write anything new, so I hope you don’t mind an old joke. I took one look at that photo, and this was all I could think about.

***

Go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple site, and use her Wednesday photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story.

Friday Fictioneers

Firearms VS. My Skull

Shotgun

Have you ever had your head blown off with a 12 gauge shotgun?  I have, almost, and it still gives me shivers when I’m reminded of it!  Actually, that’s a silly question.  If you’d had your head blown off, you wouldn’t be here, answering this silly survey.

Children in my small hometown owned weapons. 14, 15, 16-year-old boys possessed rifles and shotguns.  It was not unusual, of a warm, sunny summer Saturday, to see a group of armed youths, ‘going hunting’, if hooting and yelling, and telling jokes while clomping through the near-by woods could be called hunting.  All the animals were hiding behind trees and snickering.  The only things that got shot were trees and fenceposts – or old appliances and food tins, if we reached the city dump.

One well-armed wight once boasted of ‘bumping off a chickadee’, as if he were a mob hit man. From a distance of 20 feet, he blasted away with a 12 gauge shotgun, leaving nothing but a fine pink mist.  He was also the genius who found an arm-thick, wild apple tree amongst the evergreens, and ‘chopped it down’ using three blasts to its base.

The rifles we owned were mostly little .22 caliber plinkers, capable of very little serious damage. Those who carried 12 gauge shotguns though, were far more dangerous.  .22s are only 22/100ths of an inch wide.  Even .45s, a large handgun shell, are less than half an inch.  12 gauge though, is .730 inches in diameter. And the power comes from the ‘squared’ portion of the Pi/R/Squared formula.  See the size comparison below.

Gauge

I had moved away to get a job, and had returned for Christmas. I’d been able to get presents for my Mom and Dad, but admitted to him that I had no idea about what to get my brother.  He told me that my brother wanted to be armed like his friends for ‘hunting season’, and also told me where there was a bolt action shotgun for sale, much like the one at the top, only in far better shape.

Bolt-action, for a shotgun, is quite rare. It cocks, ready for the next shot, when you lift the bolt handle, rotating a wedge-shaped section backward.  After you manually insert another shell and close the bolt, it is fired by pulling the trigger, to release the spring-loaded portion….usually.

After I had presented it to him on Christmas Day, the brother oohed and aahed over it, and took in into his bedroom, ‘to put it away in his closet.’ I had a small repair chore to do for my Dad, and stepped out into a shed, attached to the back of the old, frame house, with a work area in it.

I was standing close to the house outer wall, with a file and screwdriver in my hands. Suddenly, there was a loud bang, and my head and shoulders stung from small impacts.  I thought at first that a two-bulb, 4-foot fluorescent light fixture had exploded in the cold….but no, I still had light.

I turned, and there was a head-sized hole in the wall, right beside my head.  I could see my brother inside, with the shotgun in his hands, and a dismayed expression on his face.  By the time I’d left home, I’d acquired almost 300 hours of gun-handling and safety training.  Not so my brother, and his gun-toting friends.

He just HAD to know how the gun operated, and inserted a shotgun shell.  Apparently the gun had a 6-inch split, at the back of the barrel.  Instead of cocking, as the bolt was raised, it allowed the cocking cam to slip out of a groove, machined into the barrel, and hang up on the barrel’s rear edge.  When the bolt was pushed forward, it stretched the firing spring, and when the bolt was cranked down, to lock it, the cam snapped back into its slot, and suddenly flew forward, firing the gun.

A couple of fortuitous degrees of angle, or inches of difference in where he, and I, were standing, were the only things that prevented me from becoming a Wisconsin Swiss-Cheese-Head. The gun’s vendor had not wanted to lose a sale by mentioning the flaw, but had to refund my money, and got a good blast from both me and my Dad.  My brother never did end up owning a gun, and it’s probably just as well.

Do any of you have an almost-died story that you wish to share?  This is not my only one.  My brother also almost drowned the both of us one time.   😯  I’m alive and safe now, and look forward to hearing from you again soon.

 

 

Comin’ ‘Round The Mountains

Condom

A 50 year old man walks into a store and asks the
pretty girl behind the counter where the condoms
are. “What size are you?” she asks.

The man replies “I don’t know”. So, she unzips
his pants and whips out his dick and says
“Ooooh, extra large condoms, Aisle 3”

A 30 year old walks in and asks the same thing.
She unzips his pants whips it out and says “Large
condoms – Aisle 3”

A 14 year old is standing outside and sees all
this “I wonder if I go in there and ask if she’ll
do the same for me?”

So, he goes in and asks…She unzips his pants,
whips it out and shouts “Clean-up to the Counter
please!”

***

We have enough youth,
how about a fountain of smart?

***

A physicist, an engineer, and a statistician go on a hunting trip. They are walking through the woods when they spot a deer in a clearing. The physicist calculates the distance of the target, the velocity and drop of the bullet, adjusts his rifle and fires, missing the deer 5 feet to the left.

The engineer rolls his eyes. ‘You forgot to account for wind. Give it here!’ He snatches the rifle, licks his finger and estimates the speed and direction of the wind and fires, missing the deer 5 feet to the right. Suddenly, the statistician claps his hands and yells “We got him!”

***

Doc: Your lab tests show that you’re doing fairly well for a 65-year-old.
Male Patient: “Fairly well”… Do you think I’ll live to be 80?

Do you smoke tobacco or drink beer or wine?
     No. I’m not doing drugs either.

Do you eat rib eye steaks or barbecued ribs?
     No. I think all red meat is very unhealthy.

Do you spend a lot of time in the sun, like golfing, sailing, hiking or bicycling?
No, I don’t.

Do you gamble, drive fast cars, or have a lot of sex?
No, I don’t do any of those things.

Then why the hell do you want to live to be 80?

***

Why Jim Wheeler doesn’t like this joke

A man worked as a Production Engineer, always trying to find ways to do things faster, easier, cheaper. One day a co-worker asked him if he was like this in his entire life. “Oh yes.” He replied. “Just last week I mentioned to the wife that her system of making my breakfast was inefficient, and made several suggestions as to how she might improve things.” “Did it help?” “Oh yes, she used to take a half an hour to make me fried eggs, bacon, toast and coffee. Now, I do it myself in less than 18 minutes.”

😯

 

Leftovers

In my recent My First Time post, I showed pictures of a little three-finger skinner knife I won.  My chiropractor also has an interest in knives, especially the expensive Art Knives.  I let him read my Knives Illustrated magazines after I am finished with them.

He also regularly reads my posts, so I knew that he had seen the photos of the knife, but the next time we went to see him, I took along the knife and sheath for him to handle.  When I went to put it back in the night-table drawer it came out of, I took a close look, and realized how many odd knives I had tucked away over the years.

SDC10789

This is a hunter/skinner made by Queen Cutlery of Titusville PA.  Knowing of my interest in knives, my Father picked this out at random at a flea market in Florida one winter.

SDC10790

Walking through a small park one day, I came upon this cheap Pakistani dagger just lying on the ground with no-one anywhere near.  Ensuring that there was no blood on it, indicating that it wasn’t involved in a crime, I picked it up and brought it home.

SDC10791

This is the little kitchen/paring knife that the wife purchased at the Fall Knife Show in Detroit about two years ago.  It came with the sheath, which hides in the drawer, but it resides in the knife block.  Its blade is made of 5100 tool steel – the alloy that many ball bearings are made from.  This one started as a 1 inch diameter ball.  The extra-thick handle which helps the wife’s weak grip is Rosewood, and the belly of the blade makes cutting easier.

SDC10792

SDC10793

This knife is Japanese-made for the North American tourist trade.  The brass handle is molded to show Indians hunting wolves from a canoe with a bow and arrow on one side, and a white explorer shooting moose on the other.  Heavy as original sin, I wouldn’t want to carry it in a pocket, and it won’t take or hold an edge any better than the piece of Paki crap above.

SDC10794

This was sold as an ‘Airport Knife’ after 9/11.  Made from rigid thermoplastic, it will not set off metal detectors.  It has a flat ‘grind’ on one side only.  One edge is plain, while the other has serrations.  The circle at the haft has thumb-ridges to prevent slipping and increase control.   While not razor-sharp, it will inflict a lot of damage.

SDC10795

This is a bartender’s knife, with a bottle opener, a lid pryer, a corkscrew, and a small blade for opening boxes and cutting seals and corks.

SDC10796

This is a small two-blade, advertising, pen knife.  While this type of knife holds no interest for me, I have seen people’s collections with hundreds of brands on these things.

SDC10797

This is a trick knife.  You can’t open it unless you know the secret.  The blade has no thumb nick.  Where the blade joins the handle, there is a small indent and a ball bearing.  The blade closes as far as you see in the photo, then you invert it and squeeze it closed.  The ball bearing rolls into the slot and locks the blade closed.  Even if you can grasp it tightly enough, it will not release.  Turn it up the other way and squeeze again, and it pops open.

SDC10798

This is a small box-cutter type knife.  I should have photographed it next to a ruler, to show size.  It’s about as big as your little finger.  It has a plastic snap at the end of its lanyard, indicating it may have come on a carry-bag or piece of luggage, but after 9/11 it can’t fly on airplanes, even though it’s dangerous only to creatures smaller than a bumblebee.  I think someone disconnected it and dropped it.  I found it on a floor.

SDC10799

This is the smallest knife I own – even though it’s the wife’s.  She got it at a Detroit knife show about five years ago, the first time we took the grandson with us.  I was smart enough to photograph this one beside a ruler, and the Queen hunter, to show size, about an inch long, closed, with a chain and ring for wallet or key chain.   This one is factory made.  Some makers build miniatures, both straight knives and folders like this.  They can be made from scrap pieces, but the amount of labor is at least as much as with a full-sized knife.  They can cost as much as their big brothers, so there’s a small market for small knives.

SDC10800

This is a railway spike knife, and a spike like the one it was made from.  They are sold as paperweights/letter openers, because the percentage of carbon in the steel is so low that, like the crap above, they won’t take or hold an edge.  These weren’t hidden in the drawer.  I keep them out on display.  I have several other knives on display but….perhaps another day.

#452

Hot Dog

Hot dog stand

Two guys immigrate to America.  On their first
day off the boat they are wandering around New
York City seeing the sights.  As lunch time
approaches they decide they are hungry.  They
then come up to a street vendor selling hot dogs.

One says to the other in a shocked tone, “My God.
Do they eat dogs in America?”

“I don’t know!” says the other, equally appalled.

“Well,” says the first, “we’re going to be
Americans, so we must do as they do.”

They approach the vendor bravely. “Two hot dogs,
please.”

The vendor hands them their food in a pair of
paper sacks.

The two immigrants sit on a park bench to eat
their lunch.  One looks inside his sack,
hesitates and turns to his partner and says,
“Uh, which part of the dog did you get?”

Hot dog

***

A young woman was so depressed that she decided
to end her life by throwing herself into the
ocean.  She went down to the docks and was about
to leap into the frigid water when a handsome
young sailor saw her tottering on the edge of the
pier crying.

He took pity on her and said,  “Look, you’ve got
a lot to  live for. I’m off to Europe in the
morning, and if you like, I can stow you away on
my ship.  I’ll take good care of you and bring
you food every day.”  Moving closer he slipped
his arm round her shoulder and added, “I’ll keep
you happy, and you’ll keep me happy.”

The girl nodded yes.  After all, what did she
have to lose?  That night, the sailor brought her
aboard and hid her in a lifeboat. From then on
every night he brought her three sandwiches and a
piece of fruit, and they made passionate love
until dawn.

Three weeks later, during a routine inspection,
she was discovered by the  captain.  “What are
you doing here?”  the Captain asked.

“I have an arrangement with one of the sailors,”
she explained. “I get food and a trip to Europe,
and he’s screwing me.”

“He sure is, lady,” the Captain said.  “This is
the Staten Island Ferry”

***

Did you hear about the lawyer who named his daughter Sue?

***

Hear about the psychic midget who escaped from
jail?

Yeah the headlines in the newspaper read
“SMALL MEDIUM AT LARGE”.

***

Little Matt is sitting in the back of math class,
obviously not paying any attention, when the
teacher calls his name. “Yeah teach?” he says.

“If  there are three ducks on a fence and you shoot
one of them with your shotgun, how many are
left?” Matt answers “Well, teach, if I shoot one
of them with my shotgun, the loud noise is going
to make them all fly off.” “No, Matt, there will
be two left if you shoot one with your shotgun,
but I like the way you’re thinking.”

“Well,teacher, I’ve got a question for you. There are
3 women that come out of an ice-cream parlor, one
is biting her ice-cream cone, one is licking it,
and one is sucking on it. Which one is married?”

The teacher is a little taken aback by the
question, but answers “Well, uh, gee Matt, I
guess the one that’s sucking on it.” “No teach,
the one that has the wedding ring on her finger,
but I like the way you’re thinking!”

#450

Flash Fiction #27

YOU OUGHTA BE IN PICTURES

Michelin

 

 

 

 

 

Richie had a real mania for anything related to films.  He’d even got an autograph from some kid who held a clapper stick.  He wasn’t hard to convince to come along on an artifact hunting expedition, but, the further we got from the city, the more reluctant he became.

“Why are we way out here?  There’s nothing connected to films in this run-down little village!”

“Sure there is.  They filmed some of the Transformers movies here.” I replied.  “See there.  That’s the changing room for Optimus Prime.  Maybe you could get a tailpipe, or a tire for your rec-room wall.”

 

Go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple site, and use her weekly photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story.