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February 16, 2016
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When I was 14 years old, my younger brother and I performed one of our many infamous experiments (not the first, nor the last). We took a live 12-gage shotgun shell and carefully dissected it, into the separate components of it's composition. Next we pulled the fuse out of a perfectly good 'Black Cat' firecracker and set it aside, for later use. Then we took a spent .45 ACP case and punched the primer out, using one of my Dad's tools, that he would have an apoplectic fit if he knew. Satisfied with ourselves and not gaining any unwanted notice so far, we continued with our devious plan.
We inserted the firecracker fuse through the case ignition hole, so that about 1/8" stick up into the inside. We then poured the shotgun shell powder into the .45 case until it was up to the mouth lip. My brother took a brand new #2 pencil and using the perfectly formed eraser, proceeded to ram the powder to a compression ratio of at least a Bazillion-to-1. I then declared that to be too much powder (not for safety sake mind you, it's just that the .45 bullet wouldn't go in otherwise), so he pried some of the disc powder out until there was enough space for the projectile to seat adaquately. You know where this is going right? Guessed it awhile ago, did you? Good for you.
We crimped the case mouth around the base of the bullet with another of Dad's aforementioned tools, grabbed a Zippo lighter and went outside. Hmmmm, where to place our home-made bomb? Hey, let's put it on a wooden redwood fence post in the side yard? Sure, why not? I gently placed our carefully constructed apparatus up on the fence post sideways, with the fuse poking over the edge. My brother flicked the wheel, engaging the spring-fed flint, causing a spark, which ignited the lighter fluid and he passed the flame over the fuse tip. "Ready"? he says. The fuse starts sputtering and I screamed; "RUN"! We both turned and ran ... right smack-dab into each other and knocked ourselves down onto the ground. We were laughing so hard, we couldn't get up, even with the threat of imminent death upon us.
We finally managed to get up and run and got only about twenty yards when it exploded and we hit the ground as the concussion and shrapnel flying around us. We looked back and surveyed the destruction of a previously very serviceable fence post. "Uh oh", my understating brother whimpered. Yep, the top third was missing entirely .. just gone, disintegrated.
What dumb shits we were .. but somehow, we survived. What did you do ?
February 20, 2008
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Very well written. Glad you are here to tell the tale!
Plausible deniability - I didn't do nuten, ever. Except once back in the mid 60's, when I was a a passenger with my buddy Michael and we (with him driving) borrowed his mother's corvair to buy a new bike tire tube. Oh, we were only thirteen. On the way back, the local countable noticed it wasn't Mrs. Reali (ore the vowel at the end of her last name) driving her car and with hand motions, instructed us to follow him…back to Michael's home, where upon he deliver us inside. The constable informed us in front to Mrs. Reali, (who was all of four feet eight inches tall, at ready to clobber us with a broom), that it was a very dangerous task we performed and jeopardized other safety and Mr. Reali's insurance rates. All very politely, because Mr. Reali was the owner of several garbage (cart) trucking companies…(New York) wink, wink, nod, nod, and the constable's chief received a nice Xmas present each year ein a paper bag. After Mrs. Reali left the kitchen, the constable said to us in a low voice, "If you two ever do this again, I'll lock up your F$#&ing asses!
Not as exciting as as Singer's - without any ATF.
If you're going to drink, don't drive. Don't even putt.
May 26, 2015
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A really long time ago in the early 90's (lol) me and my brother were very destructive torwards toys, we'd have our wrestling toys fight the ninja turtles and whichever side lost the figure war, had to make one sacrifice...TO THE FIRE! Wish I had pics but our fascination for burnin' toys eventually grew to using solders and grinders, after say 3 years (and many burned fingertips) we finally decided the figure war was over. With the ninja turtles having the most survivors. We had creative ways to explain why some things our folks got us were so damn..."melty-looking"
Mom! It was under the stove whille you were cooking! "I don't smell any burning plastic! you're imagining things ma!
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