As another Lame Cherry exclusive in matter anti matter.
People are always asking me for some reason, how many critters I have killed in defense of liberty for this fine nation, and it puzzles me as it is not like I have kept a count or anything in chopping notches in a rifle or something. Be nothing left of it I suspect, but the thing is where in critter counting does it begin and end?
I mean, take for example the early forays into liberty, like the time my 10 year old cousin Kurtits, as we used to call him, had liberated my Grandpa's Ford and showed up for a drive. Being 10 years old there was fear of arrest, so Kurtits decided we should so some pasture driving instead and picked up Congo and his little brother Not Congo to open gates.
Well after the 4th gate Congo was not having any of it, as he figured out Kurtits promise of beer in the next crick was nothing but a dry hole, so he and Not Congo decided to protest in getting on the hood of the car and blocking the windscreen, which Kurtits took offense too, and off we went around 90 miles an hour literally stampeding cattle and launching off of one big rock. That big rock was not the problem as we landed ok with the shocks. Congo though and Not Congo, sort of landed twice, in once off the bumper and then over a 200 foot ravine that we screeched up to, as we could see without Congo and Not Congo blocking the view.
Neither one was moving as Kurtits peered into the chasm, so he proclaimed then "OK" or they would be yelling or something and we drove home without opening or closing gates.
Not Congo recovered, but had amnesia in tattooing a rock to his head, and still walks a bit odd, but Congo sort of stayed OK to the pearly gates.
Grampa always was pissed them Congo boys swiped his car, but it served them right for getting kilt and walking funny as it was their own fault.
Then there was the time at my sister's wedding, when Odd Leo, who was a relative of her husband's said for me to tag a ride home. Him being 17 and a man and me being just 14, it was figured adult supervision.
Odd Leo borrowed a case of beer and away we went at 130 miles per hour down the paved roads of America. Around about Dead Man's Curve, something happened in Odd Leo spotted his good friend, Pete out mowing road ditches, and as Pete liked beer, Odd Leo wanted to be a good Samaritan and toss Pete a cold brew.
Neither one of us were into mathematics at the time, as it might have occurred that a car moving at 130 mph, and a 16 ounce Pabst Blue Ribbon launched at a farmer going 4 mph on a John Deere 720 might have some kind of consequences, but it was being neighborly and as Odd Leo was a good Catholic, it was something for confession, and that is how it all began.
Odd Leo could have won Olympic gold if there was some event about driving cars at death speeds on Dead Man's Curve, and clocking farmers with beer cans, but all there was, was a notice from the priest about the hazards of drinking and driving at Pete's funeral.
Sure put a Pabst Blue Ribbon paint label on his head. His kin folk tried to market it all, but for some reason the company was not interested in coffin pics with Blue Ribbon on a dead dudes forehead.
There was also the time that we spent the afternoon watching Lil Wilbur build an Evil Kneevil jump ramp for his mini bike across the road. I said he should have a parachute, so stuck a sheet into a gunny sack for his back. I was called a girl for doing that in taking precautions.
Thing is it was not so much the jump, but the road part, because Lil Wilbur gunned it and had it timed perfectly to perform the death defying part about the Crazy Russian kids who thought that jumping over a moving truck would be the Evil thing to do. The jump went fine and Lil Wilbur made a fine hood ornament on that 18 wheeler and a big ass dent too.
Lil Wilbur they found laying in the ditch as that kid was always doing dangerous stuff, and them Russians were telling their fury of a father they hit a big rabbit.
It was around the 4th of July, when the adult children sort of borrowed the parents pick ups, as the keys were in them and the parents were off at a picnic, where we were supposed to be.
Someone decided that jousting was a great idea, so not having horses, pickups were decided upon, along with Roman Candles, which sort of ended up in a 6 foot pipe, and sort of ended when the fireworks were used up, and then Four Fingers Barry informed us of a great idea, that involved a can, a firecracker and originally water, but was deemed too tame, so someone named Gomer's Pile added gasoline.
Four Fingers lit it, and the idea was for a sort of Roman Candle we all could play with, but this was unique in in the pipe is what went upward, with a rocket's red glare, instead of the can. Thing is Four Fingers was hanging onto the pipe when it went skyward. I could not judge distance but Four Fingers left the tree tops way behind.
The good news as the flame cauterized all the bleeding, but the earth breaking Barry's fall was not so good.
We though were at the picnic, so we had no idea of what had happened.
Lastly, there was the time the crazy Russians had real horses, wild horses, and they decided to revisit the chariot races thing. The Russians had built chariots out of pulling wheels off of farm implements, and I think the wood came off the back of the garage.
It might have worked out ok if the Russians had not added electricity in an electric fence laid across the butts of the horses for a sort of super charge out of the starting gate.
I remember climbing into a manure spreader as the horses rounded what was supposed to be the first turn, but it sort of became a Russian castrator as the kid known as "Wild Eyed Russian" impaled his scrotum on the shit spreader beaters.
The other chariot sort of disappeared in a hale of screaming pony and screaming Russians.
They never did find the kid known as "Weird Eyed Russian" so I do not know if that one counts in the critter count tally, but I don't think prejudice should be involved due to technicalities.