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Funny Letter


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I was checking around in my in box when I re read this letter from an old friend of mine. Having read it before still made me chuckle a bit and I thought that you all would enjoy this good read.




Sitting Bull.

Running Bear.

Dances with Wolves.


The Great Spirit has shown me my true indian name - Catches Arrows with Fist. Wonder why...? Well lads, there's a tale in the tellin, so pull up a chair.


Saturday a sizable group of us went to the Maryland Rennaisance Festival - fun, frolic and bloody meat on wooden stakes. In the midst of the normal revelry of hurling axes, knives and so forth, young Master Zachary sought to unleash a few arrows, and so it was that he and Uncle Mike took to the archery range. Sadly, amid the numerous shafts I was given lay a cursed item, likely a Goblin arrow in origin or maybe a cheap Mordor-knockoff. In any case, I drew back, released and... zwack! The arrow shattered right in the bow!


I saw the front half of the arrow take off in an end-over-end spiral, noting right away the short length and lack of fletching.


Methinks "Huh. That's odd..." (The unbridled cleverness of this observation will become obvious in a moment.)


It was about this time that my ever-so-curious mind thought to glance down. Here I quickly find the missing half shaft... still nocked and actually maintaining a fair bit of pressure against the string. The physics incongruity of pressure against the string necessitating pressure from the other end eluded me for a moment. That was until I discovered that the other end was driven through my left hand.


Menowthinks "dadgum. That ain't right." (Lightning-like perception in battle is one of my most notable qualities.)


Anyway, I un-nocked and pulled the bloody shaft out quickly, lest the sight upset the kids. Impalements and spurting blood is always a bummer at festive events, as evidenced by the young squires running the booth, who paled rather abruptly. One young maiden in particular had the watery look of one about to "hurleth chow".


As it turned out, the first-aid station was right next to the beer tent, a decision made no doubt by someone who fully appreciated the inherent humor in juxtaposing the badly injured with the seriously drunk. Across the path was a performance by comedians "Puke and Snot", rounding out the extravaganza of unseemly bodily fluids.


Apparently the medics on staff are trained to handle paper cuts and the occasional juggler's elbow, because they were quite unprepared to deal with exotic wounds like somebody who had been poked with a sharp stick. This struck me as odd since the jousting ring was less than a hundred paces away, but I shrugged the anomaly off as a either tragic irony or a testament to some lousy jousting skills. The EMT, who couldn't get over the fact that the hole actually went clear through my hand, was trying to wash it out and wrap it all up while I was rather loudly doing my Julia Childs / SNL gag of "oooh, I've cut the dickens out of myself", which seemed to mesmerize two beer-swilling guys in scotland T-shirts standing in the next tent. While cheap and gratuitous humor, I have never been able to pass up a good prop or a captive audience. The EMT thought that I, and my injury, were both on the odd side. The drunks however, really enjoyed the show and were graciously liberal with their applause. Leave it to a couple of tank-up scots to appreciate the fine points of a good blood-letting.


The ER visit that night was equally humorous (the trip was postponed untill midnight so we could still spend the rest of the day at the festival). Now I challenge you... try to go to the ER and under "nature of complaint" try to write "arrow through hand" with a straight face. It had a Monty Pythonesque sense of humor that infected everybody who read it, except the chef who had near-amputated his own finger and just couldn't get into the revelry of self-impalement. Pah, his loss-- oh sure, he may have his dignity but at least I can still count past nine-and-a-half!


Throughout my stay, ER staffers came by my curtained-off enclosure saying "Oh, YOU'RE the arrow guy." I felt like such a celebrity.


Discussion of the incident did bring about the odd geometric quandries of how one shoots onself with a bow and arrow which, believe me, makes the problem of shooting yourself with a rifle look pale by comparison. Humor notwithstanding, the ER experience had a couple of interesting elements, not the least of which is having the doc shove gauze in one side of your hand and pull it out through the other, or stick a needle in the middle and have red/clear liquid spurt out both sides at once. Let me assure you, the novelty catalogs that advertise "tricks, fun, fool your friends" have NOTHING on the visual humor of a through-and-through puncture wound.


Not all was fun and laughter mind you. The doc had to reach through my hand with forceps and muck about all down the length of the thumb-bone and tendon to make sure I didn't have any breaks, tears or splinters stuck in odd places. I don't recommend that part.


So now, aside from a greatly reduced typing speed, I find myself with a better sense of my native american brothers, and a much greater understanding of the physics involved in catching arrows. That ninja-zen crap is a lot of hooey, all those kung-fu guys have to do is hold their palm in the arrow's path. Trust me, the arrow will stop.


Well, that's the news from my world. And so it is that I bid you farewill with a smile and a wave of my perforated flipper.


As always,


Catches Arrows with Fist

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When the sheet of glass went into my foot. Not me, I freaked and sent the blood pumping out even faster. Shouldn't panic. I learned that much. I love the writing style, having been to a few Renaissance Festivals myself. Huzzah!


Cache you later,




I feel much more like I do now than when I first got here.

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That is the funniest thing I've read all week! Thanks Rob!


I was reminded of the cache hunt where I fell onto a branch that protruded up from a fallen log. It drove into my shin and opened a one-inch hole. Little Leprechaun asked, in this order:


1. Can we still look for the cache or do we have to go?

2. Are you OK, Daddy?


We found the cache 20 minutes later.



Please attend our seminar, "Geocaching for Time Travelers," which will be held two weeks ago.

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That's a great attitude your friend has. Thanks for sharing.


I can sympathize to a point. But nothing that bad. Once showed up to the doctor's office to get tetanus(sp?) shot for a hamster bite. Another time to the ER because I had stabbed my calf with a putty knife while scrapping some goop off the basement floor(7 stitches total). And then there was the time I slammed the hatchback door on top of my head and almost knocked myself out cold. The head tends to bleed alot. After a while you just have to laugh about it.


-Sushi of the fisherKings

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I was in a very serious motorcyle accident maybe 15yrs ago.

It was raining out at the time.

When I gained consciousness, I couldnt see anything, it appeared mainly due to the rain that had fallen on my helmet's faceshield. I am a lefty, so I used my left hand to wipe off my helmet so I could see. When I did this, I bumped something else in front of my face. I couldn't tell what it was, so I swatted at it a few times. Every time I did this, it swung back and forth, like it was pivoting right above my head. It seemed sorta like a broken branch. As I'm laying in the middle of a major road, in the rain, swatting this "branch" back and forth, it suddenly dawns on me that this is a really odd place for a tree branch to be.

Upon further focusing of my eyes, I finally figured out that the broken branch was actually my right arm. My collarbone had been shattered and my arm dislocated, wrapping around behind my back and over the top of my head.

I still get a good laugh over that one! icon_biggrin.gif


Tae-Kwon-Leap is not a path to a door, but a road leading forever towards the horizon.

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One time I borrowed my Dad's junkie (were't they all) Chevy Vega wagon (blue) to move stuff back to college. The rear hatch didn't work and had no lock so he drilled it out. To fasten it, you took a bungie strap, hooked it around the bumper and put the other hook thru the hole where the lock had been.


When I was refastening it, the bungie end flew out of my hand and the hook, traveling Mach 3, hooked up one of my nostils. The ER had a good laugh about that bloodie nose!!! No stitches, just a tetnus shot and alot of packing. icon_eek.gif

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The Cherokee name for someone who puts an arrow thru his hand is Wa-da-fa-ow-chit. The closest translation is 'dork'.

Seriously, my youngest son, who is a carpenter, once shot a nail thru his hand with a nail gun. I asked him if his friends now called him Jesus? No, he didn't think that was funny either. My stepson(even younger) got his wee-wee caught in the zipper of his pajamas. I did an evaluation and decided that the only remedy was to yank the zipper away from it. This meant a trip to the ER, in case there was any bleeding. More important, it would let me off the hook in case the unspeakable happened. The best part of that episode is the blackmail value whenever said stepson tries to gloat over any peccadillos of his parents.

Btw, the answer to the subject line is: that's what the chief asked when they tied his pemmican loaf in a knot.

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I was staying with a friend and his family one Xmas long ago. His son was just big enough to stand up and pee and still make it in the bowl. Well, one morning the lid and seat weren't quite all the way up and came crashing down on a most personal part. There was apparently much bruising but no permanent damage. Later that evening, we went to dinner at his pastor's home. My friend's daughter was getting a great amount of sympathy from the pastor's wife about a scratch on her face she got from a cat. Not to be outdone by his younger sister, the boy says, "Do you want to see my owwee?", and proceed to drop his sweatpants. icon_eek.gif


He is now 14 and you can get him to turn the brightest shade of red at the mere mention of it.


"A good compromise leaves everybody mad." - Calvin

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Very funny story, RobAGD!!


Back in high school, my best friend and I were loafing around the house. I saw a carpet knife lying on the table, so I instinctively picked it up and pushed the blade out.


My buddy happened to pass by, so I did my best "Zorro" impersonation and made a quick slash toward his direction.


He grabbed his leg and looked at me with a kind of puzzled and scared look.


"Ah, I didn't cut you." I said. All in honesty, I did not intend to. Upon prying his hands from his leg I saw the most amazing display of gaping flesh and a good amount of blood.


The doctor gave him fourteen stitches.


I guess you would call it accident prone, but my best friend encountered several others after my attempt-All during one summer:


While mowing, a piece of metal flew from the lawnmower, entered his calf muscle from the front (right next to the shin bone) and exited at the back of his leg. Four more stitches.


Two broke wrists-a flawed attempt to slam-dunk a basketball.


A broke collar bone and a broke nose from trying his best to jump the creek on his 4-wheeler.


Figured I'd add my funnys icon_smile.gif


I got a shotgun and a rifle and a four wheel drive,


A country boy can survive -Kid Rock, Hank Williams, Jr.

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Several years ago I was working in a small retail shop. I was installing a door chime and had to run a wire above the drop ceiling tiles. As I was up there - standing, naturally, above the label that says "do not stand above this" - the leg of the ladder suddenly twisted and gave way ... I fell into the corner of a display cabinet. My right forearm hit first, then my face into forearm, then my mid-section along the edge of the cabinet. I rolled off and landed face-down on the floor. Having trained as (though never actually worked as) an EMT, I knew the best thing for it was to sit still until the extent of my injuries had been determined.


Unfortunately, my co-workers and the lone customer in the store insisted on freaking out. So there I was, lying stone still face down on the floor, trying to yell at them to calm down (as best I could, anyway - the wind had been knocked out of me pretty good) while trying to figure out for myself what my injuries were.


Finally getting them to clam down (or to at least freak out silently), I began to assess my injuries. Neither of my legs hurt and I could move them fine. Same with my left arm, though my right arm was killing me. Knowing that my head and neck had not been snapped back or twisted, I dared move my head. No problems. My nose was bleeding pretty good from where it had hit my own forearm, but didn't seem to be broken. I turned my attention to my right arm...


There, on the outside of the forearm, was a swollen, discolored spot the size of a softball. In much the same manner the author of RobAGD's letter thought, "dadgum. That ain't right," so I did at that point.


I slowly got up, cradling my right arm in left. "Yup, that's broken," I thought to myself.


I had one of my co-workers drive me to the emergency room, as the hospital was only about two miles down the road - it would be faster and less expensive than a ride in a resuce vehicle.


I walked to the admission desk and as I filled out the paperwork as best I could with my good wing usless, the volunteer looked at my arm and said, "wow, that has to be broken."


A few minutes later I was having my vitals taken by a nurse who confidentally informed me that she was certain my arm was broken.


After the standard forty-five minute wait, I was finally taken back by another nurse. "Wow, you broke your arm good," he commented on the way.


A doctor was (surprisingly) with me quite quickly, and after a quick examination said he was sure my arm was broken, but wanted me to go to radiology just to get confirmation.


A quick roll through the halls later, and as the radiologist helped painfully (for me, not her) to arrange my arm for the pictures, told me she was quite certain that I had a break.


That done, I was rolled back out to wait for the doctor.


And then, five minutes later, was rolled back to radiology for more pictures.


Finally, after about another half-hour or so, the doctor came back, carrying my films and laughing. "You're not going to believe this," he said and hung the films for me to look at.


No break. Just a very, very bad bruise. The swelling went down after a while and some ice. The next day my entire right forearm was lovely shades of blue, purple and yellow.

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Originally posted by ikayak:

I told insaneape about your "funny" motorcycle story. He and his friends now entertain each other by imitating your "broken branch swat".

Hey, I still imitate it for fun and amusement myself, so go for it! Just tell them it DOESN'T work for picking up chicks at the bar (Uhm, errr, or so I've been told)!


Tae-Kwon-Leap is not a path to a door, but a road leading forever towards the horizon.

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11 feet deep, fell from the deep end trying to catch the ball. Did some kind of tuck and roll, landing on my back(9 years old at the time). Ambulance ride to the hospital, exrays, oops zipper on shirt, another set of exrays, no damage. My mother insists my guardian angel jumped in first to catch me. All the kids at school the next day said I heard you broke your back!


Thebryno nail-gunned his finger just the other day. Told his friend to grab the plyers, pulled it out. Caching the next day.


Cache you later,



Never underestimate the power of stupid people in large groups.

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Insaneape is too young to be hanging out in bars (by a few years), but has been entertaining the chicks with the "broken branch swat". This past weekend we saw him across the room, teaching the guitar player the swat. Insaneape is a bass player, maybe that is why he thinks it is so funny... icon_wink.gif

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