Excerpt from "Life Lesson My Father Taught Me" (877 hits)
Category: HumorRating: 2 on 21 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by The Internet Slacker (View user info) at 2005-10-17 20:02:27 EDT
The years we lived in the country hold some of the dearest memories for me. We lived by the river with a large lawn leading from it to our house, so a small bonfire wasn't a rare thing for my Dad to light during the summer nights. I love a bonfire even to this day, since my Dad seemed to be at his mellowest: holding a beer, looking into the fire while poking it with a stick, he'd make lousy jokes or berate me for something I did, said, or considered out loud. Ah, the memories...
One particular night I was inside the house and, true to habit, Father went outside to light a bonfire. I stayed inside and, for some odd precognizant reason, decided to watch my Dad from the safety of the living room.
So there I was, leaning on the backrest of the sofa looking out the window as my Dad piled on lots of wood into the bonfire pit. The stars shone down as silent bemused witnesses to the pouring of gasoline from his small red plastic gas can, the spout emitting clear gouts of flammable fuel onto the large pile of wood. Satisfied that he had added enough "liquid encouragement" to the mound, he lit a match, threw it on the woodpile, and stepped back a foot or two as the gas ignited.
Now, read that last sentence carefully. The more observant of you may have already noted that the proper order above should really be 'light match, step back, throw on fire', not 'light match, throw on fire, step back.' But my dear ol' Dad was always the improvisational type when it came to personal safety.
The wood caught on fire, of course, but my Pa reeled back as the hungry flames reached out for him. Fortunately for most of his eyebrow and sideburn hair, in a rare moment of conservation he hadn't added enough fuel to actually cause a harmful explosion (this time, I have other stories), but the flames did take a brief snack on his head. But no wimp my Dad, oh no: the bonfire was going, but it was still very much too small even though it had almost immolated him when it initially flared. Brushing the black soot off his face that used to be parts of his receding hairline, he commenced pouring on more gasoline, but in a slower fashion.
For some reason, I still remember being quite calm, as calm as the stars themselves, as I watched the bonfire's flames grow and grow until one errant freakish hot lick of oxidation traveled along the flow of the gasoline to the beginning of its source. Suddenly my Dad was holding a gas can that was on fire.
For a split second, his left eyebrow went up in a pretty dead-on approximation of Mr. Spock's facial expression when he stumbles on a particularly fascinating new species of Tribble. Deeply interested, yet somehow detached, as if his thoughts were something along the lines of, "Got the bonfire going, now to yell at my son to get me a beer...oh, look, the gas can I'm holding is now on fire and melting. Huh."
His neutral facial expression changed pretty fast, though, to one of outright dismay and panic. It crossed my mind that I should probably call my Mother for help at that point, but I didn't want to turn my head away for one split second just in case Father detonated. I imagined at the time it would be something like I'd seen in the cartoons, where there's a loud "BANG" and the screen goes red and orange in circular waves that slowly fade to a blackened cartoon character looking like it'd been dragged through a field of rocks. I'd seen my Dad in a lot of states before - wounded, hung-over, asleep at the steering wheel - but this was a unique sight I particularly didn't want to miss.
The Angel Of Idiot Fire Starters was on extra duty that night, I suspect, as my Dad spun around in abject fear...first to the left (creating a half-crescent of fire on the lawn as the flaming gasoline spewed out in action-reaction response), followed by a terror-and-burning-gas-laden spin to the right (creating another half-crescent of fire that completely encircled him like some sort of weird burning Satanic ritual). Realizing that these actions weren't helping the matter much, and in fact were probably encouraging the possibility of being violently scattered over the family back lawn as burning meat chunks, dear ol' Papa bolted towards the presumably fire-quenching properties of the nearby river.
His shoes caught on fire as he ran through the circle of flame but that was the least of his worries at that moment. The family Doberman, digging up the lawn twenty yards away and stupider than a sack of stunned weasels, noticed my Dad dashing across the backyard...which somehow stimulated the canine brain area storing the 'Alpha Male Master Wants To Play With Me Now' impulse. The excited dog tore off into an approaching tangent to my Dad, moving in like a scud missile onto a tragically fat and burning biplane.
The words that emanated from my Father can't really be printed here, or in fact should be printed at all, in any media; all I can remember is a lot of "Goddammits!" and "No! No! NO!!" and "Bad Dog! Bad Dog! BAD DOG I'M ON FIRE!" as the overly-excited family Doberman leapt up and down on my Dad's running bulk. Finally getting to the river's edge, he threw the flaming gas can with great alacrity towards the waters. With even greater vigor he grappled the Doberman as it began to launch itself after what was obviously a warm red-and-orangey toy his Master obviously wanted him to "fetch" and "bring back". It was fortunate my Dad managed to hold the dog down, because by that time the river was pretty much on fire.
Even more fortunate was the fact that the gas can never blew up; it melted a bit but sank into the water, extinguishing the flames forever (unless, somehow, it ever gets into my Dad's hands again). The river was lit up for a small time afterwards which drew out our neighbors. I still remember the guy from next door complimenting my Dad's new "cooked and ready-to-eat" fishing technique. He asked if the fish would come up as breaded sticks like Captain Highliner's.
I don't think I even need to say the Life Lesson at this point, but I will: "Play With Fire And You WILL Get Burned...And Possibly Take Some People With You In A Big Fiery Explosion".
User Reviews
Submitted by DirtyHarry (user info) at 2007-05-14 15:04:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by userpete86 (user info) at 2005-10-18 18:25:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I giggled and cried at work.
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2005-10-18 15:00:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Merlina (user info) at 2005-10-18 12:59:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
now this is the sort of thing we need more of on Uber.. well done.
Submitted by internetslacker (user info) at 2005-10-18 11:49:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Thank you for the great comments!!!
Submitted by Teephphah (user info) at 2005-10-18 11:46:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I never ACTUALLY "LOL" at Uber posts. But this time I did. Repeatedly.
This was awesome.
Submitted by EatMeCompletely (user info) at 2005-10-18 11:21:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Very well then.
Submitted by Average_Dan (user info) at 2005-10-18 07:54:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I really enjoyed this!
Submitted by ozzy (user info) at 2005-10-18 06:59:06 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This was some of the best shit I've read on Uber:
It was free from Uber cliches, funny as a fart in an elevator and flowed beautifully.
Good show old chap.
Submitted by DanielH (user info) at 2005-10-18 06:50:55 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
But my dear ol' Dad was always the improvisational type when it came to personal safety.
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This was classic. +++
When I lived farther west on the beach at Fort Morgan, I built a boardwalk out of roughly 1200 30"- long 2x6 planks, which hurricane Opal swirled like toothpicks under my house, so a bonfire was in order once the wood had dried. (Planks were un-resalable cut at such a length, and sun-buckled.) It took three of us days to stack the planks into the most hu-fuckin-mongous pyre I've ever seen, with gallon jugs of gasoline placed liberally at various levels within it. Eventually it got big as a house. I mean that literally.
Fastforward:
UPI: "What thousands along the Gulf Cost thought was an oil rig explosion turned out to be only a Halloween bonfire..." etc. etc. True story. It burned for almost a week. I have pics.
Submitted by joedaddy (user info) at 2005-10-18 01:12:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This was outstanding.
I can't quite tell if you're the 'boomer' or your Dad.
I will check out your site for: familiarity, because it is so lacking, for me, at this site.
Submitted by GrayGhost (user info) at 2005-10-17 23:49:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Copy or not, it's damned funny.
"If I haven't seen it, it's new to me!"
Submitted by ghola (user info) at 2005-10-17 22:59:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by simple_catalyst (user info) at 2005-10-17 22:12:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
mmm... instant black brim...
Submitted by stardamage (user info) at 2005-10-17 21:31:45 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I forgot to mention that sparklers are illegal in Massachusetts and the police in my town have nothing to do anyway.
Submitted by stardamage (user info) at 2005-10-17 21:30:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Similar experience: my friend noted for his lack of forethought (on our submarine of friendship, he is the crazed crack addict at the torpedo bay gleefully blowing up the harbor) was one time lighting the grill at my house for an impromptu barbeque. I turned away for a second and turned back to see him squirting the lighter fluid from the can in a stream, through the flame of the lit match, towards the grill heaped with charcoal, already soaked with lighter fluid and conveniently positioned five feet from the wall of my house.
Through some miracle the match went out and the lighter fluid did not ignite. He was banned from lighter fluid forever.
This is the same friend who wanted to light sparklers in my friend Brian's car and drop them out the window when we were riding down the main street of town, at night, when the car smelled of pot and we had empty beer bottles rolling around on the floor.
Submitted by RamJetMax (user info) at 2005-10-17 20:51:06 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
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Submitted by pen_name (user info) at 2005-10-17 20:09:55 (#)
Ranking: 2
i'm going to assume this is yours since the names match.
http://www.markx.net/internetslacker/stories/lessons3.htm
but you should be explicit so people don't think it is a copy/paste and tear you up for it.
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Agreed. Once the sharks smell blood it's over.
Submitted by Bizantine (user info) at 2005-10-17 20:32:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
well written - i think everyone's beeen in a situation like this. when i was about 12, my friend had similar notions to your father. i can still remember that startled look on his face
"oh dear, this container appears to be on fire. i feel my hand getting warmer. this doesn't feel at all normal."
i think at times like that, the mind is swamped by sensory information and so finds it difficult to understand rudimentary instructions like "f**king throw it away!"
after several efforts, he did get it, but unfortunately by that time his clothes had jumped on the bandwagon and caught fire aswell. miraculously, he wasn't injured, though how, i have no idea.
One phrase stood out from your story: "stupider than a sack of stunned weasels"
i'd like to give you a +3 for that, but i think Uber might frown on it, so you'll just have to cross your eyes and try to interpret the +2 as such.
Submitted by pen_name (user info) at 2005-10-17 20:16:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
well, you said this was an excerpt in the title. i wanted to make sure it was from your own work.
uber gets grumpy when someone gets lazy and just throws up someone else's blog/essay/article...etc.
Submitted by internetslacker (user info) at 2005-10-17 20:13:45 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Yup, that's me, just posting some of my stuff to get feedback. I didn't actually know people visited my website....huh...THANK YOU :)
Submitted by pen_name (user info) at 2005-10-17 20:09:55 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
i'm going to assume this is yours since the names match.
http://www.markx.net/internetslacker/stories/lessons3.htm
but you should be explicit so people don't think it is a copy/paste and tear you up for it.