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Exploding Hammers


marc_leclerc

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we used to go to a park at night, shoot a bunch of paintball guns in the air and then run around seeing who got hit with falling paintballs. (we were bored in suburbia)

 

Anvil Shooting on the other hand, is just suicidal! I am not even going to blink when I see on the news that someone got killed by a falling anvil now.

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When I was in high school in Fort Worth, Texas one of our buddies brought an authentic Australian aboriginal boomerang to the Scout troop meeting one night. This thing was about 18' long on each leg, and the edges were pretty damn sharp, made of a very hard wood. After the meeting, 5 or 6 of us went a few blocks away to the local Army surplus store and snuck over the back fence by the warehouse where there were a bunch of old WWII army helmets in a bin, and got geared up. Then we stopped by home to get some flashlights, and headed over to the high school football field. It was a cloudy night, dark as a stack of black cats, could hardly see your hand in front of your face.

 

We got out in the middle of the field and started throwing that boomerang, trying to spot it with the flashlights as it came zinging back, either running or hitting the dirt as it went slashing by overhead. Several pretty close calls, but fun as hell. Finally someone did get hit, sustaining a pretty cool-looking gash on his cheekbone just below the eye. Even so, we took a few more throws, succeeded in denting one of the Army helmets, and then one throw went wild and broke a window on the fieldhouse. Neighbor lights came on across the street and we hit the ground, but whoever it was went back inside, and we headed for home.

 

By the time we got a couple blocks away on the hill above school, here came a police car pulling up by the football field, shining his spotlight around, and we ducked behind some hedges to watch till he left.

 

We returned the army helmets the next night after dark, so far as I know they never missed 'em. The guy with the gash on his cheek bone had a little explaining to do to his folks, who couldn't afford to have it stitched, so he wears that little Clint Eastwood scar to this day. High school was boring, but we always managed to find some kind of fun.

 

 

 

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I was born and raised in Houston, where it's flat as a pancake, no views. Moved to NM and started hiking climbing, just peak bagging. Went back to Houston for about 5 years and near went stir-crazy. At night we would go to the stadiums by the local high school and climb the light towers. You have to shimmy up to the bottom of the bolts and then it's just a bolt ladder. We wore tight fitting tennis and leather gloves.

 

The friend I was with wasn't that athletic and one time he got tired near the top. Didn't even know about ropes back then, so it was all free solo. The top was a little crow's nest and we would hang out and enjoy the view. The scariest time was when a city police helicopter flew within about 200 yds of our location, he must have not seen us cuz he didn't stop.

 

Locally in my neighborhood they shoot guns anytime there's fireworks. You can hear the difference, like 6 rounds going off, it's got a deeper booming to it. Pretty sure they're shooting into the air without thought of the consequence. My retired neighbor lady once called me over to ask me about some recent damage to her car. She pointed out a hole in the roof. I looked closely and sure enough it was a bullet hole. Good reason to stay inside on the 4th and new years.

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