I've posted this before, but this topic is just perfect for this story, so here goes.
I was @ 15 (things that long ago are hard for us old guys to remember- I'm 23 but I got called old today by this teenage moron

, and I had recently acquired a hibben throwing knife. After carefully inspecting everything it came in/with, I headed outside to practice.
I was looking for a good target for my newly acquired ninja-like skills (I read the directions printed on the box), when I spy the family cat. With that tingling on the back of the neck that every child gets, I looked to my right into the kitchen window(after having perfectly targeted the cat for skewering), and notice my mother staring at me with THE LOOK.
You know, the one that says "I can't stop you in time, but if you do it I'll beat you senseless." So, I sheepishly turn to find another target(I honestly wasn't out to get the cat, I just got caught up in the hunting urge). I settled on a tree.
Carefully, I paced out the distance to the tree, turned, threw as hard as I could and released. The silver gleam of that knife flying through the air is something I'll never forget. The throw was perfect, the knife rotated perfectly. While I'm not positive (things happened kind of fast here) what exactly happened, this is what I was able to piece together later.
Trees are not flat. There I said it, trees are round. I assume that for one breif instant, the planets must have come into alignment, throwing off the balance of gravity just enough to turn the tip of my thrower about four degrees off center. I stared in horror as this perfect thrower fulcrumed (new verb there) against the tree, and turned 180 degrees, to come straight back and imbed itself in my thigh, @ two inches above my right knee.
I was so shocked that my throw actually stuck, I just stared at the knife in my leg for @ 30 seconds, thinking "I'm good!" My mental celebration was shattered by an earsplitting scream from the kitchen window. Apparently mom had seen the whole thing.
Trying to control the dammage here (I was more worried she would take my knife than I was about the knife protruding from my leg) I just grabbed the knife and jerked it out. Of course this was about the time mom came out the door, and blood just poured out.
Long story short, two stitches later I was back out there at the tree with a new found respect for my throwing knife. I did get revenge against the tree also. After three months of intensive throwing practice, a sheet (and I mean a large sheet) of bark just fell off when I pulled out the knife, exposing the shredded core of the tree. Alas it was a mortal wound, and the tree eventually died, but I only have a tiny scar>
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"I can go over to your mama's house, and start a small fire in her panties." -G. Busey