When You Have to Grab the Closest Sharp Thing OR A Ridiculous Story for Friday

[VermontEdge]

Hey Everyone,
Just had to share a ridiculous story about myself on this fine Friday. First, a little background.
I live on a huge 1,400 acre non-profit farm with my wife and dog and a few other residents. About 6 months to 1 year ago, a woman who lives on the property let her dog outside. Watching through the window, she saw two coyotes come out of the woods and start playing with her dog. However, the coyotes then ran into the woods, and her dog followed (thinking they were playing) where the rest of the pack was waiting for an ambush. Pretty creepy, right?
Fast forward to last night. I let my dog outside after dark to use the bathroom, and he ran off toward a tree that he usually patrols for squirrels, so I didn't think much of it. A couple minutes later he wasn't coming when I called him and I heard, in the woods behind the house, some coyotes. I ran inside, panicked, in my sweatpants, and threw on a wool coat and a pair of untied boots and grabbed my ridiculously bright flashlight. Then I frantically looked around the living room for the most club/weapon-like thing I could take with me. The only thing that fit the bill? My Ronin Katana, of course. So, suddenly, I'm running through the woods with 1,600 lumens in one hand and a huge piece of razor sharp 1060 steel (in the sheath, of course. Safety first, right?) in the other.
I could still hear them in the distance, but then started hearing them less and less. The only thing that kept me from laughing at how utterly ridiculous I looked was the fact that I thought I was going to come across my dog's body or something.
Anyway, after a fair amount of searching, I walked back to the house, still nervous and rather dejected.
What happened to my dog? He was eating the freshly spread compost out of the garden in the backyard...which I guess is enough of a reason to not come when I call him.

Anyway, my dog wasn't torn to shreds and I didn't have to hack up a horde of murderous coyotes with my samurai sword in order to save him. And that's when I was finally able to laugh at how completely silly I looked, with my sword and light and sweatpants and floppy untied boots.

Just wanted to share. Happy Friday!

 

[RayseM]

Not a knife story but a stupid story for sure. If I had had a knife I would have sliced myself up pretty badly

Came home one early morning after a double weekend shift as a bartender. Really needed some sleep. Naked (alone) and in bed after an hour or so I'm awakened by a incredibly loud and insistent banging of pots outside my little house bathroom window.

Damn - the raccoons are into the garbage cans. I'm pissed off and groggy and determined to win the battle. My inspiration? Hey - they are directly under my screened bathroom window. I will boil up a pot of water and douse them with a slug of boiling water. That will be a painful reminder that only danger lurks near these garbage cans, right .

12 minutes later naked me has a 2 quart pot of boiling water and a smile on my face as I wound up and threw the water full force out the window at the scavenging raccoons - THROUGH THE SCREEN . Have you ever tried that? Did you know that a screen may as well be a solid pane of glass when you throw water at it. I learned that very useful lesson that night

Geez - wasn't I red (yes literally and figuratively). :uncomfortableness: Glad I was alone.

Raccoons did leave but I think it was my screaming that scared them off.

 

[K.O.D.]

As a toddler/young child (3-4 years old), my sister slept walked. One night, my mother woke up hearing the front door unlock and open at about 3 am. Desperately trying to wake my dad to tell him she thinks someone is in the house, they hear the door open and close again, then the deadbolt being locked. My dad, looking for something to attack with, grabs a bic razor. He runs for the stairs, and here comes my sister, walking up the stairs. She proceeds to walk into her room, lay in her bed, pull the covers up, as if nothing happened. Eyes closed, sound asleep for the whole thing. Not sure what my dad was going to do to an intruder with a razor.

 

[A.L.]

Haha, great stories. Im glad that the doggie was okay. I could not imagine the pain. My dog has ran off for a minute or two, but only to reveal that there was delicious smelling dead fish or poo he wanted to roll in.

 

[K.O.D.]

Two funny stories:

I'm newly married (3 months tomorrow) and I was talking to my wife's great aunt just his morning, as I was quoting her insurance. She asked me how my nephews were doing (they were in the wedding, ten months apart, 19 months old and 2.5 years old). I told her the latest story about them. These boys are monstrosities, and are very advanced for their age. The older one, Emmett, recently started talking in full sentences. The younger ones name is Graham, and is able to say phrases like "bless you" when someone sneezes.

So my sister, her husband, and the boys were at the grocery store. They pass the beer section, and Emmett says "Dada likes beer, get Dada beer!" Shortly thereafter, he sees wine and says "Mama likes wine, Mama go get wine." My sister is a little freaked out now, and her husband is blushing badly as people stare at the kids.

So now they are in line, trying to check out. Graham is holding on to the sour cream for dear life, as my sister tries to coax it away from him. Emmett rips the sour cream out of Graham's hand, hands it to my sister, and says "I put sour cream on Mama's boobies" loudly. Needless to say, they booked out of there with everyone in the store staring at them.

After telling that story to my wife's great aunt, she tells me a story about my father-in-law and his brother, influenced by grandpa's foul mouth. She and her mom overheard the nephews/grandsons playing cowboys and indians while they were in the kitchen, but couldn't understand what they were saying. Creeping up on the kids, they overhear them not calling them "cowboys and indians," but "damnits and ***holes." Grandpa got chewed out pretty bad on that one.

 

[DaNuke95]

I almost castrated myself with a Kershaw DWO when I was eleven years old. I was helping my dad plant trees in our yard, and I was opening bags of topsoil. My dad gave me that DWO when I was ten, I probably didn't sharpen since then, and I was cutting towards myself.

On the second or third bag, my knife slipped and I stabbed myself on the inside of my left thigh, about two inches from the family jewels. It only cost me three stitches, but it could've been much, much worse.

I still have that knife. It's the old school Japanese AUS 6A version.

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