The Killer Tree-stump

Hi everyone

Kick back & relax with another chapter from the "Furry Chronicles" as Uncle Furry tries to impart some well learned parenting pit falls.

As you know, Uncle furry is the eldest of 4 Furrys. Was automatically designated as the "leading" role model in the development of the younger 3 furry's. My parents had a slightly "alternative" style of parenting, as well as, what could only be called, a slightly unorthodox view on what was "normal & acceptable".

A classic example was, while it was acceptable for the older 3 furry's (15,11,9) to walk around the farm with rifles, it was not acceptable for the youngest, but, Father furry was willing to allow the 7 yo Furry to have a cross bow, which performed far better than our .22 cal rifles!

Slug guns (air rifles) were fine though. To the point where all of us had them at our suburban home. We would "skeet shoot" for example.

How it was done was to run as fast as possible past the bedroom door, and the one inside the bedroom would try & "nail" the fast paced furry running past the door way.

The record was 8 passes untouched, set by the youngest furry, he was bloody fast! Must have been his training in out running the zombie chicken. He was also the best shot! Second place record was 4 passes untouched!

Furrys being Furrys, we often played war, but really got over the youngest furry arguing about when he was actually "shot". So, being the resourceful Furrys we were, we decided that we'd use the slug guns (firing chicken feed pallets), (because air rifle slugs got really expensive with the amount we'd go through), and the problem was solved. When he, or you got shot, you knew it & couldn't really "hide" the fact.

We were slightly "different" from the average family. For Example all the family was involved in motorcycle racing, even mum. In the early 70's she would "woman handle" a 750cc Kawasaki H2 Mach 3 around a race track in A grade races.

If this doesn’t seem too impressive, the old Mach 3 was an animal in its day, and was only ridden at full bore by the most fearless pilots.

The family property was in Dargo, (for those not familiar with Aust., its up near the area they filmed "The man from Snowy River") and was 400 acres of pure bliss.

Rolling hills, beautiful ranges, and tree covered hilltops, and was the most peaceful place on earth. The Furrys did their best to destroy this peace. It was also the first place where PG & Furry’s crossed paths. She would come up with friends to go horse riding next door with girl friends from school.

"WE" were the "noisy boys next door, who rode loud motorbikes & scared the horses". And when I was 16, the 3 younger furries were racing bikes nationally & I'd just finished my first season on the 750cc Grand Prix & Super bike circuit in Europe & the States. So I suppose, sometimes we might have been perceived as going a little quick.

I'll not bore you with how many visits the parent Furrys undertook (it was 4 hour return trip) to the nearest hospital to repair a crumpled furry, but there was a few.

The bush would also occasionally "reclaim" a vehicle. And the number of times father furry would yell, (once it was decided we weren't "too" crumpled) "I fucken know you can jump the creek (or fence, or road, or embankment) on ya bike, but what made you think you could do it in the ute (car)!"

Given half a chance, we’d have done a reverse Evil Knievel, in as much as we’d try & jump 17 motorbikes in a double decker bus.

Tonight’s funny story was the removal of "The Killer Stump". What happened, the previous owners removed all the trees in this particular area by the old "terfor method".

Imagine a huge manual winch, you hook up both ends to separate stumps & crank away, eventually the stump is pulled up. You repeat this as many times as required & eventually you're left with one stump only. Which is removed manually, which is a bitch because it's normally the biggest one in the area.

Well this stump was a "Killer Stump". It was right in the way when you drove the Ute down to the creek to fill the water tank. No matter what angle you took, you hit the bloody thing. Well, father furry got sick of the panel damage to the Ute & decided the stump "had to go". Well I'm big on energy conservation, so I thought, "fuck that" when he suggested we dig it out.

Being a highly mentally evolved furry that I am, suggested that we wait 'til winter. Every weekend we'd pour flammable liquid over it & light it up. After all, it's dead & full of large borer holes (termite like insect) & should be gone in no time!

Well picture painting time, its winter in the high plains, it's cold, nearly snowing. We prepare some coffee (father furry & your's truly). Start the Ute & off we go. As sure as a politician is crooked, we bounced off the killer stump. Pulled the Ute to a halt down near the creek & I lugged 2 x 20ltr Jerry cans back to the stump.

After emptying the contents all over the stump, I lit it up. Burning furiously in front of me the killer stump was consumed by fire. It was beautiful; the warmth of the fire warmed me.

I decided, "A smoke & a coffee would be nice" and wander back to the Ute with the two empty cans. Tossing then into the back of the ute, father furry muttered, "what, not done enough fucken damage to me Ute today, gotta do some more do ya?""

He was precious about his fifth Ute he'd bought for the farm (fifth in the last 2 1/2 years, others still on the property but "planted" in various areas & at differing angles).

The normal greeting was returned, "Get stuffed & pour me a coffee".

As I walked around to the driver’s side to get my smokes off the dashboard it was as if I was scooped up by a giant hand and thrown through the air. A massive boom followed.

As I sailed through the air I thought, "WHAT THE! " Landing flat on my face, I rolled over to see the Ute had also moves 90 degrees to the way it was originally parked.

There was all sorts of crap falling from the sky & smoke everywhere, I looked over to the front of the ute to see father furry furiously fanning his crouch, (later turned out he slipped my coffee in his lap) and thought "That's a little strange, even for us". Finally I got up and wandered groggily over to the car, as the smoke cleared the "Killer Stump" was no more.

In its place was a crater, about 10 feet deep & 20 feet wide. It turns out that the pervious occupants of the land had drilled holes into the stump, placed dynamite into the holes & forgot about it for the next 3 years or so.

The Ute was also a little worse for wear; the complete left hand side was punctured with bits of the deceased "Killer Stump". The Ute was then known as #6, and still is probably down by the creek.

So, how does a furry get to my age? Beats me.

Next weeks episode will be titled, "How to confuse father furry, and why is the creek dam getting so large? Eldest Furry, detention cord from the Army & a fishing we will go!"