UPDATE 8/9/2005: Under duress from others, Mad Mikey finally googled himself and found the article below, and wrote me.
Don't know where Mad Mikey is (well, I now do but it is a
secret since he's vamoosed to parts north), but here is his story. I dare
anyone to not cry with laughter. This was written in December of 1999 and
I've remembered it ever since. Someone recently found it and re-posted it
to me. It's as good as I remembered.
"Ya'll laughed when I started shootin' them Easton 2514 "logs" 'bout ten years ago, but I wanna tell ya, they're the greatest. Yesterday morning' I woke up and found the gas furnace had decided to take a vacation to Cancun, or Aruba. My thoughts were that the furnace folks had made enough money this year already, 'sides that I hadn't shopped for Christmas yet, so I decided to trouble-shoot the problem m'self.
Late yesterday afternoon, just before closin' time, the parts guy at the furnace supply wharehouse sold me a new part for "one-oh-five." I thought I was gettin' off cheap. Threw a fifty on the counter and was waiting fer my change, when the fella says, "That's one-hundred-five dollars, sir." Well I had t' go back t' the car and roll up all the change in my ashtry to pay for the part. Now the problem with the part he sold me is that it had three electrical prongs, where the old part only had two. Well I made a educated guess, hooked up to two of the three prongs, and made to get the house warm.
Course first I hadda replace the thermostat that I ripped off with a crowbar thinking that was the problem initially. 'Bout 1:00AM, lookin' around, I couldn't find the wire whatchamacallit that holds a piece of paper so's to light the pilot. Instead, I found one of my newly fletched 2514's sittin' atop the ductwork where I put em to dry. Well I wanna tell ya that that huge hole in the insert will take a big wad of paper with plenty of room to spare, and the 31-inch length of that arrow easily enabled me to reach all the way in to the pilot light. Course knowin' nothin about furnaces, I didn't realize that hookin' up the wrong electrical prong would result in continuous gas flow from the burner, rather than the tiny hiss of the pilot light.
Well when the flame hit the gas......well it woke up everybody
in the house. I had planned to call someone to clean out the ducts next spring,
but whatever dust bunnies weren't instantly immolulated by the blast, ended up
as fine black ash on the coffee talbes, end tables, bookshelves or attracted to
the screen of the TV. Now I don't have to take a chance on cuttin' myself on the
ductwork in the Spring. The old lady wasn't none too happy since she had already
cleaned for Christmas. I didn't mind the drive to the hospital, it was early in
the mornin' and they weren't too busy, even with a full moon, and the 15-degree
air felt pretty darned good on my face. I wasn't none to happy that I had to use
my thumb and index finger to part my eyelids because the eyelashes had melted
together, nor was I pleased about the nurse using cold water to rub off the ash
where my eyebrows used to be, and nown I'm gonna have to shave off the other
half of my moustache. What I am happy about is that the 2514 performed
admirably, it's still straight as can be. ---Does anyone out there know of a way
to remove melted plastic fletching from yer skin?
Thanks for the encouragement with regard to gettin' well. I'm doin' fine at the moment, 'cept my face is peelin' like an old barn durin' a hot Georgia summer, and I look kinda like one of them dalmations when you look at em up close,a little white, black, and pink all mixed together. They say every cloud has a silver linin', and they're right. You know all them grey hairs that grow atop yer ears after you turn forty, and poke out ever which a way so's everybody can see em, well they're gone. Some a those curly suckers musta been 'bout three t'four inches long. Dang stuff grows so fast and wild, you'd think it was related to them wild rose and raspberry thickets where the deer hide when the huntin' pressure gets too heavy.
My hairline receeded about two inches, but it's comin' back fine and looks like one of them cutover cornfields where them pheasants hide so well out in Kansas. Got five-o'clock-shadow of the eyebrows now too. Old lady got tired of me borrowin' her Maybellene to paint on eyebrows. Sure was hard gettin' em to go in a straight line. Gives me a new respect for them ladies you see in traffic each mornin' drawin' straight lines, while doin' 70 MPH on the Innerstate 'n' dodgin 18-wheelers. Hardest part of the whole ordeal was sweepin' up the paint chips from the ceiling and walls that was shook loose by the explosion. Least I won't have to wire brush it all before I paint it in the spring. Only took two minutes to find my wirin' mistake, that, and another two days to work up the courage to relight the dang thing. Now Ron I think you mentioned somethin' about the sound of the explosion, but I don't remember hearing nuthin', I was too busy tryin' t' do one of them break dancin' moves to put the flames out in my hair. Durned huntin' partner was supposed to call me the next day about goin' to a 3-D shoot, but that phone rang all day and wasn't nobody on the line. Reckon I missed his call. Have to look at that phone next, must be on the fritz. Yep Ron yer right, that arrow must be lucky.
Got it refletched soon's I got home from the hospital and
cleaned up the dust bunny carcasses and soot from the back room. While I was
sweepin' I found the other half of my moustache pokin' out from under the
freezer. Was going to save it as a momento, but while I was puttin away the
arrow fletchin' supplies, I musta still had some Fletch-tite on my fingers, and
Thanks again ya'll --- "Mad-Mikey" aka Robert Michael Stewart .
Mike is alive and well in the great white north. If you liked this story, drop him a line.