Never Fight Dinosaurs Or This Will Happen

by Kevin on September 13, 2012

Cleaning out horse pens is not my favorite summertime activity. Especially when it’s August in West Texas. This is a time when thermometers sweat and cactus’ crawl under mesquite to get out of the sun. And then there’s me…waiting until 1:00 in the afternoon to start this nasty chore.

But, being skinny does have some advantages. The twelve hairs I have on my chest act like the cooling fins on a radiator and skinny folks just don’t catch as much sun as our broader cowboy friends. Most things try to stay out of this type of environment when it is this hot, but that day there was another living thing with me in the pen…and we had a death match.

Most people don’t realize this about me, but I sweat nectar. That is the only explanation as to why this honey-pterodactyl kept jacking with me. This rare form of dinosaur is often mistaken for a bee by most un-enlightened individuals.

Usually I try to leave endangered species alone, but this guy was ruthless. I let him crawl on my shirt without going into a fit of heebie-jeebies and just kept on working. Maybe he was just tired and hot. I know I was.

Things started falling apart when he tried to fly inside my ear. I can take a lot of things: an occasional tomato, Olive Garden once a year, I even folded socks one time without being asked, but a honey-pterodactyl in your ear canal is just too much.

I swatted him away with cowboy ninja-like precision and at once, his instinct for survival kicked in.

There are your average bees. I like to think of them as your next door neighbor who flies a little airplane. They can take off and land and get where they’re going. Then you have freakin’ Maverick from Top Gun. This bee-one-bomber pilot must have had flying lessons from Yoda because he had to be using the force.

Remember when Luke Skywalker flies into the death star and blows it up? That’s what my nemesis accomplished that day. I was Kung-Fuing like a Matrix movie star with a shovel in one hand and fly spray in the other and back pedaling through dookie deep enough to hobble a giraffe while fighting a dinosaur. Most people you meet have never done that.

My little force-wielding Top Gun pilot managed to fly right behind the right lens of my sunglasses. I swear I could hear R2D2 squallin’ in terror as they made their death defying approach. It was at this moment that Maverick Skywalker stung me on the side of my nose.

It is a guttural sound that issues forth when you have a honey-pterodactyl with a bowie knife for a stinger, behind the lens of your glasses, stinging your nose while flapping wings at Mach-Hell-No.

It goes against natural instincts…most people don’t have the cajones nor the guts to do it…but drastic times call for drastically-stupid measures. Without thinking about consequences, I dropped the fly spray, and double grabbed the shovel…and hit myself in the face with it. Hard.

I justify this next part as pure genius.

Most people would have would have rid the shovel of poop before hitting themselves in the face with it, but not me. I used the defecatory properties of the manure to seal off any escape routes off of my face. A shovel alone would have afforded many avenues of departure.

I have to admit though, I swing a mighty stout shovel and I might have put a little more into it than absolutely necessary. But my demise didn’t come from the shovel, it came from that dropped fly spray bottle. In my fight to the finish, and due to the fact that I have no use of vision whatsoever, I forgot where I dropped the spray and stepped right on it.

To get a good picture of what happened next, you have to do an experiment.

Go outside and find a basketball. Place the ball on the ground right in front of you and then punch yourself in the face while instantly shoving a horse apple in your mouth. When these are completed, lift one foot and hold it by the ankle behind you and jump one legged on to the ball.

My kids heard the commotion and ran over to check on me. They arrived on the scene with wide eyes. I thought their concern was genuine until they knew that I was still alive.

They didn’t want to laugh if I had died. They laughed a long, long time.

Better a patient man than a warrior,
    a man who controls his temper than one who takes a city. Proverbs 16:32

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  • ahahahahahahahahha! another cowboy trait…what other career celebrates our wrecks! FYI….spider webs will turn you into a ninja, specifically if the spider is still in the web!

  • Hilarious….awesome.

  • Greg Box

    You just ain’t right Brother!! Too funny man o mam!

    Great stuff – Thank you!

    Greg Box

  • Rick Hutchison

    Thank you for a great belly laugh in the morning”

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