The Land-Stealer and the Bomb Squad
Don't you think that would make a good title for a country song?
Sorry to disappoint you, but I will not be writing a song today, and
the two things are not actually related. I know, I know, you are
accustomed to disappointment here if you are a regular visitor.
Now lift up your head and stop stubbing your toe in the dirt. I
have a story to tell you.
A while back, I mentioned that our neighbor stole some land from
us. Or rather, he bought land that we had been planning to buy.
For 16 years. Hey, we were getting around to it. It's right next to
our BARn. You can't have just anybody build next to your beautifully
landscaped BARn, you know.
So Wednesday night, #1 son checks his computer, and says, "Hey,
I have three messages on this program I just set up." What? He
had hijacked the incoming messages from our answering machine
to his computer. Oh, and he doesn't check his computer every
night. Lucky for us, all three messages were from Wednesday.
It was our neighbor's wife. "Hey, ha ha, uh, it's me, Neighbor's
Wife. Uh, the contract on our house fell through, and, uh, we
wondered if you'd still be interested in that land. Give us a call."
So I called my Hillbilly Husband who was still at work waiting
for the bomb squad, and he said to call back RIGHT NOW
and tell them he'd call them tomorrow. Suddenly land is selling
like crystal meth at a Hell's Angels reunion, in HH's opinion.
We have since negotiated a deal on the land and are set to
start the paperwork on Tuesday. Of course, the Land-Stealer,
as #1 son calls him, is making a fortune off of us. I knew that's
what he was up to. His story is that he bought a semi truck to
go into the trucking business, and what with the price of gas
now, he can hardly make his payment, and they are having
trouble selling their house. As you can see, HH and the Land-
Stealer are not exactly Trumps at the negotiation table.
Now, to the bomb squad....HH called from work Wednesday
evening to say he might not be home until 11:30-midnight. Seems
they had an OHSA walk-through of the plant, and found some
crystalized picric acid.
According to HH, this is like having nitroglycerin sitting around
in your plant. It is highly explosive. They sent home all the workers,
and the boss and HH remained. The bomb disposal squad was
called in from St. Louis. When the main bomb guy (MBG) arrived,
he climbed out of the car and said, "Fellas, I was out to dinner when
I got the call. I have had a couple drinks." Which I guess was his
story and he's stickin' to it, cause HH said he reeked of alcohol.
The MBG looked at the jar of picric acid, and said, "That's not
a lot. I can pick up that jar, but I'm not going to open it, because
there might be crystals around the lid." He put on his flack jacket
and put the jar in a 5-gallon bucket. They sent in the robot bomb
handler thing to pick up the bucket and take it outside. There, they
had dug a hole to put it in. They put some dynamite on top, and
blew it up. HH said the flames shot 15 feet into the air, and there
was a big KABOOM like at a commercial fireworks show.
Supposedly, picric acid can last 30-40 years if it stays wet. They
have had it in the plant no longer than 7 years. The MBG said
they get called to schools a lot for it. He said he was glad the news
people hadn't got wind of it, because then they'd have to tell them
what they wanted to them to hear. "Never tell them the truth. They
are on the internet in minutes, looking it up. Then they sensationalize
it. You make up something not as dangerous to tell them."
Hmm...now I will wonder when I watch the news.