Redneck Review

Saturday, October 08, 2005

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.

4 Comments:

  • At 7:43 PM, Blogger Rebecca said…

    Hi Hillbilly Mom,
    I agree, it would make a good Country music song, so I wrote down a couple of words, I hope you like them.
    HooRoo
    Bec

    The Land Stealer and The Bomb Squad
    (Key of A)

    It's a story of love,
    A story of lust,
    When your neighbours business
    Hits the dust.
    Your Picric Acid
    No longer has the runs,
    You could be done.

    But then out of the blue
    The phone does ring
    Your sons computer
    Goes into a Zing
    "Land for sale" the time right
    But your husband's busy with dynamite
    A true story that will turn a sod.

    Land Stealer and the Bomb Squad

    For 16 years the land was mine
    I just hadn't signed on the bottom line
    Hubby wanted to extend the barn
    But he was at work spinning a yarn
    The bomb guy had say
    "You know guys, I'm a little bit drunk,
    But that don't matter, let's blow up this skunk."

    It's the story of Land Stealer and the Bomb Squad

    As I sat down with my Sonic Cherry Diet Cola,
    I gave my neighbour a telephone holler
    We drew up the papers,
    We'll sign them on Tuesday
    [Spoken] "Just then Hubby came home,
    He was quite a sight.
    He told me they had lit up the night.
    He held me close, he squeezed me tight.
    The land was our, the bomb was gone.
    This became, our swan song."

    That's the story, of the Land Stealer and the Bomb Squad.

     
  • At 8:12 PM, Blogger deadpanann said…

    Hmm. Touching. :)

    Let's see...what was I gonna say...

    I was at dinner when I got onto this blog, and I have had a couple drinks.

    sweet on the land buy--they ain't makin' any more of it, as my redneck boyfriend would say.

     
  • At 8:33 PM, Blogger Hillbilly Mom said…

    Bec,
    I see a new career for you. That's quite a tune you've penned. I can ALMOST forget your rendition of It Goes Like It Goes, the theme song for Norma Rae. Almost. I won't go looking for you on CMT (Country Music Television) just yet.

    Miss Ann,
    Oh, dear. Is it hot dogs and wine again? You're a regular Redneck Gourmet. You're right about the land thingy. HH says it all the time. I would think maybe he was two-timin' me, but he sounds a lot like Redneck Diva's husband, so it would be three-timin' for him.

     
  • At 9:32 PM, Blogger Rebecca said…

    Hi Hillbilly Mom,
    Thanks, but I think I will stick to my day job.
    HooRoo
    Bec

     

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