(Originally posted in my Web
log on February 24, 2005.)
For the enjoyment and horror of the audience, I present a one-act play
entitled "This Should Have Been a Sign to my Parents."
The scene: 1979, inside a parked Lincoln Continental.
The players:
The Frantic Parent - A woman in her early twenties sitting in the
driver's seat who shows maternal instincts toward the protagonist. Played by my
mother.
The Startled Teenager - A girl in her mid-teens sitting in the passenger
seat. Played by my aunt Sherry.
The Terrified Two-year-old - An inquisitive child exploring his
environment in the back seat. Played by me.
The opening: The intrepid and ever-so-curious two-year-old
finds a box of .223 caliber rifle
shells left in the backseat by previous occupants (for those unaccustomed to explosive
projectiles, this is the cartridge used by the Army's M-16 rifle, as well as various deer
and target rifles). Perhaps noting the intriguing sound the brass cartridges made upon
impact, or perhaps simply being curious about their interesting shape, and unaccustomed to
the concept of "chemical detonation," our dashing hero begins to bang two of
them together whilst the other two characters continue to talk in the front seat.
The action: The two-year-old
succeeds in striking the tip of one of the cartridges into the primer
(the small explosive point on the bottom of a cartridge normally struck by the firing pin
of a firearm) of the other hard enough to set it off, causing the shell to detonate
in his hand. In a fraction of a second the brass casing fragments (embedding pieces of
shrapnel into the ceiling) and the powder inside that normally continues to burn as the
bullet is propelled down the barrel is ejected into the air, where it settles, still
burning, over the immediate area.
The bullet itself (the projectile that normally "fires" out of the end of the
gun), without a barrel to accelerate or direct it, is simply pushed out of the way like a
beach ball on top of a fire hose and pops out onto the floor. |
|
The aftermath: The unfortunate Frantic Parent and Startled
Teenager are frightened out of their wits by the sudden (and very loud) sound of a gunshot
directly behind them. The now starkly terrified two-year-old is in a deafened shock until
he begins to scream, not only from the incredible noise and the fact that a small
explosion occurred in his hand, but also from the burning powder on his arms and face.
(Later on, his father has a talk with the person who left the box of shells within a
two-year-old's grasp . . .)
(Click for the Flickr page.)
That's more or less the way it's been related to me, anyway. I was two; I
don't remember it. I still have two scars on my face from the burning powder (one on my
cheek and another on my eyebrow), though, and my mother kept the
fragmented cartridge in her jewelry box for 25 years before coming across it and
giving it to me in 2004 (as a "good luck charm"). I came away from it relatively
unscathed (I could easily have been blinded if I'd had the cartridge pointed at my face);
I think there's a good chance my aversion to loud noises originates at that point.
The first time I heard this story related (when I was 12 or so), I didn't know it was
about me until my dad looked at me and said "I've only known one person who managed
to set off a bullet without a gun, and you did it when you were two."
That probably should have been a sign to my parents to supervise me constantly . . . |
|
The Flickr
Gallery of the Infamous Bullet
Gun
Safety for Kids |
