Skip to main content

Bad Stove, Bad Stove - Whatcha Gonna Do? Watcha Gonna Do When They Come For You?


Sit down, pour yourself a drink and catch THIS shit.

A woman in Washington State was cooking dinner when she was suddenly shot in the leg. When I read this I was immediately reminded of the 80's show, Dallas. Who the hell would shoot a cooking woman??!

Was it...
An ungrateful but hungry child?
A pissed off husband, determined to never eat that goddamned meatloaf again?
The envious neighbor who is jealous of her award winning road kill pie?

It sure as hell wasn't JR. No, it turns out that the stove itself shot her. Yes, I know this doesn't sound possible. If a stove could have feelings of murderous rage, my GE would have doubtlessly busted a cap in my ass years ago. But I think we can safely say that stoves don't have feelings. Plus? They don't have opposable thumbs, making pulling the trigger extremely difficult (so they say).

There are, apparently, three quick steps to getting a cap busted in your leg by your stove:

1. Purchase a case of bullets.
2. Spill said bullets in the kitchen, letting at least one fall into newspaper you use to ignite your wood burning stove.
3. Light your stove.

Once your stove is packing heat there is something that you need to know. You must be able to perform your own surgery and remove the bullet that has pierced your skin. That's what our heroine, Cory Davis, did. She removed the fragment and then drove herself to some sort of medical facility. This may not be fair but I'm imagining live stock wandering around a small community hospital. The doctor has chicken feathers stuck to his pants. The nurses wear lots of lipstick but don't have all of their teeth. You know what I'm talking about....

At any rate, here is the morale of the story:

Guns don't kill people. Bullets errantly dropped into your stove and left to simmer kill people. Let's all try to remember that, please.

Comments

Jormengrund said…
ROFL

I actually only live a couple of miles from where this happened.

You're not too far off with the hick-like atmostphere, but I have to admit that her ability to do self-surgery left me a bit speechless!

Now, if I could only figure out some way to rig the stove to shoot my in-laws when they decide to come over and visit......
Anonymous said…
All you have to do is rent "No Country for Old Men". It pretty much goes over the step by step process of removing a bullet fragments from your own body in the comfort of your hotel room (or own home, whatever the case may be).
Anonymous said…
And I'm sure this woman had a McCain/Palin sign in her front yard.
Bex said…
Jormengrund - really???

Doug - Good tip. Thanks....

Skip - Or at least an NRA endorsement sign.
Paige said…
And that is precisely WHY I do not and will not cook.

And won't sit with my back to the stove when I watch TV

Popular posts from this blog

And The Winner Is...

I have some very exciting news. For the first time ever the Blog of Bex is giving out an award . Yes, I know. I can feel my heart pounding, too. I will call it the Bite My Ass Award (BMAA) and I'm sure it will be coveted. Now you might be wondering just who will be the lucky recipient. Could it be Diesel, the mastermind of Humor-Blogs and Mattress Police , who - for reasons unknown to me - revamped the scoring system and and reset my score to zero? Nope. This action has actually mysteriously seemed to work in my favor. I'm sure it's temporary. ANYWAY, on to the big news. I hereby give my BMAA to this guy: Handsome little fucker, isn't he? His name is James Jackson, IV and his friends call him Jay. I like to call him Fucktard because I believe that your name should say something about the kind of guy you are. And he's a total fucktard. What, you may wonder, did he do to generate such ire from me? Well I'm so glad you asked. He owns two boutiques in suburban At...

Pervy McPervert strikes again!

When I was a kid I used to make the occasional prank call. But then I turned 13 and decided that it was a fairly retarded way to spend ones time. I've also received a few "heavy breathing" calls in my day. My mom finally bought us a whistle and said that whenever "he" called that we were to blow the whistle as loud as we could into the phone. That worked although I do wish she had specified that before blowing the whistle I should take the receiver away from my head as my ear made this weird ringing noise for days afterward. But it got rid of the pervert. It's a new day, however, and perverts must be looking for new ways to annoy us. Twice today someone has texted a picture to me. I have no idea who he is or what the hell he wants. But he must think that I don't know that sometimes shirtless men squeeze their arms against their chest to give the appearance that they actually have biceps when, in fact, their arms really look like toothpicks that are broke...

Protesting at Funerals: A Look at the Deranged and Demented

I normally like to write about funny things. (At least they are things that I find funny.) They are usually attempts to be funny in a ha-ha kind of way, although sometimes I will throw in something that's funny in a weird way, just to shake things up. But what I want to write about now isn't funny at all. It is shocking and horrific. There was a girl from my home town who was murdered at Auburn University last week. Her name was Lauren Burk and she was 18. She went to our local high school and although I didn't know her many of my friends children did. She's being buried today. Her family is, naturally, heartbroken. It was a random, tragic and violent attack. That's really bad enough. My husband drove by the funeral home yesterday and noticed that there was a small army of Harley Davidson riders holding American flags. They appeared to be guarding the memorial service. It turns out that they were asked to be there to protect the family because a group called the We...