By Beau Smith

Oh, to be young and stupid. It seems like just yesterday I was doin’ all sorts of dumbass stuff all in the name of fun.

You regular readers of Busted Knuckles have read about some of my more dangerous exploits from time to time. At least the ones that wouldn’t get me tossed into jail. I had a twisted kinda “Leave It To Beaver/My Three Sons” childhood. Hell, even my high school and college years were splattered with violent humor and good times.

The other day while updatin’ photos on my website, I had a few memories come back to me from that fun summer of 1976. I was in college at Marshall University at the time. I was 21 years old and full of ragin’ testosterone.

It was summer and me and my best pal Ray “Crab” Crabtree decided to head to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina for a week’s vacation. Two of our other buddies were supposed to go, but they backed out at the last minute. That meant that Crab and I had a big, two-story, four-bedroom house on the beach all to ourselves. We loaded up my Mazda RX4 and headed south.

The house was great. Nice big place and lots of room. Only thing was the water wasn’t turned on. We made a call to the real estate folks that owned the place and they were nice enough to give us the keys to the house next door so we could use the bathroom there until ours was fixed. No big deal. That was cool with us.

I went over and took my shower and came back so Crab could have his turn at not bein’ stinky. Well, while Crab was over there takin’ his shower a brilliant idea popped into my head. I unpacked my BB rifle that I had brought on the trip. I planted myself in one of the nice rockin’ chairs on the deck of the house and waited.

Waited for Crab to come out of the house next door.

He did and I was waitin’.

“Ping!” “Ping!” Two well-placed BB shots let Crab know that he was a target.

“Smith?.knock that shit off!” Crab yelled as he dodged a couple more shots.

I just smiled and took aim again.

“ZIFFF!” “ZIFFF!” The sand kicked up at Crab’s bare feet.

Crab was carryin’ his dirty clothes, towel and various manly toiletries as he zigged and zagged tryin’ not to get hit from my swarm of copper coated metal BB’s. I was truly enjoyin’ hearin’ him cuss me as I made him dance across the sand.

Crab finally took shelter behind a metal trash dumpster. With my prey hunkered down behind the big blue metal box I then proceeded to take careful aim at certain spots where Crab would pop his head up from time to time. He continued to cuss me and tell me of the beatin’ he was gonna give me when he got back upstairs. I wasn’t too worried. I had 700 BB’s and could keep this up for a long ass time.

“Ping!” “Ping!” “Ping!” More BB’s bounced off the dumpster.

Crab yelled and complained about getting’ all sweaty and that the sand was hot on his size 12 feet. I just laughed and took a couple more shots. Damn, I was havin’ manly fun!

I had Crab pinned down behind that dumpster for a good 30 minutes. I was enjoyin’ the breeze off the ocean and the comfort of the rockin’ chair. Couldn’t say the same for poor ol’ Crab. He was hot, sweaty, and very confined behind that smelly dumpster.

In desperation Crab pulled out his ace in the hole. He said the one thing that would make me stop my relentless barrage of BB’s.

“Smith, if you don’t stop I’m not gonna cook on this trip!” Crab yelled from behind his trash-ridden fortress.

Those words sunk in on me deep and hard. For those of you that don’t know, Not only was Crab an All-State football player in high school, that got him a full scholarship to college, but like his dad, Big Ray, Crab is a great cook.

I could see lobster tails and Crab’s home made special sauce vanishing and peanut butter sandwiches takin’ it’s place.

I stopped shootin’.

I told him we had a deal and put my rifle down. Crab was a little leery, as he should’ve been, but I kept my word and didn’t fire. He came on back up. I half expected him to try and clobber me with one of his ham-sized fists, but he appreciated the whole act. He would’ve done the same to me if he had thought of it.

Needless to say Crab kept his word and we ate like kings that week. The lobster was great and the beer was cold.

We also started a manly tradition for after meals and a couple of cold beers. Let me explain.

There at the house there were these long push brooms for cleaning. Well, one night after dinner Crab was sweepin’ the sand out of the joint when he got the idea to unscrew the broom handle from the brush. It had a real right feeling in his hand. He whacked me in the back with it.

It hurt.

Crab’s maniacal laugh could be heard far and wide as he took pokes and stabs at me with the pole. He was getting’ a little payback for the BB gun episode.

I noticed that there was another push broom over there and I grabbed it. Quickly got the head off it and now I was armed and ready. We whacked at each other for a few minutes and after we knocked a lamp over we decided it was best to take this outside to the beach before we busted up the place.

It was a nice evening as we marched to the beach, poles in hand. We were about to square off when Crab had a great idea. He took his pole and drew a circle in the sand about 15 feet around. He suggested that we battle from within the circle and the first one to be driven out of the circle lost. I loved it.

The Circle Of Death was born!

It was like something outta the movie Gladiator. We circled each other and then started smackin’ each other with the poles. Some would call this a circle jerk or a couple of jerks in a circle, but to Crab and me, it was The Circle Of Death.

We weren’t givin’ any sissy swats with these sticks of sting. We were really beatin’ the shit out of each other. We were havin’ the time of our lives. I even got to use that famous ploy that every movie bad guy has used? I tossed sand in his face to blind him so I could swat him good with my staff.

Quit readin’ Queer Eye stuff into this. I hear ya makin’ the gay jokes.

Needless to say we had these battles every evening in between beers and chasin’ surfer girls. The people in the surrounding houses would also gather every evening and sit on their decks and watch as these two college boys beat each other with sticks. A grand old time was had by all.

Like I said? to be young and stupid.

The lesson to this little story is this. Have child-like fun while ya still can. You’re gonna be an adult a lot longer than you’re a kid. Take the time to do something stupid while you’re young. Father time will beat your ass soon enough. Enjoy your youth while ya can.

Read comics.
Chase Girls.
Play Video Games
Chase Girls.
Eat stuff that ain’t good for ya.
Chase girls.
Beat the shit out of your friends in a Circle Of Death!

You get my drift. Take time to enjoy bein’ young. If you’re old, then take time to be a kid again. This life is short. Use it to the best of your manly abilities.

Next time you’re at the beach and see a couple of old guys in a circle clobberin’ each other? don’t worry? it’ll be me and Crab.

I ain’t hard to find.

Beau Smith
The Flying Fist Ranch
P.O. Box 706
Ceredo, WV. 25507

Prove your manhood by visiting Beau at the Flying Fists Forum!

About The Author

Beau Smith

Beau Smith is a writer for Comics Bulletin