And my axe!

This is a post that has been posted on a different blog before. Now it has an opportunity to be read by more than just spam bots, and so I am submitting it at DudeWrite for Slasher week. Click on the link and explore the free entertainment. What? You don't like free?

My Dad has a strange and unusual hobby. While most dads in my neighbourhood went to the pub to get hammered, my dad spent his time hammering. Dad is a blacksmith, and he makes all sorts of wonderful and useful things. Not many have considered taking up such a pursuit, but most people who find out about it think that it's cool (I understand that I have no authority on what is and what is not cool, but I assure you I have it on good authority).

Such an endeavour has perks. For my 17th birthday Dad made me a rather large medieval/fantasy axe. It was huge. The plan was that if Dad made it heavy enough I couldn't use it when stuffing around with my mates. Parents, it seems, do not like to go home via the emergency ward when they pick their kids up. Spoil sports.

It was a good plan and an awesome present. Leading up to the big day it almost got him shot.

Similar to this, but the head would be bigger
and there was no spike behind it. Also not as lame
and way cooler since my dad made it

I had my provisional licence at the time, meaning I could drive a car without supervision, and I was out driving with my mates. Dad brought the nearly completed axe into the house to show my sister. All that he had left to do was to give it a bit of a clean, polish, and finish the grip on the handle.


My sister was praising my Dad’s craftsmanship, or so he tells me, when a police car pulled up at the front. Dad saw it first, recalled I was out driving and thought the worst and subsequently panicked when the cops started walking up our driveway. With axe in hand my Dad went barrelling out of the front door, and with the voice of a panicked parent yelled, “What are you doing here!?”

If you know my Dad, then you are lucky, but you also know he is a sweet, harmless and humble man. But he is short, stocky and particularly wide at the shoulders from swinging hammers and has no neck (He is bear like, but more Yogi Bear like).

The police did not know him though. They just saw a wide stocky man, holding an axe, and asking what they were doing rather forcefully. So I can understand their concern. The cop closest to the door went white and started backing up, while the cop behind him was reaching for his gun.

Luckily, my sister was not that far behind Dad and had followed him out, she saw what was happening and promptly removed the axe from his hand and took it inside.

Oh how we laughed...