My dad was a welder and a torch-cutter. Years ago he was working night shift a place in the Kansas City area.
One of the pranks the guys would play on each other is to make a little bomb out of a plastic bag filled with acetylene and oxygen, put a masking tape fuse on it, set it behind someone and then light it. The guy would be working away, and then BOOM! The guy would jump, and everyone would have a good laugh at his expense.
One year he had to work New Year’s eve, and as the night wore on the guys got more and more loopy, and they started making bigger and bigger bombs. At one point, they saw one guy head off behind a large stack of girders with a bag the size of a large pillow.
A few minutes later, they were back to work welding when KABLAMMO!
The aforementioned guy with the giant bag came staggering out from behind the girders. His cap had been blown across the room, his hair was standing up, and he was holding himself where guys don’t usually hold themselves unless something uncomfortable has happened. Like, say, a pillowcase full of flammable gas exploding in close proximity.
The other guys found out quickly that he had also shattered his ear drums.
“I DIDN’T EVEN LIGHT IT,” he yelled. “I DIDN’T EVEN LIGHT IT!”
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