Picture this: a clear sunny 60 degree day, not a breath of wind. I knocked the arrow, clipped my release onto the string and took aim. When I thought I had calculated (and by that I mean guessed) the angle perfectly I let it fly.
Have you ever watched a car go into the distance? You know how you watch it slowly get smaller and smaller until it is so tiny you can barely see it, then it’s gone? This arrow was traveling at 180 miles per hour. It was nothing like that car, it was more like a hummingbird with a jet pack. Only a few of us saw the arrow at all and it was still going when I last saw it.
Me: “See? I said it would go over the hill.”
Them: “No it did NOT. You just couldn’t see it because of the blue sky.”
Me: “I want my money.”
Them: “We never made the bet.”
Me: “I shot the arrow, didn’t I?”
Them: “There’s no proof that it even went over the hill.”
Me: “So I guess I’m going to have to go find the arrow to prove it to you, huh?”
So there I am tromping around in waist high grass looking for my arrow, and only one of the bystanders came to help. (Thanks, by the way, Mr. G.) Well, at first, that is.
My cell phone rang and it was the father-in-law and uncle-in-law, of course: telling me I’m way too far and I need to be looking closer. And so they roped me into the world’s most exhausting game of hot/cold. Go to the west about 20 yards. Now down the hill 10 yards. Now to the east another 20 yards. Almost there…
Me (finally): “That’s it. Come and help already.” *click*
We looked for about ten more minutes and here they came, moseying down the hill.
Them: “I think it’s over here, no no, it’s over there.” NOT much help.
So one of them took me up the hill, because he was sure he knew the exact spot to find it. While my back was turned, an arrow mysteriously appeared in the spot I JUST LEFT. Perfectly placed for them to lead me back to, of course. Anybody buying this?
Oh sure, I had missed it, they said. And here they were all helpful and had found my arrow for me. Wasn’t that nice?
Them: “Don’t feel too bad, not everyone can be as useful as we are. We have lots of experience finding lost arrows. You can make the check out to both of us.”
Me: “I’m counting my arrows as soon as we get back.”
Them: “Now, now, there's no need for that. We found your arrow. Why, we’ll be insulted if you count your arrows! This is the problem with young people today. No respect for elders.”
Can you believe I was still one arrow short?
Me: “Pay up, losers.”
Them: “You didn’t win - we FOUND your arrow. You must have miscounted.” All they did was make me walk back up the hill for nothing.
Then I had a brilliant idea. I was going to use the 4-wheeler and line myself up from where I took the shot, and drive until I find it. About 80 yards OVER the hill I heard a *POP*. Uh-oh. I looked behind me and there was my arrow - snapped in two. Ok, so maybe the 4 wheeler wasn’t such a good idea.
I’ll show them now, I thought, but I had no witnesses - my word against theirs. So I was minus an arrow and it was too late to go hunting. After all that, the closest I got to a concession was this:
Them: “You owe him the money, I knew the arrow would go over the ridgeline.” “No, you owe him, it was your idea to hide the arrow in your pants and plant it in the field.”
I never did get any money or arrows out of anybody. Maybe I at least walked off my turkey dinner?….nah. Oooh, turkey. Anybody else hungry?