Living in oil field bunkhouse can provide some mighty exciting moments. For example, one night after I had gone to bed, a fellow occupant by the name of Ike who was inebriated (real drunk) returned from his carousing. He was real happy and thought it would be great fun to wake me up so I could be happy along with him. He picked up a great big easy chair that weighed at least 80 pounds and threw it across the room right straight at my bunk.
Fortunately, I had one eye open and rolled out of that bunk faster than a cat off a hot griddle. That chair landed right smack where I had been, the bed collapsed, and ole Ike thought that was the funniest thing he had ever seen. I was happy then too because I was such a fast thinker and had escaped without mortal injury.
It was only a few days later when I got some revenge. We were dining in The Good Eats Caf� about a block away from the bunkhouse when ole Ike drove up in his car. He just barely managed to stop before he drove INTO the caf�, then staggered in and joined us. We ordered a cup of coffee for Ike hoping to sober him up a bit, but it didn�t do any good. Every time he tried to drink some coffee he missed his mouth and poured it out on the table.
Well, about this time I came up with another one of my brilliant plots. I thought it would be a real good idea if we incapacitated Ike�s car until he got sober, which probably would be at least the next day. I recruited one of the fellers to aid and abet me and we jacked Ike�s car up and put a wooden Coke case under the axle. When we let the car back down one tire wasn�t quite touching the ground. This was enough to keep that car from going anywhere as long as the coke case stayed in place. Then we went back into the caf� to watch Ike while he finished spilling his coffee.
When Ike decided to leave I got into the car with him. He started the engine, put it in reverse. Our plot worked perfectly because the car wouldn�t move. But then he put it in low gear and tried going forward. Since we were only a few feet from the caf� I started praying real hard that the coke case would stay under the axle. Well, ole Ike switched back and forth between reverse and low gears several times while I sat there terrified. Finally he gave up and said, "To heck with it. I�ll try again tomorrow."
As soon as Ike was asleep we got his car keys and after removing the coke case from under the axle, drove his car back over to the bunkhouse. The next morning when Ike saw his car right there in front of the bunkhouse, he said, "Well, I�ll be a son of a gun, I reckon I just dreamed my car was broke last night."