"Herman was sitting on a piece of tin over a hole, and when they lit the gasoline under him, he went about four feet in the air, a-flappin' his arms and legs all over the place!" Grandad
"You know, if he'd been killed, this wouldn't be a funny story any more." Mom
"I bet that tin got pretty hot." Grandma
"Nope, it didn't stay put long enough to get hot. See, they had this old leftover gasoline, and he said to get rid of it. So they put it in an ol' post-hole, about yay deep, and tossed a match in, and it went whoosh. So they put a metal bucket over the hole, let the fumes build up a minute, and then tossed a match in at the side, and it popped the bucket up." Grandad
"I can see the progression. From a hole, to a bucket on the hole, to a piece of tin--" Dad
"Yeah, from there it was just a step to putting Herman on the tin!" Mom
"Well, he didn't mind." Grandad
"You mean you were there?" Dad
"Oh yeah." Grandad
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