Bounty Hunter
Addicted to ArboristSite
Note: The following story is fictional, so if that bothers you simply click “Back” on your browser now…there is probably an interesting oil-ratio thread you can go check out…
But if you think chainsaws, with a little humor and a huge helping of ridiculous thrown in are entertaining, read on…
It was a dark, rainy night…the wind was blowing and the door rattled on the garage where a quiet group of chainsaws were sleeping…when, with a start, a 200T woke up and said “What’s that noise?”
A 260 Pro, annoyed at the intrusion in her sleep snipped “Hush up you little worrier. You climbing saws are so high-strung…it’s just the wind.”
The 200T, clearly rattled now, insisted…”There’s something down there on the floor! I heard it!”
“It’s just the Harleys…they hibernate in the winter like bears. They just snore sometimes”…The 260 Pro was wide awake now, and to her surprise, there did seem to be something different…and scary down there. “Maybe there is something…” she said more quietly now…”Wake up Grampa, he will know”
Beginning to panic, the 200T snapped “He won’t wake up…the 660’s too far down the shelf…you gotta wake up the Poulans!”
Five sleeping Poulans sat side-by-side on the shelf at the front of the garage, diagonally across from the Stihl shelf. The 200T was closest. “Wake up you Box-Store morons! Can’t you see there’s something on the floor right below you!”
As one, all five were immediately awake and clearly startled. Something was on the floor, and a low, rumbling snort and growl was coming from it.
Right about then, a car happened to drive by in the street…its headlights briefly shining through the glass panels at the top of the nine foot high garage door.
The cry from the frightened saws went up instantly…”AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”…………”MONSTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
The shadowy form on the floor took shape…it was close to eight feet long and impossibly massive. Its wicked teeth were bare, and gleamed in the moment of light.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
It was about this time I went in for the night’s final beer fridge run…and was shocked by the chaos. “QUIET!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
“You idiots are gonna wake up the Harleys, and there’s still snow on the ground!” With that statement, I turned on the big fluorescent shop lights.
“What in the world is wrong with you? Look what you gone and done…two of you Poulans have wet your beds!”
The 260 Pro, surprisingly, was the first to recover her composure…”IT’S THAT….THAT THING!!!!!!!!” …Indicating the immense form that was near my feet.
“Oh, I’m sorry guys…I didn’t have time to introduce you all, it was late when we got in…”
“Crew, meet 880 magnum, 880 Magnum, meet the crew”
The 880 grunted, clearly unwilling to be social to what appeared to be a collection of panicky misfits. There was a disturbing silence.
“Oh all right…just get to know each other. You guys are all gonna be working together”, With that, I grabbed a Beck’s and left.
Grandpa, the oldest and newly refurbished 044 was the first to break the uncomfortable silence…”Hey Sonny, that’s a mighty long bar you got there!”
The 880, sporting a massive 72 inch bar, explained…”I used to work in a paper plant. I used to cut big rolls of paper in half”
The 260 Pro was incredulous…”You haven’t cut any timber?????”
“Nope…Just paper. But believe you me, it wasn’t easy. It took all my great strength and this massive .404 carbide-tipped chain”.
The 660, plainly intimidated before, spoke up…”An 880 that’s never cut wood…Oh Brother. Look, he doesn’t even have any Dawgs”
“I didn’t need Dawgs, they didn’t want me to damage the paper rolls. My life changed last year…when the company bought new processing machinery, and didn’t need me any more. The company owner put me on CraigsList, and I sat for months.”
“And our Boss bought you?” the 200T asked, becoming a little more relaxed.
“Actually, your Mrs. Boss bought me. Your Boss emailed my former owner, and offered half the asking price…and my old owner took it”
“But your Boss didn’t have enough money. I guess he hardly ever has any money. But Mrs. Boss went to the bank and got the cash. She told Boss that they would never get another opportunity like this, to own an almost brand new 880 for a fraction of the cost of a new one.”
“Well, that sounds fair enough” Grampa 044 said, seeming to be satisfied with the turn of events. “You’re welcome here, but Boss has gotta get you a new bar…something like a 41 incher…we don’t got any trees big enough for the bar you’re wear’in!”
Here's the 880, with the 72" bar...the bar alone is 25 pounds...no way we are gonna be bucking rounds with this!
Note the saw sitting on the bar next to me, its the mighty 660 Magnum...even he looks tiny next to this monster...
I hoped you enjoyed that absurd little story, it was fun to write...
We ordered a new bar for the 880, a 8-pin sprocket and some chains...but there's still snow on the ground...with more on the way...can't go cut wood for a while longer....
But if you think chainsaws, with a little humor and a huge helping of ridiculous thrown in are entertaining, read on…
It was a dark, rainy night…the wind was blowing and the door rattled on the garage where a quiet group of chainsaws were sleeping…when, with a start, a 200T woke up and said “What’s that noise?”
A 260 Pro, annoyed at the intrusion in her sleep snipped “Hush up you little worrier. You climbing saws are so high-strung…it’s just the wind.”
The 200T, clearly rattled now, insisted…”There’s something down there on the floor! I heard it!”
“It’s just the Harleys…they hibernate in the winter like bears. They just snore sometimes”…The 260 Pro was wide awake now, and to her surprise, there did seem to be something different…and scary down there. “Maybe there is something…” she said more quietly now…”Wake up Grampa, he will know”
Beginning to panic, the 200T snapped “He won’t wake up…the 660’s too far down the shelf…you gotta wake up the Poulans!”
Five sleeping Poulans sat side-by-side on the shelf at the front of the garage, diagonally across from the Stihl shelf. The 200T was closest. “Wake up you Box-Store morons! Can’t you see there’s something on the floor right below you!”
As one, all five were immediately awake and clearly startled. Something was on the floor, and a low, rumbling snort and growl was coming from it.
Right about then, a car happened to drive by in the street…its headlights briefly shining through the glass panels at the top of the nine foot high garage door.
The cry from the frightened saws went up instantly…”AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”…………”MONSTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
The shadowy form on the floor took shape…it was close to eight feet long and impossibly massive. Its wicked teeth were bare, and gleamed in the moment of light.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
It was about this time I went in for the night’s final beer fridge run…and was shocked by the chaos. “QUIET!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
“You idiots are gonna wake up the Harleys, and there’s still snow on the ground!” With that statement, I turned on the big fluorescent shop lights.
“What in the world is wrong with you? Look what you gone and done…two of you Poulans have wet your beds!”
The 260 Pro, surprisingly, was the first to recover her composure…”IT’S THAT….THAT THING!!!!!!!!” …Indicating the immense form that was near my feet.
“Oh, I’m sorry guys…I didn’t have time to introduce you all, it was late when we got in…”
“Crew, meet 880 magnum, 880 Magnum, meet the crew”
The 880 grunted, clearly unwilling to be social to what appeared to be a collection of panicky misfits. There was a disturbing silence.
“Oh all right…just get to know each other. You guys are all gonna be working together”, With that, I grabbed a Beck’s and left.
Grandpa, the oldest and newly refurbished 044 was the first to break the uncomfortable silence…”Hey Sonny, that’s a mighty long bar you got there!”
The 880, sporting a massive 72 inch bar, explained…”I used to work in a paper plant. I used to cut big rolls of paper in half”
The 260 Pro was incredulous…”You haven’t cut any timber?????”
“Nope…Just paper. But believe you me, it wasn’t easy. It took all my great strength and this massive .404 carbide-tipped chain”.
The 660, plainly intimidated before, spoke up…”An 880 that’s never cut wood…Oh Brother. Look, he doesn’t even have any Dawgs”
“I didn’t need Dawgs, they didn’t want me to damage the paper rolls. My life changed last year…when the company bought new processing machinery, and didn’t need me any more. The company owner put me on CraigsList, and I sat for months.”
“And our Boss bought you?” the 200T asked, becoming a little more relaxed.
“Actually, your Mrs. Boss bought me. Your Boss emailed my former owner, and offered half the asking price…and my old owner took it”
“But your Boss didn’t have enough money. I guess he hardly ever has any money. But Mrs. Boss went to the bank and got the cash. She told Boss that they would never get another opportunity like this, to own an almost brand new 880 for a fraction of the cost of a new one.”
“Well, that sounds fair enough” Grampa 044 said, seeming to be satisfied with the turn of events. “You’re welcome here, but Boss has gotta get you a new bar…something like a 41 incher…we don’t got any trees big enough for the bar you’re wear’in!”
Here's the 880, with the 72" bar...the bar alone is 25 pounds...no way we are gonna be bucking rounds with this!
Note the saw sitting on the bar next to me, its the mighty 660 Magnum...even he looks tiny next to this monster...
I hoped you enjoyed that absurd little story, it was fun to write...
We ordered a new bar for the 880, a 8-pin sprocket and some chains...but there's still snow on the ground...with more on the way...can't go cut wood for a while longer....
Except get a few funny pictures.
