Butt Whoopin’ Wit a Machete


Way back ’round ’bout nineteen hunderd an eighty my 7 year ol’ sista and me was visiting my grandpaw’s place up in Zwolle, LA . He lived right on the Sabine River in the Ammons Airpark.  We used to fly our little Cessna 172 into his property and hang out for the weekend or upwards of two weeks in the summer.

Anyway, my grandpa had about two acres with grapes and pigs and chickens and honey bees and plum trees and watermelons and really sharp axes and machetes.  Really sharp. Like shave a baby’s butt sharp.

When he was not using the machete he would slam it into a tree while he cleared some brush so he wouldn’t step on it or lose it or cut himself.  So one time he slammed it into a tree and told my sister and me not to touch it while he walked down the hill to put some brush in the fire pit.

Well, my little crazy sister couldn’t resist and pulled that Jedi light saber of a machete out of the tree and panicked when my grandpa came back. She couldn’t put it back in the tree and flipped his lid (The only thing worse than his temper was his snoring!).  So she dropped that machete and he picked it up and proceeded to chase her around their little one bedroom home with my sister screaming like Jason from Friday the 13th was after her (He kinda was in a way).

My sweet grandma came out just as my grandpa caught my sister, threw her over his knees and spanked her with the broad side of that machete.
29 years later we still laugh when we get together and tell that story.

That is 100% true and to this day my sister still won’t touch a machete!

Story by Wes Schaeffer

This post was submitted by Wes Schaeffer.

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