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Before guns, way back in Fred Flinstone's time, my friends and I would ride wagons or carts made out of wagon parts down the sidewalk hill. Long story very short, Jack took off on the cart when it was my turn to ride so I picked up a rock and hucked it. He was most of the way down the hill by the time I found the rock and it was quite the distance, so I threw in a nice arc, like throwing in from the outfield. Wouldn't ya know it? That rock landed squarely on the top of his head. (Futher Mucker took my cart!) Man, I'll bet that still hurts.