My older brother Wallace and his wife Tori got married in summer of 1985, and set up housekeeping first in Pendleton, SC then on Saluda Dam Road in Easley, SC. Mama and Daddy went up for a visit in 1986 when they lived in Pendleton and left Matt and I behind, as we were both working. Working. If you knew Matt you know how long ago that was! He was working at Oak River on the same shift I was and we used the old "Night Shift" excuse as we both got off for three days on Saturday morning. We took the opportunity to invite a few guests over for dinner and a good time, and when 8 am arrived on the appointed day we celebrated with a cold one on the ride home!
The folks were long gone by the time we got home, and we wasted no time in the revelry of freedom from the constraints of parental sobriety by hastily repurposing a funnel and a length of vinyl tubing into a "Guzzler", the college-era device that allows you to down a 12 ounce can of beer in a matter of seconds. Matt and I performed a factory acceptance test on it upon completion by each downing 24 ounces of malted ale and hops through the device, and comparing notes on the smoothness of the draft and the ratio of foam to belch volume after the first test round. Matt, forever skeptical in his outlook, decided that another test should be performed to satisfy the growing curiosity that started spreading out from deep in his chest to the tips of his fingers and the top of his head.
As the day progressed and got saturated with alcohol the retention of events became tougher to process until after the chicken had been removed from the grill and devoured. The party had moved indoors by this point and after the feast the attention turned to NW Johnsons arsenal of rifles, shotguns, pistols and even a Sten Mk II 9mm submachine gun that had been confiscated in the Greensboro Riots of 1968. That was always a conversation piece. Jackie Johnson was a firm believer in the second amendment, and raised us to respect firearms...and that alcohol and firearms do not mix! With his words echoing in our brains, we nevertheless proceeded in our iniquity of unfaithfulness.
JB had just bought a Ruger Super Blackhawk .44 Magnum, and Matt fished out that seven-pound hand cannon much to the glee of the crowd, and passed it around for all to admire. It was long, sleek and just felt sinister in your hand! It made it's way into Stephen Wallace's hand and he drawled out in a very-inebriated slur "Matt, you don't have a hair on your ass if you don't shoot that gun at the wall!"
Matt was not losing a dare. He walked over to the wall, took a Ducks Unlimited print off the wall beside the TV, turned and walked back two steps. Matt wheeled around, threw the Super Blackhawk up, aimed at the vacant spot and Ka-Blam! He pulled the trigger and cleared out the house. Every single guest decided that was enough, and it was time to leave. Funny how a .44 Magnum can do that!
We later checked the path of the bullet. It penetrated the inner wall, passed through a jacket in my closet, exited the door of the closet, went through the window frame in my bedroom, exited the house and while we never got a positive ID we think the bullet came to rest in the wooden fence that separated 105 S Cook Street from the Daniels family at 107 S Cook Street. We went back in to a vacant house and hung the picture back up.
Mama and Daddy sold the house in 1993 and while helping them move, Matt and I showed Daddy the hole, and told him the tale. He backed up with a very puzzled expression of disgust and said something I'll never forget..."Boys, I could have gone a lifetime without hearing that!" Y'all have a Rice day!